#hehe Anthony I love you

[blubary]

I decided to redraw one of my lhtober drawings from, of course, October. It was for the prompt, “Coffee.” I really liked my idea for it, just not how it turned out. To be fair, I only don't like it because it's old now and I don't draw like that anymore lol. Anywho, I do however love how the new one turned out an dim really happy about my improvement.

[lewkwoodnco]

I love you, I'm sorry x locklyle (Part 1 | Part 2) LOCKWOOD & CO. (2023) @thosesillylittlegayghosts

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

Join my taglist HERE

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[iwritefandomimagines]

NO LONGER IN DENIAL

masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader, bestfriend!benedict bridgerton x reader

description: anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

warnings: angst, jealous!anthony cos i’m a sucker for him hehe, benedict being a shit stirrer who i adore, fluffiness at the end <3

“Lady Y/N is joining us for dinner this evening, I believe,” Benedict hummed, a small smirk gracing his face as the eldest Bridgerton’s head snapped up, “Mother told me she hopes to, anyway.”

Anthony watched as his sisters fussed excitedly over seeing you, for it had been at least a week since you had graced Aubrey Hall with your presence and they missed you dearly.

Anthony had too, of course, though he’d never admit it was for any reason beyond how highly regarded you were in his family and how much he enjoyed your friendship.

“I very much look forward to seeing her,” Benedict continued, still smirking devilishly, “Though I did have the pleasure of bumping into her as she left Modiste yesterday.”

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, “You didn’t tell me that, brother.”

“Must I share every occasion I see Lady Y/N with you, Anthony?” he quipped in reply, crossing his arms over his chest as Colin stifled a laugh, well aware of what was going on, “One might think you jealous.”

“Jealous? You jest, brother. She is my closest friend, I am simply surprised you would not mention even in passing that you saw her,” Anthony spoke through gritted teeth, “Regardless, I look forward to seeing her.”

“Ah, perfect timing!” Francesca grinned as Lady Y/N’s arrival was announced moments later, and in you walked with a gloriously bright smile on your face, though this faltered as you saw the bitter look on Anthony’s face.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” you asked shyly, taking a few steps towards Anthony, whose expression softened at this, “Have we chosen a bad day to visit? If so I apologise—,”

Suddenly Benedict was at your side now, “It’s quite alright, my dear Lady Y/N. We are all pleased to see you. Might we take a turn about the room? We have some things to discuss!”

“No fair! You saw her yesterday, I want to show her my embroidery,” Hyacinth pouted, though Benedict raised his brow at her and flickered his eyes in Anthony’s direction as if to explain his actions.

Everyone in the family was well aware of the affection shared between you and Anthony, even if he dared not admit how he felt because of his apparent desire not to marry.

Benedict believed he just needed a push to see that you had myriad other options, and that he could only push away his feelings for so long.

“I’m sure Benedict has something important to share, my dear Hyacinth, but I would love to see your embroidery promptly after,” your voice was like honey to the eldest Bridgerton, who fought off the desire to make his own request for a moment of your time, “There is enough of me to go around! My brother will be arriving shortly, also.”

Benedict began whispering almost as soon as you had crossed the room, endeavouring to make you well aware of his plan so as not to cause any discomfort to you.

He didn’t wish for you to be confused by his sudden flirtation, so immediately indulged you with the details of his concocted plan to induce jealousy in his older brother that might finally allow him to be honest about his feelings.

With some hesitation, you accepted his plan.

Benedict was well aware of your feelings for his brother, and you knew this — after all, you had confessed it to him yourself because you trusted him dearly. Much to Anthony’s dismay, nowadays Benedict was your closest friend of all.

Anthony had once filled that role, but as each year passed and your youth slipped away, you had fallen far too in love with him to be so satisfied with a friendship as you were with Benedict.

Benedict was your best friend — Anthony was the love of your life.

Though he did not admit it, you were the love of his too. This is why Benedict’s interference was so necessary as far as the second Bridgerton son was concerned.

It was unfair for you to believe your love unrequited when it was merely his stubborn refusal to see beyond his ‘duty’ as Viscount and head of the household that prevented him from giving in to his feelings.

The plan seemed already to be working by the time you were seated for dinner, far closer to Benedict than to Anthony who sat at the other side of the table.

He scowled as he watched his brother gossiping with you, still irritated by both his earlier remark about seeing you yesterday and his persistence with being the only person in the room to maintain your attention.

“It is working, my dear friend,” Benedict beamed across at you, leaning forward to both better execute his plan and so that you could hear him better, “If looks could kill, my brother would have seen me long since dead and buried.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, hiding the giggle that escaped as you waited to calm before looking across at Anthony, “Benedict!”

You drew in a deep breath, composing yourself before glancing across at the Viscount and catching his eye immediately. His glare was suddenly no more, his lips curling up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You mouthed a small “Hello,” to him, blushing crimson at the intensity of his stare. Despite the conversation going on around him, all he could do was look at you.

The staring contest you seemed to find yourself in was swiftly broken by Benedict’s voice calling your name again, returning you to conversation with him.

The rest of dinner passed much the same — small conversations here and there with the other Bridgertons, longing stares from an increasingly restless Anthony, and teasing comments from Benedict, who was certain that Anthony would be confronting you tonight.

“We should probably call for our carriage, I suppose,” you smiled sadly, disappointed with both how quickly the night had passed by and the fact you’d hardly spoken to Anthony throughout, “I’ve had such a lovely evening. I only wish I could stay longer!”

“You could!” Anthony exclaimed, an unusual outburst for the eldest sibling but one that made all at the table laugh as he rose to his feet, “We could have a room put up for you. It is late, and Wellsbury Hall is quite the distance.”

You bit your lip, smiling at him as he sat back down again, “Oh we couldn’t trouble you with that, my lord.”

“Perhaps my dear friend is right,” your brother disagreed, “It is getting late, and if it is no trouble we would be incredibly grateful. And I hope we might repay you with an invitation to Wellsbury in the near future? I hope to host a ball before the season ends so that my darling sister might finally find a husband.”

His eyes flickered between Benedict and Anthony for a moment and you realised that he must have been in on Benedict’s little plan.

You looked around the room cautiously at every smiling face, before settling your gaze on Anthony with a nod, “Very well then. I’d be delighted. The many childhoods spent staying here overnight are often much missed.”

Lady Bridgerton grinned, “Fantastic. Then it is settled,” she turned to the maids stood by the door, “Please prepare two rooms for our guests as quickly as possible. It is, after all, late, and I’m sure they will soon wish to rest.”

The way Anthony watched you for the rest of dinner made you impossibly nervous.

When the maids told you which rooms were readied, you stood to retire to bed, but not before Benedict offered to show you to the room as it was in his opinion the best decorated.

“Brother, I don’t believe it’s appropriate for you to show Lady Y/N to her room,” Anthony huffed, having had enough now of him being stuck to you like heavy-duty glue, “Perhaps you should allow one of our maids to kindly do so.”

“It is quite alright, Anthony. We are in the comfort of our own home, and I know Y/N quite well enough,” Benedict sing-songed, “Unless you would prefer to show her? The maids are quite busy clearing up.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched at his brother’s comment about knowing you ‘quite well enough’ and so he found himself at your side quickly.

“In fact yes, perhaps I should,” he agreed, a sternness in his tone you’d become used to again today. He was so much gentler with you, but today with you so seemingly far from him he has grown stoic again, “After all, I am the head of this household and you have not let me spend a minute with my closest friend, hm?”

Colin interjected now, aware of all eyes on the conversation, “Perhaps Lady Y/N can make the decision herself?”

“I—,”

“Fine, I concede,” Benedict raised his hands in surrender, “I suppose I’ve not let her leave my side this evening, though you cannot fault me for that. I will bid you goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight brothers.”

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for just the gentlest of kisses to the back of it, before he bowed and quickly left the room.

With Anthony facing the other way, towards you, Benedict turned to shoot you a wink before leaving, and nerves bubbled in your gut at the unknown of what was to come.

The kiss to your hand was the final straw for Anthony, who linked his arm with yours and lead you out of the room without another word to anyone else.

You were silent for the walk, but once you stopped still outside of the room you were to sleep in Anthony turned to stand in front of you, his breathing jagged as his eyes searched your face for clues to why he was feeling so furious at your friendship with Benedict.

“Is my brother courting you?” he came right out and asked it, his chest heaving and yours doing so now too as you shook your head.

“Not at all, my lord,” you bit your lip again, before looking down at the ground to avoid his gaze.

He brought his index finger to your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look at him again, “And do you wish him to be?”

Again you shook your head, but his finger never left your skin for a moment.

“I was so sure—,”

“Forgive me, my lord, I have just been finding comfort in his friendship of late as I see him regularly about town,” you frowned, suddenly even more conscious of how little time you spent with Anthony in recent weeks.

He leaned ever so slightly closer, “Finding comfort in his friendship? And what of ours?”

“Our friendship, my lord? I—,”

“I apologise, Y/N, but I do not like to see you so close with my brother. Not least because of the fear of a scandal if others saw his behaviour,” he gritted his teeth, “He touches you too often. Leans too close to speak with you and it… it is misleading.”

You gulped, “Why would you be so infuriated by the notion of him courting me, my dear Anthony? He is your brother, and he cares for me. Even if it is not him I wish did so.”

He cocked his head in confusion now, before his eyes widened in realisation of his brother’s scheming. And in considering that, he realised that it had worked.

He’d never wanted to marry, and especially never for love.

But with you stood right there at his finger tips, smiling up at him nervously with a twinkle in your eyes, he threw caution to the wind and realised that you had changed that in him.

He could no longer deny his desire to hold you, to have you entirely as his, to make you his Viscountess.

“Who do you wish to treat you as such, my lady?”

“Surely you can see the answer for yourself, Anthony.”

“I simply wish to hear you say it. But if I must do so first, as a consequence of my foolishness in not seeing it sooner, then so be it. I dislike your closeness to my brother because I miss your attention being mine. I wish to have you at my side always, to laugh with you and dance with you and just talk with you all evening. I do not wish to see Benedict court you because I wish to do so myself.”

“Anthony—,”

“Please, my love, let me finish. I have most probably been in love with you for as long as I have known you, and yet chosen not to see it out of my own stubbornness. If not for my scheming devil of a brother, I might still be in denial. But I love you most ardently, Y/N. And if you feel at all the same then I should like to make you my wife. My viscountess.”

You were speechless, perhaps for one of the first times since meeting Anthony.

You had always told him everything, always saved your last dance for him at balls, always rooted for him in every game of Pall Mall even as his competitor.

And now here he was, the famously anti-marriage Viscount asking if you too wished to wed him.

“Anthony, I had hoped it was clear as day that I too have been unfathomably in love with you for longer than I can explain,” you blushed crimson again under his gaze as a smile spread across his face, “To marry you, well, would be the only way I might find joy in marriage. I know you’ve never sought a match, let alone a love match, but I love you most dearly, my dear Anthony.”

He captured your lips with his as soon as you stopped speaking, knowing that he shouldn’t do so but hoping nobody was around.

Besides, he would soon make you his wife, and he couldn’t contain the excitement.

“I know I’ve previously had my reservations but I am no longer in denial, and I’m sorry for taking my liberties with you by kissing you before we are wed but I could not help myself. And I wish to spend a lifetime kissing you, Y/N. Will you marry me?” he looked shy all of a sudden, which you had never seen before, and you grabbed both of his hands in yours to kiss them.

“Of course, my dear, there is nothing I would like more!”

His smile became impossibly wide, and once more he kissed you out of sheer excitement.

“I’m sorry that this was so abrupt, and I have yet no ring. But my mother will be ecstatic and I plan to give you her betrothal ring because— you are the only woman worthy. And I shall spend our whole life ensuring that I make up for taking so long to do this,” he was vulnerable now, still shy under your careful gaze,

“I had no desire to marry because I had no desire to put the woman I love through the pain of losing me like my mother did my father. She was distraught but— I see now that it is no good wasting time with this fear. However long I might live, I wish to spend those years loving you and making you happy, so that any pain might be worthwhile.”

You kissed him now, tearing your gloves from your hands and reaching up to cup his face and kiss him, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. Always. And I cannot wait to be your wife. It will be the greatest honour.”

You were both hot and flustered, and it was taking everything in him not to push open your bedroom door and sweep you off your feet.

But for you, he was a gentleman, and so he settled for one final kiss atop your head and a sweet goodnight.

“We shall tell the others as we break fast tomorrow, perhaps?” you could see the dizzy joy in Anthony’s eyes as he asked this of you, and you nodded profusely.

“I cannot wait, my dear.”

“Then I will bid you good night, my love. I will dream of you, and look forward to seeing you in the morning. Sleep well, my future viscountess.”

“Sleep well, my love.”

As you went to part, you heard a rustle a little way down the corridor, both looking up to see a smug Benedict smirking, leaning on the wall just down the hallway.

“Even I underestimated my own plan. Congratulations, brother. You finally saw sense.”

———

hello! i know this is completely random as i’ve been writing for djats lately but i has this idea and felt the neeeeed to write it. feel free to request more bridgerton fics, as i’m inspired at the moment and rewatching it.

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part four.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

word count: 2602.

there's angst but it's resolved with fluff i promise!

summary: you had confessed, finally, but it was a mistake. so you walk and you walk. then you walk right back to spencer, like you always do.

a/n: i was going to take a break but i'm doing fairly well today and should be able to finish the fic tn at work! :D i went to the gym this morning and i'm just in an all around better mood hehe.

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

You just kept walking. Not having your phone meant you had to listen to the sounds of the city while you wandered, and soon enough the sun was dipping behind the buildings. You were barely sure of where you were at, and you really hoped you could find your way back to the office without your phone. God, what have you done? You ruined your friendship with your soulmate. There was no reason to deny yourself that line of thinking – soulmates – because whether he returned your feelings or not, you knew that’s what he was. And your feelings were out in the open now, anyway. He was your soulmate, handcrafted to love you. Your atoms were within centimeters of each other during the Big Bang, and all these millennia later, you had ruined what the universe had so kindly set up for you. All because you word vomited instead of waiting.

The image of Spencer’s tears was burned into your brain. How dejected he had looked. The entire time you had been walking you had refused to dwell, refused to think about it. But you were walking back to reality, to the office, and, most importantly, to him. You had to face your mistake eventually. Hopefully Ian and Anthony wouldn’t mind you taking a week off. You needed it. There would be no HR relationship papers to sign, no meetings with the four of you to discuss your new relationship. There would be no soft launch, no hard launch. No launch at all. Except maybe your heart into a fucking trench. 

One-sided soulmates had to be a thing. Because even if Spencer didn’t want you, didn’t see the same things you saw, didn’t believe in soulmates, the truth of the matter was that he was yours. There’s not another person on this godforsaken earth that understands you the way he does. No one else who can see through all your bullshit quite like him. No one else who would answer your call or FaceTime on the first ring every time, or text you back within 30 seconds, religiously. No one to cook for, no one to stay up with till the wee hours watching reruns of fucking Family Guy. You had thrown it all down the drain, your heart with it.

As you walked back in the general direction you believed the office to be in, you finally let your mind wander. You shouldn't have left. You knew that. But you had spilled your heart, and he was crying. Whether those were happy tears, or sad tears, you just couldn’t stand to look at it. You had never made him cry before, from sadness or otherwise.

//

Spence POV

“I’m sorry, I’m… I’ll go.” And they did. Y/N ripped their hands from Spencer’s, and bolted for the door. They were gone.

They didn't even give him time to react. Spencer realized he had started crying, despite him not giving his body permission, and knew that was the reason they launched out of the hallway. 

He heard the door alarm ding, signaling that someone had left. He just hoped it wasn't you.

Spencer willed his feet to move, booking it down the hall after his best friend. But you were gone.

“Where did Y/N go? Did you see?” He asked Kiana, who had been standing in the lobby. 

She wrapped him in a hug, and he just let it all out. Sobbing in the middle of his workplace was not a good look, especially at his age, but he couldn’t keep it in. She led them down to an empty meeting room, sitting him down on the couch and hugging him tightly.

“Spencer, what happened?”

He tried to speak, but his throat was tight with sadness and anger, and he could only cry.

“It’s okay, let it out. Take your time, I'm right here. Do you need anything? Excedrin, another Kickstart? Another hug?” Kiana was rubbing his back softly, doing her best to help him without overwhelming him.

Spencer shook his head, still not able to find his words. After a few more moments of tears, he grabbed a tissue from the table next to him and got into it. “Y/N told me they loved me. That they’re in love with me. I started crying, I guess, and when they saw they just… ran. They said they shouldn't have told me while we were at work, but that they couldn’t hold it in anymore. And I swear, Kiana, I was only crying because I was so fucking happy. You know how I feel about them, how in love with them I’ve been for so long. And I no sooner find out they feel the same, and they're gone. I’m kinda freakin’ out, man.” He took a breath, attempting to calm himself down a bit more. “I can't lose them, Kiana. I can't, they're my fucking soulmate, they're all I’ve wanted for so long, and it was ripped out of my hands as soon as I had it. I’m scared, I’m really scared. Terrified. I wasn't crying because I was mad, I was elated. But I didn't even have a chance to change their mind. They’re just… gone.”

The tears started back up, and Kiana hugged him once more. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. They’re not gone, Spencer. They're probably just as overwhelmed as you are, and needed a minute. That’s all. Give Y/N some time to cool off and sort their brain out, okay? Let them process this, and then they’ll be back and you guys can talk. If Y/N has really felt this way just as long as you have, that was probably a really big and scary thing for them. And when you're doing big, scary things, a reaction like tears could be misconstrued. I’m sure everything will be fine once they cool off.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Spencer supplied, wiping at his tears with another tissue. “But I really don't know how I’m going to be able to get any actual work done just sitting and waiting for them to get back.” His tears had finally come to an end, and he was working on steadying his breathing so he could stay calm. 

Kiana and Spencer sat in silence for a few minutes, Kiana giving him little pep talks here and there and Spencer blowing his nose now and again. When the room felt a little lighter, Spencer was the one to break the silence.

“You know, I was planning on telling them soon. I was trying to figure out how I wanted to do it. They actually took some of the words right out of my mouth. It’s so tiring to come to work everyday and pretend I haven't been dreaming about them, pretend I haven't been missing their cooking and our hang outs. And I know I'm the one who pulled back first, I know I was the one who fucked everything up these past few weeks. I pulled back, I stopped being so touchy, I stopped inviting them over. That was my doing. But I thought I was protecting them. Or myself. I don't know anymore, I guess. I just really want my best friend back, in any capacity. If I ruined everything, so be it, I just need them to be in my life. At the very least as a friend.” He shuffled in his seat, suddenly filled with energy. “Kiana, I love them so much. What if I ruined it all?”

“You didn't, Spencer.” Kiana gripped his shoulders, needing him to hear her words. “Emotions are hard, but you have to feel them to get through them. And so does Y/N. Let them have their time to process, like we’re doing now, and in no time everything will be fixed. You just have to be patient. You’ve waited eight years so far, you can wait another hour or two, right?” 

This evoked a laugh from Spencer, which felt nice. He wanted to laugh with Y/N again. “Yeah, yeah I guess I can wait another hour. Two hours is too far though!”

//

Spencer sat at his desk, phone face down since Y/N didn't take theirs when they left, a post-it note placed precariously over the time on his laptop. He couldn’t linger on how long it had been since they had left. They’d be back, and they would work this out. He just had to be patient.

Luckily, no one had come over to try and talk to him. He guessed that seeing a grown man break down sobbing in public was enough for everyone to realize he needed a bit of space. He got a few Slack messages of people sending him their thoughts, which made him happy. He didn’t respond to any of them. He couldn’t find it in himself to put a happy face on and thank them for their concern, tell them he’s okay. Because in the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay again.

Deep in his own head, after far longer than he realized, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Y/N.

Spencer shot out of his chair and hugged them, the tears coming back even stronger. “Y/N, please don’t leave me like that again. I’m sorry I scared you when I started crying,” he took a breath, still hugging his soulmate harder than was necessary. “And I’m sorry I’m crying now. I need you to know I’m only crying because I’m so fucking happy, I promise. I promise you, Y/N, they’re happy tears. I love you.”

Y/N hadn’t spoken a word, but he could feel them sobbing quietly into his shoulder. It was late enough in the day that most people had left, and he knew the pod was empty save for them. He cradled their head with his right hand, his left hand rubbing circles into the small of their back. “I love you, Peach, you know I love you. More than you think, more than you know, more than you love me. I’ve loved you every day for eight years, and I will love you until the light leaves my fucking eyes. Even after that. I’m so sorry I scared you off, I love you, my peach, I love you.”

Y/N broke the hug, a bubble of laughter erupting from them. “I guess it’s your turn to word vomit, huh?” As they both wiped at their eyes, Y/N laughed again. “Oh, I’m sorry. I snotted on your jacket. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“I’ll forgive you for anything, Y/N.”

“Can you forgive me for dropping that bomb on you and immediately running away?”

“Only if you promise me that you meant it.”

“Of course I meant it, Spinner.” You pulled out a nickname, one you hadn’t used for months, knowing that would calm him a bit. “I love you, with every fiber of my stupid being. And I’m sorry I left you like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky.”

You did your secret pinky swear handshake, where once the pinkies are wrapped, the person making the promise places a kiss on the other person’s hand. “I love you, Peach.”

“I love you, Spence. Always will.”

//

Reader POV

After such a painful yet wonderful day, you were ready for a calm night. You wanted to see Spencer, of course, but you knew you both needed some time apart to think about how this was all going to play out. Are you going to tell the fans? Are you going to change how you interact on camera? If you don’t tell the fans, would he be down to give them hints in videos or on Instagram stories? How long did you guys have to wait to move in together? You weren’t even technically dating yet, you had only professed your love for one another.

You should probably slow down. This was all still new, anyway. You both had forever to figure it out, luckily.

You fiddled with your keys till you got your apartment door open, ready to draw a nice, hot bath and destress in the tub. You dropped your bag off on your couch and headed to your bathroom.

God, you looked like shit. Your eyes were red from all the tears and emotions, you had a raging migraine, your dark circles were the worst you’d ever seen them. You set about washing your face, started the bath, and lit your favorite candles. You turned the lights off, turned your playlist on, and undressed.

You sunk into the heat, your muscles letting the tension seep slowly out of them, and reflected on today’s events.

You were extremely happy to have worked everything out in one day. You were aware of how lucky you and Spencer were. Friends to lovers has its perks, you guess. You were so scared that you would have to be without him for much, much longer. Any time away from him was excruciating, though you’d never let him know that. He’d bully you endlessly if he knew how attached you were. Though you supposed he felt the same way, since he loved you just as much as you loved him.

What a fucking day. You hummed along to the end of a Daft Punk song, sinking deeper into the water. Breathless came on next. Entirely unconsciously, you shot up. You splashed some water on the floor in the process, but your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Ugh,” you groaned to your empty bathroom, “Leave me breathless indeed.”

Willing your heart to slow to a normal pace, you decided your bath was over. You just wanted to lay down and decompress. As you were toweling off, you heard a knock at the door.

It wasn’t so late that a visitor would be a problem, but you also had way too fucking busy of a day to hang out with anyone right now. You stood still, silent, hoping they’d just leave you be. You can catch up with whoever it is once your brain and heart are done reeling from the nonsense of your day.

You waited a couple more seconds, silence falling across your apartment. You let out a breath, and then it caught in your throat when you heard the doorknob. You raced to put a shirt and shorts on, not caring about your looks considering someone was trying to break into your home.

You ran to grab a makeshift weapon from the hall when your door swung open. You nearly screamed, but it was Spencer. You had forgotten he had a key.

“Whoa, Y/N. You okay?” Spencer ran to you, clearly catching that you were freaking out a bit.

“I should beat you, Charles Spencer Agnew, how dare you not warn me!”

Spencer threw his hands up in mock surrender, backing away a little. “In all fairness, I texted you. You didn’t respond but I saw on Find My Friends that you were home and I just got worried, I guess.” He rubbed the nape of his neck, sheepish. “I know that today was… a lot. And I know you tend to isolate yourself when you experience big things. I don’t know, I guess I was just scared I was going to lose you twice in one day, you know?” 

You closed the distance between you and your best friend, wrapping him in a hug. He hugged back, tight. “You’ll never lose me, Spence. Ever. Not even if you want to.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn

[amethystarachnid]

I have an idea for this Accidental Roommates AU (example: both character and reader book the same apartment and are now roommates), and I hope this makes sense to you! So, it's with Tony&fem!reader. They'll turn into a lovely couple after some time, and adopt a kitten/cat together? Tony Stark is the biggest cat dad in the world, and no one will convince me otherwise hehe.

Thank you! 🧡 (or you can ignore this)

ROOM FOR TWO - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ Summary: Finding out that the apartment you were supposed to live in is overbooked isn't the best way to start college, especially if your roommate it Tony Stark in all his arrogance. Will things between you two change when you have to co-parent a stray kitten?

ᯓ★ part II

ᯓ★ TW(s): pure fluff

ᯓ★ AU: Accidental roommates

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

A campus rental, small and cozy, isn’t what you pictured when you imagined your first college apartment. The place is narrow, the walls are beige, and the furniture is outdated—but it’s private. Or so you thought.

When you first walk in, your suitcase bumping against the doorframe, you’re ready to start unpacking, excited about this small taste of independence. But before you make it past the entryway, you hear footsteps and a muttered curse.

Then you see him. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you like you’re the one who doesn’t belong here.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice is sharp, confused, and a little annoyed. He’s got dark hair that’s messily falling into his eyes and he’s wearing a band T-shirt, ripped and faded like it’s been through too many wash cycles. His jeans are equally worn, fitting him a little too well, and he has this stance—relaxed but tense at the same time—that suggests he isn’t someone who’s often surprised. You know who he is, of course. He’s in your engineering class, always the one who asks questions so far above everyone’s heads that even the professor sometimes looks thrown.

“Um… I live here?” You don’t mean to make it sound like a question, but it kind of is. Because despite the paperwork in your bag and the email from the landlord, this feels wrong. Or at the very least, unexpected.

“No, you don’t,” he counters, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “I do.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to stand a little straighter. “I signed the lease last month. I have emails and everything.”

“Yeah?” He pulls out his phone, scrolling with one hand before he flashes his screen toward you. “So did I.”

You squint, trying to make out the details through the faint glare. And then it hits you. Your landlord—the one who’d been juggling your papers at your first meeting, his glasses slipping down his nose as he talked in circles about tenant rights and late fees—must have double-booked the apartment.

Great.

Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, this has to be some kind of clerical error. I’ll call the landlord and sort it out. This isn’t—” he gestures to you, almost like he’s waving you off, “—what I signed up for.”

“Hey,” you say, putting a hand on your hip. “I didn’t sign up for this either. You think I wanted a roommate?”

“Considering I was promised a solo apartment? No.” He rolls his eyes, the look almost theatrical. But there’s something tired in it, something that tells you he’s just as put out as you are.

You cross your arms and look him over, not backing down. “Fine. Call him.”

He stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re challenging him, before he pulls up his phone again. He dials, waits for a second, and then mutters a low curse when he’s sent to voicemail. “Of course,” he grumbles. “The guy’s probably out somewhere completely unreachable.”

“Figures,” you mutter back. “This is a disaster.”

Tony shoves his phone back into his pocket and leans against the counter, watching you with a resigned sort of amusement. “Well, I don’t have anywhere else to go. And unless you’re secretly a millionaire with a spare apartment lined up, I’m guessing you don’t either.”

The sarcasm in his voice makes you narrow your eyes. “I have a backup plan, thank you very much,” you lie, because you’d rather not give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s got the upper hand here. But he’s not buying it. The way he’s smirking tells you that much.

“Right,” he says, dragging out the word, “but if you’re planning on staying at this backup plan, you’d better let me know soon because I’d rather not waste time unpacking if I’ll be the only one here.”

You bite back an irritated response, taking a deep breath instead. “Look,” you start, forcing yourself to be diplomatic, “why don’t we just… figure this out later? The landlord will be available at some point, and we can get this sorted then.”

“Fine by me,” he replies with a careless shrug, but you notice his eyes linger on you a little longer than you expect. “So what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you reply shortly, unsure if you want to give him any more than that just yet.

“Tony,” he says. There’s something about the way he says it that feels almost like a challenge, like he’s waiting to see how you’ll respond.

But you just nod, trying to ignore the way he’s sizing you up, like he’s deciding whether you’re friend or foe. You’re here to study, to focus on your degree—not to get tangled up in whatever Tony Stark’s got going on.

“So, um…” You gesture around the apartment awkwardly, not really sure what to do next. “I guess we should… set some ground rules?”

“Sure.” He pushes off the counter and stands in the middle of the small kitchen, arms folded as he looks at you expectantly. “You start.”

“Alright,” you say, steeling yourself. “Number one: respect each other’s space.”

He nods, almost a bit too seriously. “Agreed. Number two: no loud music after ten.”

You arch a brow, half-smiling. “Already calling me a party animal?”

Tony shrugs, unbothered. “I’ve seen you in class. You don’t look like the type who needs extra chaos, that’s all.”

You’re not sure if it’s a compliment or a jab, but you let it slide. “Number three: split the cleaning. I’m not a maid, and I don’t plan on cleaning up after you.”

“Noted.” He holds up his hands in a mock defensive gesture. “I’m pretty tidy anyway.”

“Good.” You cross your arms, feeling slightly more in control of the situation now that you’re laying down some structure. “Number four: don’t touch my food.”

He smirks at that, leaning a little closer. “You think I want your ramen?”

“It’s very good ramen,” you retort, bristling a bit at the implication.

“Sure, sure,” he says, grinning now. “Anything else?”

“Not for now,” you say, though you know there are probably a dozen more things you could add. But you’ll figure those out as you go. For now, you just want to unpack and get this over with.

“Cool,” he says, nodding in agreement. He turns, heading toward the living area, which also serves as a shared bedroom thanks to a convertible couch and a twin bed crammed into one corner. “So, who gets the couch?”

You hesitate, looking between the couch and the twin bed. The bed is closer to the window, which would be nice, but the couch has more privacy since it’s further from the door. “Uh… maybe we take turns?”

Tony snorts, plopping himself down on the couch and stretching out, arms folded behind his head. “I’m good here,” he says with a smirk, like he’s already staked his claim.

Your irritation flares again, but you let it go, deciding that it’s not worth the fight. “Fine. I’ll take the bed.”

“Perfect.” He doesn’t even open his eyes, clearly satisfied with the arrangement.

You grab your suitcase and start unpacking your things into the small dresser on the far side of the room. Every now and then, you catch him watching you from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything.

The silence stretches out, a little too heavy and a little too tense, until you can’t take it anymore.

“So,” you say, desperate for a distraction, “what’s your major?”

“Mechanical engineering,” he replies without missing a beat. “What about you?”

“Engineering, too,” you say, feeling a bit relieved that you have something in common. But he just raises an eyebrow, like he’s not sure if he’s impressed or skeptical.

“Didn’t peg you as the type,” he says, his tone teasing but not unkind.

You laugh a little, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? And what’s ‘the type’?”

He shrugs. “Just… different. I dunno. You don’t seem like you’d be into all the math and circuits and long nights in the lab.”

“Shows what you know,” you say, surprised by your own defensiveness. But it’s true—engineering is your passion, even if people don’t always expect it from you.

Tony sits up a little, watching you with newfound interest. “Fair enough. Maybe you’ll surprise me.”

The way he says it, like he’s almost daring you to, makes you feel like you have something to prove. “Maybe I will.”

He grins, and you can’t help but smile back, despite yourself. There’s something about him that’s annoyingly charming, even if he’s a bit smug.

“So, guess we’re stuck together,” he says, stretching again and giving a mock yawn as he looks around the small space. “Might as well make the most of it, right?”

“Right,” you say, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach. It’s going to be a long semester.

The evening settles in, the sky outside darkening as you both settle into your corners of the small apartment. And even though it’s awkward and tense and neither of you is thrilled about the arrangement, there’s a strange sense of possibility in the air. As much as you hate to admit it, maybe being roommates with Tony Stark won’t be the worst thing in the world.

Or maybe it’ll be a disaster.

The first few weeks of living with Tony Stark are, in a word, chaotic.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that sharing a space with him means constantly navigating a fine line between friendly coexistence and utter frustration. He has this way of making himself at home in every corner of the apartment, like he’s somehow managed to expand into all the free space. You can’t go to the bathroom without finding his razor on the sink, his textbooks spread across the counter, or his laundry draped over a chair. And then there’s his music—always loud and mostly classic rock, blaring at all hours, completely ignoring your “no loud music after ten” rule.

One morning, as you walk bleary-eyed to the kitchen for coffee, you trip over a pile of Tony’s sneakers lying by the door.

“Tony!” you shout, cursing as you nearly spill your coffee. “Your shoes are everywhere. I can’t even walk in here without tripping.”

He pokes his head around the corner, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Relax, Y/N, it’s just a couple of shoes. Don’t get your circuits crossed.” He grins around the toothbrush, somehow managing to look amused and cocky at the same time.

You glare. “It’s not just the shoes. It’s the shoes, your textbooks, the dishes you leave in the sink—do you know what a dishwasher is?”

He raises an eyebrow, half-amused, half-unbothered. “Do you know what a chill pill is?”

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath, and try to focus on your coffee. He’s insufferable, really, and yet… somehow, every time he flashes that grin, you feel a flicker of something you can’t quite name. Not that it makes him any less irritating.

The semester picks up, and with it, so do the all-nighters. You’re both in the same engineering program, and you’re both competitive. When he’s hunched over his laptop at two in the morning, the screen casting his face in an eerie blue light, you find yourself in the same position, furiously scribbling equations, desperate to finish before he does. Occasionally, you catch him glancing over at you, eyebrow raised, like he’s silently challenging you to keep up. And you do.

One night, you’re both exhausted, sprawled on opposite ends of the couch after a particularly grueling set of lab assignments. You’re barely holding a pencil in your hand, too tired to even write another line. He’s in the same state, eyes half-closed, notebook resting against his chest.

“You’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he mumbles, half-asleep.

“Thanks,” you mutter back, too tired to argue or throw a sarcastic response his way. “You’re not that bad, either.”

He huffs, like he’s barely holding back a laugh. You don’t know why, but the sound actually makes you smile.

Tony’s bad habits still drive you crazy, though, especially when it comes to his tendency to hog the tiny bathroom you both share. One morning, after he’s been in there for over twenty minutes, you finally bang on the door.

“Tony, hurry up! I have class in half an hour!”

The door cracks open, and he peeks his head out, hair still dripping from his shower. “Calm down, I’m almost done.”

“Almost done? You’ve been in there forever!” you snap, crossing your arms.

He grins, completely unfazed. “If you’re so desperate, feel free to join me.”

You feel your face heat up, and before you can come up with a comeback, he winks and shuts the door again, leaving you fuming and red-faced in the hallway. That’s Tony, always pushing buttons just because he can.

Over time, though, things… change. Somewhere between the petty arguments and the grudging coexistence, you start to fall into a rhythm. You still bicker, but there’s an unspoken understanding now. You’ll swap the couch and the bed without making a fuss, automatically take turns in the kitchen, and sometimes, you’ll even study together.

You find out that Tony’s more than just the arrogant guy from class—he’s sharp, quick with a joke, and oddly attentive. Sometimes, you’ll wake up to find a fresh cup of coffee waiting for you, and he’ll wave it off, muttering something about it being “just convenient.” And in return, you start picking up his shoes without complaining, throwing his clothes into the hamper, and even bringing him snacks during your late-night study sessions.

It’s a Friday night, and for once, you’re not spending it at home or at the library. You’ve actually got a date—a rarity in your life—and you spent more time than you’d like to admit getting ready, carefully putting on makeup and smoothing down your dress.

Tony, of course, has been watching with that teasing glint in his eyes the entire time, slouched on the couch with his laptop, occasionally smirking like he knows something you don’t.

“You’re actually going out with this guy?” he asks, after you’ve checked your reflection for the fifth time.

“Yes, Tony, people do go on dates. You should try it sometime.”

He laughs, that casual, easy chuckle that you hate because it always manages to sound good. “I don’t need a date, Y/N. I get enough action as it is.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your purse. “Enjoy your action tonight, Stark. I’ll be back late.”

But as the evening wears on, your mood changes. You’re sitting at a café table, checking your watch for the third time. Your “date” was supposed to meet you half an hour ago, but there’s no sign of him. A growing feeling of embarrassment builds in your chest, and with each passing minute, it gets worse. You don’t want to be that girl who waits around for someone who clearly isn’t coming. With a sigh, you grab your bag and head home, hoping Tony won’t notice your early return.

When you open the door, though, Tony looks up from the couch, eyebrows raised. “That was… fast.”

You sigh, closing the door and leaning against it, trying not to let the disappointment show on your face. “He, um… he didn’t show up.”

Tony’s expression changes, softening a little. He puts his laptop aside and stands up, crossing the room to stand in front of you. For once, there’s no teasing in his eyes, no smirk. “Wait, he stood you up?”

You shrug, forcing a smile. “It’s not a big deal. I probably wasn’t his type, anyway.”

“Not his type?” Tony’s face hardens a little, his tone sharp. “Y/N, he’s an idiot. You’re amazing. He just missed out on something great.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t have to say that.”

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out almost instinctively to touch your shoulder. “I’m not saying it because I have to. I’m saying it because it’s true.” His gaze holds yours, steady and warm, and for the first time, you realize just how intense his eyes are.

There’s a moment of silence, heavy and charged, and you feel your pulse quicken. You’re standing close, closer than usual, and for once, there’s no witty comeback, no sarcastic remark from him. Just Tony, looking at you like he sees something in you that no one else does.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, swallowing against the sudden tightness in your throat. “I just… I guess I feel a little stupid, that’s all.”

Tony’s face softens, and to your surprise, he pulls you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re not stupid, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice a warm murmur against your hair. “Some guys are just idiots. Trust me—I know a lot of them.”

You laugh against his shoulder, feeling some of the hurt and embarrassment melt away. “Thanks, Tony.”

He pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders, his gaze searching yours. “Anytime. Seriously.”

For a moment, you just stand there, lost in his eyes, feeling something shift between you. He’s still Tony—annoying, messy, impossible—but there’s something else there now, something unspoken. And suddenly, the idea of him as just your roommate feels almost… disappointing.

He seems to feel it too, because he lets go and steps back, clearing his throat. “So, uh… if you want, we could watch a movie or something? My treat. I have some popcorn in the cupboard, and I promise not to talk through the entire thing.”

You smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

And as you settle onto the couch together, for once in comfortable silence, you can’t help but feel like this night turned out better than you expected.

The first time it happens, it’s an accident. You don’t even plan on a second Friday movie night, but somehow, it just becomes part of the routine.

A week after your canceled date, you both end up crashing on the couch with a couple of cheap takeout containers, both too tired to think about cooking or studying. Tony puts on an old action flick, and you spend half the movie rolling your eyes at the ridiculous stunts, only to find him muttering a dramatic running commentary just to make you laugh. By the end of it, you’re not sure if the movie was any good, but you’re grinning, and you realize it’s the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks.

From then on, Friday movie nights are a thing.

Every Friday, no matter how hectic your schedules are, you and Tony put aside a couple of hours to flop down on the couch and watch something. The movies vary—from classic thrillers to cheesy rom-coms, and even the occasional animated film—but somehow, it always feels like the best part of your week. And, slowly, it becomes one of the best parts of living with Tony.

You look forward to the comfort of those quiet evenings, knowing that you can just curl up with a blanket and relax without any pressure or expectations. Tony usually picks the movie, claiming he has “refined taste,” and you mostly let him—except for the times when you insist on watching something with a little more plot and a little less gratuitous explosion.

One Friday Night

It’s late in the semester, and you’re running on fumes. Between exams, projects, and late-night study sessions, you’re barely getting four hours of sleep a night. You’re slouched against the arm of the couch, wrapped in your favorite blanket, trying to keep your eyes open as Tony scrolls through the movie options.

He shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised. “You sure you’re up for this? You look about two seconds away from passing out.”

You wave him off, trying to suppress a yawn. “I’m fine. Just… pick something, preferably not too loud, and not too complicated.”

“Noted,” he says with a small smirk, settling on a lighthearted rom-com.

You start the movie together, but within minutes, your eyelids are drooping, the exhaustion from the week catching up with you. Tony glances over at you occasionally, eyes softening each time he catches you nodding off, but he doesn’t say anything. He just shifts slightly so you’re more comfortable, like he’s already expecting you to fall asleep.

And then, without really thinking about it, you let yourself sink against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you drift off. He freezes at first, his body going stiff as he looks down at you, eyes widening. But you’re already halfway to sleep, curled up with your blanket, completely unaware of how close you’ve moved.

Tony’s expression softens, and he settles back into the couch, letting his arm drape casually along the back, his body relaxing beneath your weight. He takes a deep breath, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He’s always liked having you close, but you’re usually too guarded, too quick to pull away if he even nudges a little closer during the movie. But right now, with you dozing off against him, he can’t help but feel a quiet kind of happiness.

When the credits roll, he’s still sitting there, one arm around your shoulders, careful not to move too much in case it wakes you. He’s not sure why it feels so right, holding you like this, feeling the warmth of your body against his, but he doesn’t want it to end. Not yet.

Eventually, you shift a little, mumbling something in your sleep, and he swallows, feeling his heart skip a beat. He’s never thought of himself as someone who’s into all that romantic stuff, but right now, he’s sure he wouldn’t mind just staying here like this for a little longer.

After that first time, the accidental cuddling becomes a regular part of Friday nights. Some weeks, you manage to stay awake for most of the movie, laughing and joking with him, but other times, especially when you’re exhausted, you inevitably end up leaning against him. And each time, Tony stays perfectly still, like he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, secretly relishing the feel of you snuggled against him, warm and close.

He never says a word about it, and you don’t notice, or at least, you don’t seem to. It’s a quiet, unspoken thing between you. And in a strange way, it brings you closer, turning those Friday nights into something special.

One Friday, as you’re drifting off, you mumble something into his shoulder. “Thanks, Tony… for putting up with me,” you say, voice thick with sleep.

He chuckles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Anytime, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low. “You’re a lot easier to put up with than you think.”

And even though you’re already asleep, the faint smile on your lips tells him you know.

One rainy Tuesday, you’re buried in textbooks, barely aware of the time, when the door bursts open, and Tony steps in, drenched from head to toe. There’s water dripping from his hair, his hoodie soaked through, but that’s not what catches your attention. It’s the tiny, gray-furred creature cradled in his arms, mewling pitifully as it clings to his chest.

You gape at him. “Tony, what—?”

He grins, holding up the little kitten, who peers at you with wide, curious eyes. “Found her outside the library, all alone in the rain. Look at this face—she’s practically begging for a home.”

You blink, not entirely sure how to respond. “Tony, we can’t just… bring a stray home.”

“Why not?” He’s already taken off his jacket, now gently rubbing the kitten dry with the inside of his sleeve. “She clearly needed someone, and I figured, hey, we’ve got space. I already named her and everything.”

You fold your arms, fighting a smile. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is her name?”

He lifts the kitten up, gazing at her with an affectionate look you’ve never seen on his face before. “This is Dumpling,” he says, voice soft as he scratches under her tiny chin. “She looks like a dumpling, don’t you think?”

You burst out laughing, surprised at how fitting it is. The kitten has round, wide eyes and soft, fluffy gray fur that’s sticking up in odd directions. Despite your initial protests, you can already feel yourself softening.

“Alright, Dumpling,” you sigh, reaching out to stroke her tiny head as she lets out a delicate purr. “I guess you’re ours now.”

Tony grins, triumphant, and Dumpling stretches a little, her tiny body relaxing against his chest. And just like that, you have a cat.

Within days, Dumpling has taken over your lives—and, somehow, your relationship with Tony transforms right along with it. The two of you fall into an easy routine of “parenting,” like you’ve somehow become an unlikely team. Dumpling’s food bowl is filled, water is changed, and cat toys litter the living room floor, a mess that somehow makes the apartment feel homier.

You and Tony develop a sort of playful banter around it, too.

One morning, you catch him standing at the kitchen counter, holding a small spoonful of tuna over Dumpling’s head, his expression one of extreme concentration as he tries to get her to “high-five” for it. You snort as you walk into the kitchen.

“Really, Tony? We’re training her now?”

He turns, smirking. “Hey, she’s got potential. I think with a little more time, she might be able to help us with homework.”

You roll your eyes but secretly love the way he’s taken to Dumpling. “You’re just spoiling her,” you say, grabbing your coffee.

“Oh, and you’re not?” He raises an eyebrow, pointing to the fluffy cat bed you impulse-bought online last week. “I think someone’s getting a little too attached.”

“Okay, fair.” You shrug, and as if on cue, Dumpling saunters over to you, rubbing against your leg and purring. You bend down to pick her up, laughing as she curls up in your arms. “But I’m the responsible one. She’s clearly a daddy’s girl.”

“Oh, so I’m ‘Dad’ now?” he teases, reaching over to scratch Dumpling behind the ears. She stretches into his hand, and he gives you a mock-stern look. “That makes you the mom, doesn’t it?”

You feel a slight flush at his words, but you roll your eyes, playing along. “Fine. But if she wakes up at three in the morning, ‘Dad’ is definitely taking that shift.”

He chuckles, and there’s a warmth to it, a little spark that seems to light up every time he glances at you.

As the weeks pass, Dumpling becomes an integral part of your Friday night ritual, usually curled up in your lap or wedged between the two of you as you watch movies. She has this adorable habit of pawing at Tony’s arm if he stops petting her, and though he pretends to be annoyed, you know he secretly loves it.

One night, Tony is stretched out on the couch, Dumpling sprawled lazily across his chest as he scratches her head. You’re curled up beside him, drowsy after a long week, watching a classic rom-com as the rain patters against the window. It’s cozy, peaceful, and you’re so comfortable that you can’t help but let your head rest against his shoulder. The weight of his arm, slung casually over the back of the couch, feels like it’s holding you there, like maybe he wants you just as close as you want to be.

Somewhere in the movie, Dumpling hops down and trots off to her bed, leaving just the two of you on the couch. You’re both quiet, the movie long forgotten as the rain falls softly outside.

When Tony shifts beside you, you feel him turn slightly, his gaze lingering. You look up at him, and for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the space between you seeming smaller and smaller.

He clears his throat, almost like he’s about to break the silence, but instead, he just chuckles softly, brushing a stray hair from your face. “You know, I think Dumpling was onto something.”

“Onto what?” you murmur, heart beating just a little faster.

He grins, that warm, gentle grin you’ve come to love. “She figured out she likes being close to you way faster than I did.”

Your breath catches, and you’re not sure if it’s the rain or the warmth in his voice, but something inside you pulls you toward him, drawn by the tenderness in his eyes, the way his fingers lightly brush your cheek. “Tony…”

He leans in, so close now you can feel his breath on your skin. “Yeah?”

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t wait, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s tender, unhurried, like he’s savoring the moment, and you melt into him, feeling the warmth of his hand gently cradling your face. All those unspoken moments, the teasing, the playful “parenting” of Dumpling, the late-night study sessions—all of it seems to click into place, like you were always meant to be here, like this.

When you finally pull back, your face flushes with warmth, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“I didn’t know I needed that,” he says softly, a little breathless, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

You smile, your fingers finding his as you hold his hand. “Neither did I. Guess we can thank Dumpling.”

He laughs, that soft, happy sound that makes your heart skip a beat. “Yeah, our little matchmaker.”

From then on, the apartment feels different, warmer. Friday nights turn into something even sweeter, and Dumpling, your shared “little family member,” watches with a quiet approval, curling up beside you as you and Tony share the couch, hands intertwined, each of you finally knowing exactly where you belong.

Being with Tony as a couple is somehow both everything you expected and completely different. The teasing and playful dynamic remains, but there’s a new, unspoken warmth in everything you do together, a kind of quiet intimacy that’s hard to put into words.

You both quickly fall into a routine, but with small moments that make your heart race, the soft touches and lingering glances that remind you this is real now. Dumpling is still the center of attention in your little “family,” and her mischievous nature keeps you both on your toes.

It’s a lazy Tuesday morning, and you’re attempting to get ready for class. You’re putting on your makeup in the bathroom when Tony comes up behind you, arms slipping around your waist, chin propped on your shoulder as he gazes at your reflection in the mirror.

“You know, you look pretty cute in the mornings, even if you’re annoyed,” he murmurs, grinning as he watches your expression in the mirror. Dumpling is at your feet, playfully pawing at the hem of his jeans as he nuzzles against your shoulder.

“‘Annoyed’ is putting it lightly,” you say, though a smile slips through. “Dumpling decided to wake me up at 4 a.m. because someone decided it was a good idea to feed her a can of tuna last night.”

He shrugs, unrepentant. “She deserves the best. Besides, you look extra pretty when you’re slightly annoyed.” He presses a gentle kiss on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You roll your eyes but turn to face him, the playfulness in his eyes melting into something softer. He brushes a thumb over your cheek and then kisses you softly. You hear a soft meow at your feet, and Tony chuckles against your lips, pulling back only to scoop Dumpling up. “Alright, little one. Mom and Dad have classes to get to. Try not to destroy the place while we’re gone.”

Dumpling mews indignantly but seems satisfied when Tony scratches her head, her loud purr filling the bathroom.

Word about you and Tony spreads across campus faster than either of you expects. For a while, you just think you’re imagining the occasional stares, the murmurs when you and Tony sit together at lunch, his arm slung casually over the back of your chair as he chats with his friends. But soon enough, the stares turn into glares, particularly from some of the girls who used to linger around him before you two were official.

You overhear whispers in the library one afternoon as you’re studying. Two girls at a nearby table are staring over, murmuring to each other with pinched expressions.

“Can you believe he’s with her? Tony Stark?” one of them says, not-so-subtly looking you up and down.

The other girl huffs, rolling her eyes. “She must’ve done something to reel him in. I mean, he could do way better.”

Their words sting, but you pretend not to notice, focusing instead on your notes. Just then, Tony appears behind you, pressing a kiss to your temple, and plopping down in the seat next to you. The two girls exchange wide-eyed glances, their whispers silencing instantly. You try to brush it off, but Tony notices the tension in your shoulders.

“Don’t listen to them,” he says quietly, his hand finding yours beneath the table. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You look at him, and he gives you that soft, reassuring smile that makes everything else fade away. With him beside you, the whispers and stares don’t matter. You squeeze his hand, feeling a quiet pride at being the one he chose.

The Friday movie nights are still sacred, but now they have an even cozier feel. You and Tony snuggle up on the couch, Dumpling curled between you or lazily sprawled across your laps. The cat’s purring is a constant soundtrack, her favorite place being Tony’s lap, where she can knead her tiny paws against his hoodie.

One night, you’re nestled together, Dumpling snoozing away as the credits roll on an old thriller Tony insisted on watching. You turn to him, still feeling the thrill of the movie but comforted by his warmth beside you.

“I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?” you murmur, resting your head against his chest.

He chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “The best team. Even if Dumpling keeps trying to sabotage my snacks.” He’s referring to how Dumpling “steals” the popcorn from his lap whenever he’s not looking.

You smile, pulling his arm closer around you. “And if she’s got any competition for attention on campus, I think I know who her biggest fan is.”

He laughs, his arm tightening around you, his face lighting up. “Well, can you blame me? Between you and Dumpling, I’ve got everything I need.”

It’s a quiet Saturday morning, and you’re curled up in bed, still half-asleep, when you feel the mattress dip slightly. You open one eye to see Tony settling Dumpling gently beside you, her little head nestled into your pillow. He grins as you blink at him, half-confused and half-amused.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you. Dumpling lets out a tiny squeak between the two of you, as if demanding her own share of attention.

With Tony’s gentle kiss, the cozy weight of Dumpling snuggled next to you, and the soft light filtering through the window, you can’t remember ever feeling this content. It’s just a small moment, but it’s perfect, each day settling you further into this life you’re building together.

One night, you’re both lying in bed, Dumpling curled up at the foot, fast asleep. You’re wrapped in Tony’s arms, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your shoulder as you lie in comfortable silence, the room lit by the soft glow of the city outside.

Out of nowhere, Tony clears his throat, and you can feel his heartbeat quicken slightly. He takes a breath, then murmurs, “I love you.”

It’s so soft that you almost miss it, but your heart skips, warmth flooding through you. You look up, seeing the nervous but hopeful look in his eyes.

A smile spreads across your face as you reach up, touching his cheek. “I love you too, Tony,” you say, voice soft but steady.

His face breaks into a grin, and he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead as if sealing the words between you. Dumpling lets out a sleepy, annoyed noise, but you both laugh, neither of you moving.

if you liked the story don't forget to leave a like, a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more! <3

[thecapricunt1616]

Promptober Day 7 👻

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 (𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭): 6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since Carmy had left you without a word. You had felt it coming, though. He had become more flighty, stopped answering your texts- stopped coming over at random hours of the night after he’d gotten off work. You had been completely and utterly ghosted.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: WEEEEEEEE!!!! Welcome to day SEVEN of promptober! A whole week done already! Again, thank you so much for the love that everyone has been showing on the prompts for kink&promptober up to now! As always,  you can view my schedule & masterlist for this celebration right 🦇here🦇! You can also view the same for my 2024 Kinktober celebration right 🎃here🎃! & If you'd like to be added to the taglist for either celebration, comment on the according masterlist & I will add you! PS - Can you guess what song this blurb is based off of? Hehe 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 750+ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Sad Carmy, Swearing, No use of y/n 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬: @/𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐤𝐚-𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬

6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since Carmy had left you without a word. You had felt it coming, though. He had become more flighty, stopped answering your texts- stopped coming over at random hours of the night after he’d gotten off work. You had been completely and utterly ghosted. 

All that though, for his location to still be on for you. When you were feeling extra depressed, or angry- you would go look at it. 9 times out of 10, it was at The Bear, or his Apartment. Tonight though was different, some bar a few blocks from your apartment ; The Black Dog. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Another lie. You thought to yourself. Due to Donna’s problems- Carmy had sworn to you he never drinks anything other then beer now and again, and only 2 and max 3 if it’s his birthday. He also claimed to hate bars, so why was he there- when there are fucking flood warnings it was pouring out so hard no less. 

You put your phone down, crossing your arms and getting back into your current show you’d been hyperfixating on. A couple of hours later, just as your eyelids had started to feel heavy you heard a rattling at your window, causing you to jump and squeak in fear sitting up quickly. 

Your dog sits up quickly, pinning his ears back and growling as you got up and heard a slurred “‘s me- f-fuckin freezin’ out ‘ere” before more tapping and you rushed over to the window to see Carmy there soaked like a wet cat with a tipped pink nose and bright wind nipped cheeks. You open up the window at record speed, helping him in 

“What in the fuck are you doing here?!” You scolded, grabbing his shaking ice like fingers and bringing them to your lips, blowing your warm breath over them. You could literally hear his teeth chatter. 

“Uh- sh-shit um. I c-couldn’t drive m’sloshed n’the L is closed cause the rain n’m too far from home to walk and I was thinkin’bout you” he manages to get out between quick panting, shivering breaths. You shook your head, dragging him to the bathroom and plugging the tub to start him a hot bath. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Carmen? I don’t even know where to start” you said and he sighed, closing his eyes and he swayed a bit where he stood, grabbing onto the towel rack to steady himself. 

“Uhhhh-“ he hiccups “actually ‘er like why did I do what I did?” He asked stupidly, drunkenly as you pour in epsom salt for his likely to be sore muscles tomorrow after running (and likely tripping and falling due to the tear in his knee of his jeans) in the pouring rain. 

“Why the fuck we’re you drinking?” You asked, “arms up” you ordered and he held his arms over his head as you tug off his white shirt that was stuck to his body 

“Cause Mikey killed ‘emself 2 years ago” he hiccuped again “and I was thinkin’bout him and then I thought about if he knew you and uh….” He trailed off watching as you delicately removed his Saint Anthony chain from around his neck, placing it on the counter. 

“And what?” You asked, undoing the button on his jeans and he started to chuckle, shaking his head 

“What was I saying?” He asked “your hands went around my neck  and then near my dick and I just… poof all my thoughts are gone” he said, giggling drunkenly which caused you to laugh at just how adorable he sounded, smiling and speaking about his thoughts so openly was a side you’d never seen of him before. 

“I think it’s time for you to take a bath, because you’re gonna get hypothermia. I’m not touching you tonight, Carmy. Not like that” you told him and he pouted a bit as you tugged his wet jeans down his hips and helped him step out of them so he wouldn’t fall on his face and he huffed. 

“I deserve it. I’m kinda surprised that you opened the window- you’re too good to me” he slurred as you helped him get lowered into the bath and he sighed in relief as the warm water covered his skin, sinking down up to his shoulders and closing his eyes. You gently brushed the wet hair from his eyes, strings of it sticking to his forehead that you carefully slicked back with your nails

“I know, but I missed you too much to ignore you”

Fin

Tag List: @carmenberzattosgf - @daysofyellowroses - @mouseymilkovich - @gallaghersgal - @maggiesarchives - @carmybrainworms - @l4long-winded - @babyspiderling - @southsideserendipity - @djlnkaled

[polin-erospsyche]

Part 2 to my incredibly long reaction to the incredibly short trailer

Part 1

In other news, less dramatic ones, Kanthony are home and they’re bringing with them some much needed order and sense back into the mayhem that is the Bridgerton home and everyone’s happy about it

Yes Anthony, things have been swift. They know. They definitely know the gentleman Colin prised himself on being is long gone, and that he’s compromised Pen and the worst thing is Colin’s not even half apologetic about it. He’s just so pleased with himself? Look at him and his emotional support liquor, he’s li ke « hehehe I did finger her in the back of a carriage, it was wild, I finally know what love is hehe »

El is also hanging out with her emotional support champagne. “Here’s to truly knowing each other, completely” that stings. Also Colin is catching up on the fact that Pen is not being truthful, he’s slowly waking up to all the blatantly obvious clues. Queue to said blatantly obvious clues (also the ring!!!):

The boy is so confused though when she says she’s been writing letters. He’s like “to whom??? I’m right here??? Tell me there’s not another suitor you’ve been secretly seeing” —> actually talking about this do you think that’s how Colin starts to think that he has competition and makes up a completely fictional rival??!

In other news Pen is just there hanging out with a family who finds emotional support in alcohol while she’s just hanging out in her psychological horror show. It’s ok baby, breathe and go tell him. I promise he’ll find it way more appealing than we all thought originally.

Also did I mention I need more horny and domestic Polin??? And they look so good in their new flat??? Like it’s literally their colour. Did Colin really go out there the very next day and was like “I need a blue, green, and yellow flat for the love of my life”?

Ok this is where I start to freak out. First he’s exchanged his emotional support liquor for emotional support tea. So the angst?! I’m gonna need my own emotional support liquor

Also this is so strange to me, he’s in their flat most likely, he’s sitting on the couch. It’s morning so he’s had time to process. Pen (if the shot right after is the same scene) barely dares to go and see him but she also has her hair down and looks to be at home. So are they already living together before they get married? If so the scandal. Or is this ep 8? But there seems to be pillows on that couch too? So did he sleep on the couch? Do we get to see the awkward and fragile state of their relationship, where they’re hurt but their love for each other is still so incredibly deep? If so I will die in the angst ditch that is Polin

And we’re back to lighter stuff, I think this is ep6 so he still had no idea. And just the way she giggles? Oh my heart cannot handle the sweetness.

WHAT AM I GOOD FOR??? So much Colin. You’re worth and count for so much my sweet summer child. Oh hero complex Colin, we love you oh so much. I was dying the whole way through but this is where I perished. THE ANGST. They really need to meet each other midway though. She needs to let him in and he needs to learn that she does not need saving, she needs love and companionship.

Thank you Netflix, I love them ❤️ Polin was getting a bit too real and dramatic for a second there.

[iviorienne]

His loss and ruin.

Angel x sibling reader

๑ | synopsis: after a few years in hell, angel met a certain demon that he thought he could actually trust. Angel did actually fell for him, sadly, kindness nor love was a thing in hell, so he became more ruined and broken. Until a certain gambling demon came for his rescue.

๑ | tw : cursing, panick attack, abuse will be mentioned, blood, gore, death will be also be mentioned.

๑ | a/n : a part two from " my little sunshine " ig? HAHA I just watched HH ep 4 or 5 just right now and it just booster my motivation to write a second part of that one HEHE hope y'all liked it! ~

" My little sunshine "

Master list

After the chaos occured on Valentino's studio and his very first heated argument with husk, angel ran off to a strip club to blow off some steam, but Satan must be hating on him somehow to bring husk to his tail and be his 'little-shining-armor' and caused more chaos.

" husk, what the actual fuck you are doin' here? " angel groaned as he struggled against his hold.

" let go off me! " he tried to pulled his arms back but fails miserably when husk tightened his hold to him and proceeds to push him away from the club.

" no, I'm takin' you back to the hotel. " husks gruff voice grumbled behind him.

" gett- off! " he groaned as he kicked his legs back trying to push him away to his relief, husk finally let go of his arms. Angel dusted off non-existent dust off of himself as husker gave him a frustrated look.

" that fucker put somethin' on yer drink. " angel glared at him.

" you don't think I can't tell when someone spikes my drink?! " he snapped as he run his fingers to his hair " I do this all fuckin' time! " he continues as husk gave him a look of disbelief.

" you just let people drug you all the time? "

More anger and frustration bubbled to angels chest, the bottle is in the verge of exploding.

Angel snapped his body to husks direction as his hands were in front of him, indicating his distress and frustrations.

" you think I ask for it? ! " he snapped, catching husk off guard. " I don't ask any of this shit! "His hands flew above from his head as more of his bottled emotions pour out.

" I didn't ask to be this way. " he turned back to him as husk stared at him.

" I didn't ask for you Charlie to save me, " he pointed at Huskers chest as he stepped away.

" I didn't asked for you to save me. " he pointed more to his chest, there nose were barely touching.

" I can handle myself. " he huffed pointing at himself " really? Because I just see someone self-distructing. " husked snapped back pointing back at angel's chest which angel leaned away. Husker pauses before continuing.

" it's seems like-- " just turned away " I don't know.. " he shook his head. Husker turned back again to face angel as he shrugged awkwardly " it seems like you need a bartender to talk too. " angel laughed at he placed his hand to hide forehead.

" oh, so— " he flew his hands again to his side as he chuckled. " now you're going to act like you give shit about me? " he places one of his hand to his hip.

" you think after how you treated me—" he quirkee a brow a him, pointing at him " I'm going to open up to you? Please. " he huffed as he opens his arms again dramatically as he turned away ready to walk out of this, and this conversation before he breaks more.

" maybe I would treat you better if you you were real, " more anger filled angels nerves as unwanted memories flew back to his mind. From the start where he was alive. Where he was still with you.

Anthony came back home late again with more bruises on his neck, his body was swaying as he stumbled to his steps when his eyes landed on you.

You were seated in front of the door with your arms and legs crossed.

He wondered, why we're yous till awake.

" anth. "

Anthonh breath out before cracking up a wobbly smile as he leaves ok the door frame " heya sunshine. " he shot and finger guns at you, but your expression remains the same and clearly unfazed.

He gulped, " why- why are you still awake? It's in the middle of the night.. " he stumbled up on his step as he walked towards your direction.

" oh I don't know, maybe because I was waiting for my idiot, stupid of a brother to come home and actually eat with me in the nights and sleep together and cuddle like he promised? " you quirked a brow at him as you stand up from your seat.

He gulped once again, " oooh.. " he breathe to his teeth as he sighed and gave you an apologetic look. " I'm sorry sunshine.. For- not being able to eat dinner with you.. It's just- "

" work has been very tougher lately and you/i can't afford to leave early. " you rolled your eyes, perfectly synchronizing with him which he gave you a shock look before letting out a breathless laugh.

" well- wow. " he coughed out.

" anth.. " you sighed frustratedly as you walked towards him " I know you, we're literally siblings. I know you from head to toe and you're like an open book to me. "

You stared up at him with a frown, he looked completely nervous, making you sigh as he averted eye contact again.

" I know when soemthin's up or not, and I can tell that work has not been only tough, but rough for ya too. And don't think I can't see the bruises anth, I can literally see the dried blood on 'yer nose. " you squinted an eye at him which he flinched when you noticed this.

He sighed as he slumped before chuckling.

" I just can't hide anythin' from ya, aight sunshine? "He cocked his head to the side.

" bitch, I've been with your for years, what did ya expect? " you chuckled when you felt a stinging pain on your forehead.

" hey! Language. " he pouted.

" Italian and english? " you sarcastically replied.

" Gesù Cristo, sei una minaccia, " he chuckled as he shook his head ruffling your hair.

" hey! Watch it! I just groomed that! " you groaned. But giggling afterwards, he too started to chuckle as the both of you shared a heart laugh.

Once the both of you calmed down, a soft from were on your face again as you sighed.

" I just don't want'cha to hide things from me anth.. You've been there for me ,and I wanna be there for ya too, so please just cut the act ok? " you dropped your head softly to his chest as you lazily hang your arms around his waist.

" I don't want to see you silently suffer so please, " you tilted your head to meet his troubled face.

" don't be afraid to lend me 'yer troubles ok? "

Angel stared at you for a moment before sighing as he hugged you with his other hand on your head.

" what can I do? I can't say no ta that eyes sugar. " he softly laughed as you smiled brightly at him.

" good, now let's eat! "

Angel felt tears swelled up upon his eyes at the memory as his heart pounded, he the lump of his throat thickens as he listened more to husk.

" and not some bullshit version of yourself, ways pushin' my boundaries. " husks scoffed as he watched angel walked away from him. This grew more frustration for husk.

" lemme tell ya, nobody in that hotel cares who you are! " he snapped as he swung his hand to his side. " how famous, how hot. "

" so you might as well just cut the act. " angel stopped from his tracks. With that single sentence, he finally snapped.

" anth.. We talked a bout this, I told you to not be afraid of lending me your troubles. If I were to loose my life just ta have you to open up then sure I'd fuckin' bet my life on that. " you sighed dramatically as angel shot you a look for swearing but you ignored it " like I've said, I've been with you for years, I can literally see through that mask that you're in trouble. So please just drop the act, ok? "

Your voice rang onto his mind as his mind finally went blank, emotions finally exploding.

" IT'S NOT AN ACT! " he snapped turning around to face husk again, tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. Husk was once again, shocked as he finally see his walls breaking down.

" it's who I need to be.. " he hugged himself as he averted his eyes.

" and this— " his hand flew above his head " this is my escape " escape from everything,escape from val, escape from the memory,the memory of you dying into his arms. He smiled but it was strained and tensed.

" where I can forget about it all! " he turned again stumbling as he leaned into the clubs wall for support. An image of you dead in his arms flashed into his mind again.

" h-how much I hate-! " himself, he hated himself for for not being able to save you from that night. " everything! " he continued.

" a place where I can get high, and not have to think how much it hurts. " he clutched his chest. He wondered, what would you think if you saw him now, would you still care for him? Love him? Would you still see him as an older brother?

" and maybe.. " he pushes himself off of the wall as he places his hands on the side of his head as he looked down on his foot. " I can ruin myself enough in the process, " his hands slowly went limp to his side.

" if I end up broken, I won't be his favorite you any more and.. I wont have to remember that fuckin' night where she died right into my arms. " his voice shook as he shook his head trying to shove away the memory of you slowly going limp into his arms.

Angel sat on the side walk, hugging his legs into his chest.

" and maybe he'll let me go.. And maybe.. And just maybe.. I might get actually redeemed and see her again. "

Husk looked down at the spider demon sadly, he wondered who's she he was talking about. But he figured that it must be someone from the day he was life, deciding not to push it, husk sat down beside him.

Husk sighed heavily as he started, " I was an overload once you know." Husk started. Angel turned his head to look at him to see if he was lying.

Husk met his eyes before smiling awkwardly.

" yeah.. And uh.. " he trailed " it's was nice to have that power, but when your dealing with souls, while Also being a gambler, the stakes are pretty high. And loosing a few more hands can be more than a little dangerous, so when you're down on you luck, you turn into anything to..keep you afloa even making deals yourself. So I know what is like to.. Regret the choices made and.. " he pauses for long before starting again. " knowin' ya can't take it back. " he finishes, a thickening silent envelopes them before angel broke it.

" I..." He trailed as he stared at the puddle infront of him " had a little sister. " husk perked up at the mention of this before turning to look at angel,

' so that was the "she" he was talking about. ' husk thought. He remains silent and listened further.

" she was my everything, my source of light, my little sunshine. " angel smiled sadly, husks eyes widened a little to see him talking so sweety about someone, but it was a relative anyways so of course he'd talk sweetly about it. But it was new to see angel dust being like that.

" our parents were never good, so we eventually ran away from home once I turned 18,she was 16 back then. " he pauses before continuing " her name is Y/N, Y/N is.. Someone ya should not mess with, the girl was like a tiger on loose when mad. " he chuckled dryly " but overall that chaotic personality, she was the sweetest sugar you'd eva' picked, a delicate little flower. " he sighed as he stared into the distance.

" back then, I was very secretive, hidin' my outside doins from her, comin' home late and neva' eaten dinners with her, no cuddles night and such... " he sighed before continuing " she confronted me once about that, but.. I choose to hide things from her again, till one night. I caught myself in a bad deal and stole bunch'a drugs and money.. And that stupidity of mine caused her life. " he tests finally pour into his eyes as he let out a little sob.

" I watched-... Husk i watched her.. Died right in my eyes! " he panted as he turned to the feline who had his eyes wide at the information he was getting. " and.. Right into my arms. " angel hugged himself tighter.

" so that's why.. I did everything.. Everything to ruin myself more.. Just to get that wipe off of my mind, to forget- her hands slowly let go of my hand.. Her eyes running out of life.. That- little sad smile she held even dying. " he cried, shoulders were shaking as he sobbed, husk sighed as he placed a hand ok angels shoulder and pats it.

" everyday.. Everytime, I regretted not coming home early, I regretted not spending enough time with her, I regretted for not listenin' to her.. If I could turn back the time.. If I had a second chance to be with her.. I'll.. I'll be a better brother this time. " he sobbed.

Husk was silent, trying to look a better words to ease up the spider demon, he let out a heavy sigh before smiling lightly.

" well , I never known the gal but.. I'm sure she forgives ya. " he started as he watched angel tears up.

" you did fucked up big time but.. " he pauses as he stand up and walked in front of angel.

" I'm sure the gal still see's you the bestest brother she eva' had. You did took care of her once the both of ya left yer parents house, so the little gal must be waitin for ya up there. " husk smiled at him before holding out his hand, angel smiles before wiping off his tears and accepted his hands pulling himself up.

"... Thanks.. For.. Listening. " angel awkwardly rubbed his arms as husk shrugs.

" told ya you could need a bartender to talk. " the both of them chuckled when the clubs door busted open and saw them.

" THERE THEY ARE, FUCKING GET THEM! "

I'm the heavens, on your room, your hands fiddled with the necklace on your neck as you stared off into the distance.

Suddenly your nose itch making you sneeze, you rubbed your nose as you sniffle groaning a bit.

" to who ever the fuck talkin about me, I hope you bit your tongue. " you groaned.

After the little massacre happened, angel and husker were covered in blood as the two happily walked their way back on the hotel when angel suddenly bit his tongue.

" OW- FUCK-"

[00blue--rain00]

Anthony larusso x fem!reader

Imagine you were mad at anthony and started to think that he was cheating on you, but he wasn't, and..yea HEHE

Warning: ANGST TO FLUFF ✨️💗

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

Anthony pov

I picked up my phone and called y/n. The first time I tried, it went straight to voice-mail. That was really not like her,she always picked my up my phone call or would text me right after a missed call.

"Shit..did I do something." I tried to call y/n agian, but no answer. I sat up from my chair a started to pace around my room.

love ❤️

bb y r u not picking up :(

did I do something wrong..

sorry if I did :( But u need you to talk to me if I did

Read 6:47 pm

so ur gonna leave me on read :( I'm sorry. ｡･(つд`｡)･｡

u know wat u did >:[

WHATD I DOO BB

u should know

but I'd don't bb tell me

bb..bb?

I don't even know what I had done. If I had done something, it would not have been so bad that she was ignoring me. Could it.

Right then, my dad had opened my door "Anthony this is the last time I'm gonna tell you to get off your phone and come eat dinner." "Okay Okay I'm coming." "Right now," I put my phone into my pocket and head down to the stairs

I grabbed a plate and sat down at the table. I checked my phone over and over again, hoping there was a message from y/n. Maybe even a small okay would make me happy. "Anthony, no phone at the table, miguel is coming over for dinner tonight, remember." my mom said with sarcasim in her voice "yea obviously he comes over every week. " Oh, shut up, Anthony." "Sam language," my dad said in a stern voice. I let out a small sigh and checked my phone again. Nothing...

Y/n pov

I know I was being harsh to Anthony, but the reason I was acting like this was because I was jealous, jealous of that dumb little shit Lia. Alright, that was too harsh. She started talking to Anthony right in front of me. I knew she had a crush on kenny, but it still made me jealous. When they were talking, I noticed that they looked straight at me right after they finished, I went up to Anthony, but his friends called him right then and there. He didn't even look back at me.

I put down my phone on the desk and went back to doing my studies, i tried to focus on the paper in front of me, but agian started to lose it. I sighed and leaned back on my seat. I took my headphones and put them on, listening to a random playlist of mine on spotify. "Ughhh." I took if my headphones and opened my phone again. I started texting Anthony.

❤️🐜Ant🐜❤️

wanna come over?...I'll tell you, later

okay, but can't u just tell me over text?

No <(｀^´)>

OK baby...🥲

Be there in 10

Anthony pov

I put my dishes away and saw my phone screen light up. I picked up my phone and saw a message from y/n. She asked if I wanted to come over. WITH NO HESITATION I messaged back with a big old yes. I ran to the door and put my shoes on. "Ant, where you going, buddy?" My dad said. "Oh um, I'm going to y/ns place."i said while putting my shoes on."Okay, just be back by 10" "yep" and open the door and walk out, closing the door behind me. I started walking down the sidewalk that led to y/ns house. I was nervous, what if she breaks up with me. What if she hates me. Was it..nvm.

When I got there, I was out of breath from running so fast. I put my hands on her hips and picked up rock, and threw it at her window to get her attention. I saw her shadow appearing through the curtains. She opened them and lifted her window. "Hii bb," I say with a large Ginn on my face. She leaned on the window seal and sighed. "Can you open the door, please?" "Yea. Yea, I'm on it"

She opened the door and took my hand in hers, and pulled me into the house. I closed the door right after she did that. "So what do you wanna talk about, hm?" "What was you and Lia talking about?" I straightened by back and right after those words came out of her lips. When she said that, she looked away from me and crossed her arms. "Baby, you know I would never do anything like that to you." I lifted her chin to look up at me. [Rizz 😏] she sighed a bit before day something. "I-i knew I just guys. I got insecure, but you still haven't answered my question." I put my hand back by my side and looked down at my feet."You know how..it's yourrr birthday in a couple of days." she looked up at me and slimed a bit. "Oh.. sorry for thinking you were..cheating. " I pulled in a hug and kissed the crown of her head. " it's okay. Your mines and I'm yours. " There was a bit of silence in between us before she said something "always.." she said in a quiet voice.

"Always"

A/N I actually don't know where this went bro like 😐 yea, I hope you enjoyed it because it's my FIRST, lol 😆

Okay..bye

[notthatalex]

A trend I noticed in the spt video is, that they picked fics that were VERY removed from then as people. And I am glad they did!

1. Mine. Obviously. Completely removed. There are no connections to Ian and Amanda at all, other than they are the actors. The most clean-cut case

2. The fantasy Courtney/Angela one. AU! Extreme AU (in the sense that it is very far removed from our reality)

3. The love is blind fic. It's the shayne and chanse from that video. Which was simultaneously them, but also characters.

4. The Chosen Baby fic based on Courtney's Sims characters. It's the only fic I actually read before, precisely because I felt it was so removed, that you wouldn't call it rpf anymore (grey area ig). Also because, like, baby Chosen. Of course, I had to read that when I saw it on Ao3.

5. The IanAnthony one. This one is the least removed. It's still an AU tho, but like not to the extreme of the other rpf fics in the video. But Anthony wasn't there, so it created another layer of abstraction.

Makes a lot of sense they went that route, would have been a bad decision for all parties involved if they didn't. haha.

Could have went horribly wrong, glad it didn't.

Also I am still dying at all the nice remarks people are making about my fic hehe

[lydiimae]

Jealousy

A.N: OMG I am finally starting this blog. I am so so excited. This is a Benedict Bridgerton fic ofc. The true loml. I'm still debating if I will write only Bridgerton orrrrrr others? I dunno... but for now, here is a lovely, smutty, cutie, Ben fic hehe <3

Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, drinking, dirty talk, heavy praise, talk of public heavy petting ;)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Minors DNI!! 18+

He sighs from beside Eloise, shifting on the picnic blanket for what has to be the millionth time. "Brother, you worry too much about that woman." She mutters with an amused glint in her eye, taking a bite of one of the strawberry tarts the family maids had made for the occasion.

A family picnic was not a rarity during the social season, especially for the Bridgerton's. What was a rarity is that Benedict had invited a woman along, an incredibly important woman at that. Y/N L/N, a daughter of an influential Viscount. The woman he found himself to be head over heels in love with.

"I am not worried. I am merely observing so our brother does not make a fool of himself in front of her." He replies with a huff, taking a sip from his flask before tucking it back into his pocket.

You were merely speaking with his brother. His happily married older brother. He has no reason to be jealous, really, but something in him still tugs painfully at the sight of you speaking to another man. It is only when Kate comes to steal her husband away that you scootch back over to him, a bright smile on your face.

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

You move back over to Benedict and look up at his cute pouty expression, smiling at the warmth that blooms in your chest as a result.

You wished to get to know his family before the inevitable happens. Marriage. You know, as well as he does, that you were both going to tie the knot as soon as it was acceptable to do so. You also know that he would scoop you up and marry you tomorrow if he had his way.

At the very first ball of the season, Lady Danbury insisted that she had someone for you to meet. Someone who enjoyed painting just as much as you did. So, she took your arm and led you away from your father to the Bridgerton family. You were confused, at first, when the already happily married Viscount, Anthony, turned to greet you. And then, as if the sea was parting, he appeared. A crooked grin on his face as he moved to see you. Benedict Bridgerton, although he is a second son, stole your heart as soon as you saw him.

From then on you waited with bated breath for every dance you would share, dreamt of him in your bedroom when you got home, and thought of nothing but him in between. You shared stolen glances at every event and even snuck off to any hidden corner or garden you could find for breathless kisses and entirely impolite words that sent your mind into a whirlwind you could not explain.

Soon enough, he started inviting you on promanades and even sooner he wished for you to dine with his family. Get to know his life outside of the stuffy ballroom, to which you found yourself falling even deeper in love than you could've ever imagined.

"You're pouting, Ben." You hum, taking a sip of your lemonade with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Indeed. Perhaps if you were not so caught up with my brother I would not have a reason to pout, hm?" He returns, moving to take another sip from his flask.

He was jealous? Of his married brother? You sigh and move your hand over his, shaking your head slightly. You hand him a glass of lemonade. If he truly is jealous, the last thing he needs is whiskey.

"If you truly wish to hear what we were talking about, I shall tell you." You return as he takes a sip of the lemonade you gave him. He moves his hand over yours, just out of sight of his family. A possessive gesture that makes your heart flutter.

"Yes, in fact, do enlighten me." He grumbles with a sigh. "His wife, Benedict. He was talking about his lovely wife, which if you have forgotten, happens to be my dear friend." You sigh, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He looks over at you, his green eyes sweeping down to your lips, then your chest, before finally looking back up. "I care not of what you were speaking about, I should like you to speak with me when it is I who invited you." He practically growls, the tone of his voice making the place between your legs heat up and dampen instantly. A feeling that only happened with him, something he had explained as both desire and arousal.

"You know that I-" You begin, but are cut off by him pulling you to your feet. The glasses of lemonade are now completely forgotten. "Mother, I should like to promenade with Lady Y/N." He fibs.

What he would really like to do is rip the skirt of your dress open, spread your legs wide, and plunge his cock so deep inside of your soaked cunt that you forget everything else. He wants to paint your insides with his seed right here, in front of the whole ton, so that every man can get a glimpse of who you truly belong to.

"Of course, dear. We shall not keep you." Violet replies with a smile before delving back into conversation with Eloise, who also looks up with a confused expression but quickly rolls her eyes and continues to speak to her mother.

You shoot him a questioning look to which he just raises an eyebrow and offers his arm. You take it and he begins to lead you away from the picnic canopies that many families have set up to dine under.

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

"Where are we going?" You question after a moment, realizing that you are not following the path around the lake but rather the path to the carriages.

He stops and tugs you behind a tree, pushing you up against the trunk. The bark bites into the little exposed skin the back of your dress grants you and your cunt flutters when you see his expression.

Desire is different for men, he taught you. You can see it in the way his trousers tighten at the front and in the way his eyes haze over. His hands move to your waist and he bends down, pressing kisses all the way up your neck until he reaches your ear.

"Agree to marry me and I shall show you." He whispers, biting the soft flesh beneath your ear causing you to shiver and whine. He grins and licks over the tender skin, soothing the sting.

"You already know very well that I would say yes to any proposal you give me." You breathe, leaning your head back as your eyes flutter shut. His hand skates over your stomach, running up the smooth fabric of your dress until he meets your breast. He cups one and swipes his thumb over your hardened nipple through the fabric.

He pulls away, swiping the saliva off his bottom lip with his thumb before picking you up. You squeal and he chuckles, paying the driver of his carriage off before tucking you inside. He closes the door and the curtains on the window, darkness enclosing the both of you.

"Benedict." You whisper as he lays you back on the velvety bench. "Hush, my love. I shall not do anything before asking I swear it." The title makes your heart almost burst out of your chest. He dips down once more, pressing his lips to yours briefly.

You pull him back down before he gets very far, chasing one of those open-mouthed kisses he gave you at the last ball. He groans, his tongue swiping over yours. He grins over your lips at the sound that escapes, moving his hands to yours where they rest on his chest before breaking the kiss.

"Ben please." You whine, wanting him to continue so desperately. He only smiles, taking off your gloves. "You must have patience, my sweet girl. I am going to ravish you in due time." He assures, pressing soft kisses from your palm all the way up to your shoulder as he takes off his gloves as well.

He reaches your neck, to which he takes a deep breath. Taking in your scent of lavender and citrus, making him groan as it always does. "Do you remember when I taught you to ride my thigh?" He whispers, running his tongue down to your collarbone, nipping the skin.

The memory makes you flood your underwear. You remember well, how could you not? He had lead you to the garden at one of Lady Danbury's balls and sat you down on his lap on the edge of the fountain. He hiked up your skirt and led your hips back and forth until something inside of you snapped so hard you saw stars and stained his trousers. That is where he taught you about his arousal, about yours.

"Yes." You breathe, your eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands moves under your skirt. His slender fingers skating teasingly up your thigh. "Good girl." He praises. He cups your cunt without warning and you cry out, your hips canting.

"Fuck. You are absolutely drenched." He whispers, relishing in the moans he draws from your body just from keeping a hand over your cunt. "And I told you about sex, do you remember that darling?" He murmurs, watching your eyes flutter.

He slowly pushes your skirt up so he can slide off your panties. He tucks them into his pocket, smiling to himself. "Yesss." You moan as the air hits your bare sex. "You told me it happens when we get married." You whisper between whines as his hand comes back, his fingers curling into your pubic hair.

"Such a good listener. So good for me." He praises, sliding two of his fingers along your drenched slit before finding your clit with expert touch. He rubs a slow circle on your button and you moan loudly, throwing your head back. "Now, when a man has honor he waits to take a woman's innocence. But my honor disappeared when I saw you with my brother," You try and protest but he pinches your clit and you cry out before you can get so much as a whisper out.

"So I will take you now. In this damn carriage." He growls, moving his free hand to your hips to hold you down. You whine when his fingers move down. "Fuck you are perfect," He breathes. "I'm going to slide one of my fingers inside now, darling, alright?" He murmurs, the switch from possessive to sweet sending your mind reeling. So overwhelmed, so mindless Just how he likes you.

You nod tentatively, your heart rate spiking which he picks up on. He shifts so he is over you, and kisses the crown of your head. "I'll go slow, hm? Nice and slow. All you need to do is pat my arm twice and I'll stop." He assures, calming your heart. You nod and nuzzle his neck.

He slowly plunges a long finger into your weeping cunt and you whine at the invasion. "Good girl, fuck you are so tight." You gasp and writhe as he curls his finger, the feeling sending a shock straight to your clit. He slowly adds another finger and you moan loudly, your eyes rolling back.

"Ben... so good. Feels...." You cry out when his fingers curl into a spot that sends waves of pleasure through you. He grins and begins to rock his fingers, drawing heavenly noises from your soaked cunt. The carriage filled with the sound of your moans and the squelching of your pussy.

He licks a stripe up your neck, beginning to suck as he rocks his fingers. You curl a hand in his thick curls and tug, your hips desperately trying to move against the palm of his hand.

He kisses your jaw, and then your chin, before finally capturing your lips. His tongue immediately sliding past your swollen lips and tangling with yours. You moan into his mouth as his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, moving clockwise as he rocks his fingers into your body.

He breaks the kiss and pulls out his fingers, much to your dismay, before unbuttoning his trousers. "Benedict... why did you stop? It felt so very nice..." You whine, grinding on nothing to try and gain some sort of feeling.

He groans at the sight, bending down and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "My harlot of a fiancee. So needy for something she does not even know the half of." He praises as he slowly frees his cock, the sight along with his filthy words making you gasp.

He pulls back and strokes himself with the help of your delicious wetness, before looking back at your sweet face. All flushed and wide-eyed. He moves his free hand to your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

"It will not fit, Benny." You whisper, suddenly frightened. His eyes soften and he moves down pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "It will, my love. We will go slow, I promise. Remember what I told you, two pats on my arm and we will stop." He hums, peppering your face with kisses which causes you to giggle and calm a bit. "Perhaps one pat for apprehension, hm?" He murmurs with a smile, pulling back. You nod.

"Good girl." He hums. He leans in and runs his length through your soaked folds drawing moans from the both of you. "Fuck. God, I love you." He grunts and you smile, draping your arms over your eyes to cover your blush. "I love you too, Benedict." You whisper back.

He slowly pushes into your body, throwing his head back at how tight your pretty pussy is. You cry out at the invasion, your hands shooting down to grasp at the edges of the carriage bench. The feeling is a strange mix of pain and something different. A tart taste on your tongue paired with a tingly feeling in your already hot womb. "Fucking hell." He groans before tucking his face in the crook of your neck, stopping halfway so you can adjust.

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck after a moment. "P-Please..... more. I need more, Benedict." You gasp after the pain subsides. God, he almost comes right there. He wants you like this all the time, mindless for his cock. Begging him to fuck you.

"Good fucking girl, Y/N." He grunts before bottoming out inside of you. You moan and toss your head back into the seat cushion and he groans at the feeling. "You feel so good, my love. So ripe, so wet. God, so very tight just for me." He praises.

He begins to move slowly, the slap of thighs meeting thighs filling the carriage. The feeling is so foreign but fuck you never want it to stop. Moans and whines slip past your lips before you can even begin to try and stop them, and you cry out as he speeds up. The noises he is drawing from your body would embarrass you if you didn't adore the way he feels inside of you to the point that you can think of nothing else. You wish to be like this as much as you can, full to the brim with his cock.

"Benedict." You moan and he stalls, gritting his teeth. "Never ever stop moaning my name, you vixen. God, I am a lucky man. The luckiest man in the world." He praises you as he begins to slam into you.

You grip his coat so hard you are surprised the velvety fabric hasn't torn. You cry out when his thumb finds your clit, the feeling sending you up to the clouds. "Come for me, my love." He grunts from above you with a slight slap on your thigh. That sends you over, your vision going white as you scream his name.

He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and pumping himself. He releases with a groan onto your stocking-covered thigh before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he lifts his head to look at you, brushing your fallen hair out of your face. You smile, almost drunkenly, as you look at him. "That was heavenly." You whisper and he smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Just wait until we are married. I cannot wait to fill you with my seed and see you plump with my child." He murmurs. resting his head back on your shoulder. Your hand absentmindedly finds his hair, running through his messy curls.

"We have to go back." You whisper to which he shakes his head. "Not yet. I paid off the driver. We have as much time to rest as we wish, dearest." He hums, his eyes closed. You grin and close yours as well, slowly dozing off with him.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with Invisible string, where they're neighbours for years, and used to play together as children. When Lucy joins the agency, she becomes friends with the reader, so the reader starts to be more around their house. Then Anthony starts interacting with her more, and they become friends, but Anthony realises his falling for her, so he starts to become awkward and shy around her she notices it and confronts him about it, then he confesses.

Invisible String - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: fluffy fluffy, though there is like the baaarest hint of angst which is kind of brief as long as you dont dwell on it too long + most of it gets resolved hehe and its made up for in the happy happy ending! yay!! personally i imagine the song she's humming at the piano to be invisible string heheh wc 5.4k

Lucy is waiting by their garden gate impatiently. They weren't running late for their job, but it was chilly out and she wanted to get in a cab before it got much colder. Lockwood walks out soon enough, holding a letter, but he walks to the fence rather than the gate. Over the fence, there's a girl pulling on her gloves as she walks towards her own gate, but Lockwood waves her over.

"What's this? Another lawsuit?"

"Not for me, at least. Our mail got mixed up again."

"Ah. Thanks."

They talk about their week for a while. Lucy watches Lockwood's polished exterior melt as his body language becomes more casual and fluid. The girl pockets the letter and the two of them look at each other for a while. He lamely gestures to her outfit.

"You look nice. Going on a date?"

"Yeah, with this guy in my pottery class."

"That sounds nice. Have fun."

"Thanks. You stay safe."

"I'll try."

Lucy walks over, looking at Lockwood meaningfully while he stiffens reflexively. "Who's your friend?"

"We're just neighbours." The girl smiles pleasantly, but Lucy doesn't miss the way he carefully watches her. They introduce themselves to each other. They chat a little, and Lucy picks up on her good-natured teasing of Lockwood appreciatively.

"So you must have known Lockwood for a while now, right?"

"Try ever since I was born. Our parents got on so well that we used to have dinner together every other day. And that was excluding brunch on the weekends. Trust me, I've had enough playdates with him to last a lifetime."

"Lockwood! You've never mentioned her, not even once."

"Well, to be fair, that was all years ago. We've been a little busy for the, um, last decade or so." There's a silence.

"Oh, there was that summer..."

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"That had been nice."

An uncomfortable prickling accompanies the silence this time. She finishes fiddling with her gloves and looks ready to walk away, but Lucy recognises the suppressed look in Lockwood's eyes and tries to salvage the situation.

"You should come over sometime. We're doing some spring cleaning tomorrow, if you want to join."

"Luce. Let's not burden Y/N with chores."

"No, no, that sounds nice. I'd love to help. Though Lockwood never struck me as the spring-cleaning type."

"He's being coerced. We're holding his favourite rapier hostage."

Her lips twitch as she slices the envelope open. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your job. Be careful. Mum sends her love." She says the last part more to Lockwood, who smiles with a warmth Lucy had seen little of. He watches her walk out, skimming the letter, and it isn't until George joins them that he looks away.

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

Their case is so exhausting and Holly piles so much work on him the next morning that he forgets that she's coming over. It isn't even until the afternoon that he realises she's there at all, when looking for someone to help him rip the stitches off some old curtains. He walks into one of the spare rooms, calling out for George, but he stops short when he sees an unfamiliar figure standing on the bed, peeling posters off the wall. She glances behind and he suddenly remembers the events of last evening.

"Oh - Y/N. Hello. Have you seen the others lately?"

"Lucy went out to get another scraper and I think George went down to the Archives. Holly just left for the post office."

"Oh. I see. Er, do you need help?" She turns around from the poster she was steadily peeling off, dropping it into the pile with satisfaction.

"Nope, that was last of them. Anything I can help you with?"

He hesitates, and she picks up on it.

"Lockwood, I don't have anything to do until Lucy comes home anyway. I don't mind, really."

He relents and she agrees to help immediately, poising to step off the bed. She pauses before making the step, looking at the floor nervously.

"...need help getting down?"

"No. Just...give me a minute." She tries to hold onto the bed's headboard but still suffers from some internal struggle in stepping down. The image triggers a decade-old dormant memory in him, of the time she had slipped from the picnic tabletop in her garden and twisted her ankle. Instinctively, he holds out a hand, which she grabs thankfully and is down so quick he doesn't even realise until she pulls her hand away. The feel of her fully-grown hand in his is a jarring yank back to the present.

"Still so afraid of heights?"

She shudders. "My ankle still twinges if I so much as think of making a small leap. Now, where are those curtains?"

They decide to occupy the couch in the living room, and it's a bit of a tight squeeze with the piles of linens towering around them, but they manage.

"So you take the seam ripper, like so," Lockwood fumbles with the comically small seam ripper but somehow slots it under a tiny stitch, "and you rip the seam. Just like that."

She rips the stitch on her curtain with greater efficiency than him. He looks mildly startled. She glances at the pile of curtains next to her, and then the one next to Lockwood.

"Looks like I'll be done with my pile first."

There's a pause as Lockwood processes her words and the glimmer of competition in her eyes, and then they both leap into action, tugging down yards and yards of fabric, painstakingly unravelling the seams stitch by stitch. It doesn't take long for them to start playing dirty. She tries to block Lockwood's vision by flapping the dusty curtains at him and he tries to slow her down by holding her curtains down. But by the time the rest return, they're too engrossed to sabotage each other so that Lucy finds them sitting in some weird contorted manner, ripping seams feverishly.

"I was only gone two hours! Both of you've done all that?"

She tries to shush Lucy, already feeling herself slow down as she tries to free up enough mental capacity to answer. She feels rather than hears Lockwood giggle in delight as he picks up his pace. Lucy shakes her head, walking out to the kitchen.

"Find me when you're done, I'm having tea." She groans, heavily enticed by the suggestion of biscuits and sweet tea after an afternoon of stringing her fingers to bits.

"Wait, wait, truce please, I want tea."

Lockwood reluctantly lets up, stretching under the sea of curtains around them. They part ways for the evening, taking breaks or helping out with other smaller projects, but they reconvene after dinner, though with significantly less fervour.

An hour or two past midnight, once his neck had started to ache too much, he looks over at Y/N, and realises she's fast asleep. He moves to shake her awake, but she looks so peaceful and alarmingly similar to the little girl he remembered her as that it gives him pause. Lockwood wasn't one for sentimental doting, but it felt nice to have a piece of his long-forgotten childhood in his home again, safe and warm.

He makes a quiet phone call to her parents before fetching a blanket for her. That night, the childhood memories he falls asleep to are warm and happy.

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

Lucy wakes up from her nap in a delightfully warm haze. The house is quiet, likely because of everyone staying up late the previous night. She shuffles to the kitchen, but pauses when she hears a curious sound echoing in the hallway. She blearily follows it to the living room, where she sees Y/N and Lockwood sitting opposite each other at the coffee table, playing poker. She seemed to be trying her best to stop giggling, yet failing, while Lockwood berated her.

"Your poker face sucks, Y/N. I know more about your cards than I do mine."

She shakes with silent laughter, covering her face with her cards ashamedly as Lockwood joins in with the laughing. It's a weirdly surreal sight to see. Everntually, Lockwood's eye drifts and he spots Lucy standing in the doorway.

"Luce. Have a good nap?" Lucy grumbles some incoherent reply, pulling a biscuit out of the biscuit tin. She sits down and watches them shriek at each other (Lockwood was right, her poker face was downright terrible) as they finish the game, and Lucy can't help but smile over the idiots.

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

"Where's Y/N?"

The first words out of Lockwood's mouth the next morning were arguably his most poorly-chosen yet, especially without any buffer from the relentless mocking of Lucy and George. One of them alone was bad enough, but with both of them joining forces, it made for a very weary breakfast.

"Cool it, she's my friend. Get your own."

"Then what does that make us, if not friends?"

"Neighbours." Lucy smiles innocently as Lockwood throws a dish towel at her.

The rest of breakfast passes up uneventfully, which makes the incident the first thing out of Lucy's mouth as soon as she steps through the door.

"Morning!"

"Lockwood missed you at breakfast this morning."

"Did not."

Between Lucy's smirk and Lockwood sullenly hiding in the shadowed hallway, she wasn't sure what to start with.

"Did too, he so wanted you to be there."

Lucy turns to Lockwood, daring him to contradict her. Holly steps out of the kitchen, straightening her pinafore, but doesn't pick up on the tension so she just smiles. His eyes dart between the three of them and some part of his body decides that panic is the best reaction of choice.

"DEPRAC wants to steal my papers," he says as some odd form of explanation, before disappearing into his room. Lucy snorts while Holly and her share a puzzled look.

"I think he's talking about our case report."

Whatever it was, it was being tucked away into his coat when she ran into him at the front door about ten minutes later. His smile is part grimace.

"Sorry about earlier." He stops talking, but looks like he wants to say more, so she patiently hovers. "About breakfast - I just feel bad for doing all this free labour, breakfast is the least I could offer-"

"Don't sweat it, I'm fine."

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if you popped by for a bun every now and then."

Her lips twitch. "Maybe I will."

There's a concerned look in his eye and his gaze that lasts a little too long to be comfortable, and it reminds her of the last time he looked at her like that. It had been near the tail end of the summer a few years back, late at night. She had been crying something awful on her front porch after a certain Noah Lewis had dumped her, and he was neighbourly enough to play a good samaritan in talking her through it.

It had started with a lot of unrestrained swearing and dragging of Noah Lewis' name through the mud as soon as she walked through the front gate, the kind that made her father peer out the window in alarm and then disappear back into the house. After a good quarter of an hour of this, her rage faded along with her energy, and she ended up crying embarrassingly on Lockwood's shoulder. "That's it," she had sobbed into his soft, forest green sweater that smelled like clean cotton. "I'm done with dating. It's the single life for me from now on." What flimsy grip she had managed over her emotions started to slip once more, as she burst into a new set of wails.

"Oh God, I'm going to die alone!" Lockwood rubbed comforting circles on her back as she clutched him tighter.

Looking back, she understood the smile on his face a little better, though a part of her still wanted to stay peeved at him for laughing at her misery. At least he had the decency to cold-shoulder Noah when he came around a few days later.

The memory occupies the back of her mind for the rest of the day, and it's still there when Lockwood returns. She doesn't realise it, but it makes her soften around him, though not noticeably so. By then, they've cleared up enough of the house to uncover the piano tucked away in the basement. Holly had spent the afternoon lovingly tuning it and polishing it up, but no one else seemed much interested in it.

After dinner, she sees Lockwood sitting at the piano, watching the keys as if he's too afraid to touch them. She joins him at the bench, taking in the sight of the glossy keys she could barely hear being played from her room when she was a child. Maybe that's what she's thinking about when she asks him to play something for her, and he obliges.

He plays a short piece that isn't extremely elaborate by any means, but it's beautiful and makes her want to rest her head on his shoulder. When he finishes, there's a short silence, and she tells him it was beautiful. She feels him smile against her head. Her fingers meander over the keys and she plays the occasional note as she hums some tune tucked away in the recesses of her mind. He picks up on it after a while, playing a more complete accompaniment to her stilted humming. She tilts her head where it rests on his shoulder to look at his face, and his hand slips on the note. She wishes to stay there forever.

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

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey." The last one was from Lucy, and it earned her a reproving glare and there was this silent yet intense communication between the girls. It's the next day, and now they've started on the library, sifting through the masses of newspapers dating well back into the past century. Lockwood had just returned from helping George at the archives (all the dust and cleaning was making his allergies act up so he wasn't at peak performance, as much as hated to admit it). She finally looks away from Lucy with the air of washing her hands of her, looking up at a forgotten Lockwood.

"Your coat collar's turned up."

"He does that to look cool. And because you're here. Dunno if you've noticed, Lockwood, but the coat hanger's by the door."

"Ha-ha. I'm leaving for Satchell's soon. Just...wanted to see how you were getting on."

"Wanted to see how Y/N was getting on."

"No, no." But his voice is a little too high-pitched to be fully convincing, and Lucy bursts out laughing, and his annoyance evaporates his nervousness. "Just making sure you haven't bullied her to tears, Luce."

"I've been such an angel."

She traces the outline of Lockwood's coat with her gaze fondly. "I remember the morning you bought it." She leans conspiratorially towards Lucy. "Preened in front of me for a good ten minutes, shifting his weight around to look cool. He only stopped when he heard my dad coming out to get the paper."

"That's awfully patient of you. George and I just try to suffocate him when he gets too unbearable."

"Are - are you hearing this? Admission of assault."

'Oh hush, you big baby."

She smiles as she watches them bicker. Lockwood clutches his chest with an exaggeratedly injured look, and their eyes briefly meet. He looks away first.

"What can I say? When you're stuck with this...peacock of a neighbour, you're bound to be forced into being an adoring audience on more than one occasion. Comes in and disrupts my peaceful mornings."

"Someone had to appreciate it, and you're always up at the crack of dawn."

"So are you, but you don't sleep so it doesn't count."

Lockwood lets out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. Lucy's eyes look like they're about to fall out of her head.

"Sue me for wanting to share first thing I bought with my hard-earned money with someone."

She chokes on her breath, barely holding herself back from a fit of giggles. Lucy looks as though Christmas had come early.

"Lockwood had a job? Like, a proper one?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it a job so much as a cosplay of being working class. But yes, he manned a frozen yogurt cart in the park a few summers back. First and last time i've seen him willingly sit out in the sun."

"Oh, please, at least I didn't spend my days making eyes at Noah Lewis."

She shrugs in mock ignorance in a way that Lockwood can't help but match her smile. For a while the only sounds that could be heard were of the girls shifting through the newspaper with inky fingertips, until Lockwood finally gets up to leave for the client meeting.

It's an uneventful trip and consultation, but looks promising enough in terms of commission. It's tedious enough to make him peckish for a mid-morning snack. When he returns, he walks into the kitchen to sneak a biscuit and finds her fiddling near the stove.

"Oh, hi. Lucy and I wanted some tea but I'm not quite sure I know how your kettle works..."

He fiddles with the plug a little, twisting the wire in ways that make her concerned for his safety, but eventually they hear the kettle hum cheerfully, and they silently wait for the water to boil. She fidgets, trying to make small talk.

"How's George's room coming along?"

"I told him to pick out his favourite biohazards. The rest would have to go."

The kettle starts to crackle louder now. She eyes it apprehensively but Lockwood doesn't seem to even register it.

"House looks...pretty much the same."

"Yeah."

"I like it."

"Thank you. But I'm glad we're doing this. The spring cleaning, I mean. Sometimes I wonder if it's too crowded."

"I like it. I think it's crowded with life."

He gives her a soft smile and when he looks at her, he's not as quick to look away as before. But then he remembers her outing last evening and carefully broaches the subject. After all, it had been a while since they talked about things like this, and she was by no means obligated to, but he tried.

"How was your...date?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. It was alright. He's a nice guy. Patient. Down-to-earth Unlike someone I could mention."

Her teasing smile is back, and Lockwood feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His features contract into a familiar melodramatic expression.

"I'm sorry I disrupted so many peaceful mornings."

A smile slides back onto his face as she scoffs and gives him a shove. "Very funny. You were plenty insufferable before your friends came along. You're lucky I wasn't as creative as them."

"Mm, so grateful."

More silence. "They seem nice, George and Lucy. I see why you spend so much time with them."

And not so much with me, she wanted to add, but she didn't want to cause unnecessary strife, so she just focused on keeping her tone light. But Lockwood still picked up on the subtle edge of bitternes.

"I thought you...moved on to other things in life. You don't stop to chat by the fence much anymore."

"You got so busy with your agency business. I didn't want to impose."

She glances at Lockwood's genuinely puzzled expression, his lips barely parted as she saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to reconcile the idea of their chats being an imposition. She feels awkward in a way she's never felt with him, even when it was just the fence in between the two of them. They went from close, to distant, to kind of close again for that one summer they were 16, and now...now she wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I...I didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well...you can say hi more often. Or bye. If you wanted to." It was stupid; she knew she was being childish but she couldn't help it. Something still smarted inside of her when she saw the three of them traipsing off most nights, something she didn't quite understand.

"I always want to."

"Lockwood? You better not be withholding tea."

They get startled by Lucy's voice and take a step back. Lockwood fumbles as he pulls off the top of the cottage-shaped container, scooping out piles of teabags. "Look, plenty of tea. All the tea. Please don't tell Lucy."

She shakes her head, bemused, pouring water into their mugs just as Lucy walks in, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Lockwood. Luckily, she gets distracted quickly enough and starts dumping sugar into her mug. She watches Lucy for a while until Lockwood fold his jacket over his arm, brushing her shoulder as he walks past.

"Hm?"

He stops by the door to the kitchen, a familiar easy smile on his face. He looks like home.

"Bye."

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

"Why do you call him Lockwood? Surely you knew him when he was 'Anthony,' or - or was it 'Big A'? Please tell me it was 'Big A.'"

She had started to become a regular visitor at the breakfast table, which meant more time for Lucy to spend interrogating her on everything and anything about Lockwood. Even George had joined in briefly; it was too good of an opportunity to pass up for an enigma like Lockwood. All the while, he anxiously flitted around, on guard to brush off anything too incriminating.

He carries the kettle away, mildly peeved. "I think that's enough tea for you, Luce." Lucy makes a face behind his back and the girls share a muffled laugh.

"Oh, he hasn't been Anthony for ages." She smiles briefly, but gives Lucy's hand an intentional squeeze, her eyes asking Lucy to not press it. She doesn't realise how Lockwood has suddenly become much more interested in the paper only because she too is avoiding eye contact.

She remembers it like it was yesterday. Her parents had done their best to help Lockwood, but there was only so much they could legally do (not that it stopped her mother from sniffing disapprovingly at every inept social worker that walked up the garden path). It had been after Jessica's funeral, and for once they were both on the same side of the fence: sitting on the steps to the porch. He was wearing a suit that was a bit too big for him, not unlike his daily attire now, and the smell of burnt rubber hung in the air.

"I don't think I want to be Anthony anymore."

It was a decision that never confused her, not even for a minute. Anyone would have needed a reconstruction of identity after going through such traumatic experiences at an age as young as his. Adjusting to the change had been surprisingly smooth too; he didn't look much like Anthony after that day either. But it was bone-deep agony to watch time drip by, like lazy honey, and only being able to hope that he was getting happier.

Lucy picks up on the hint and starts asking George about the rooms they need to tackle today. Meanwhile, she walks past the kitchen window, nearly bumping into Lockwood. They breathe a reflexive apology and laugh lightly. Her eyes land on the angry red cut on his forehead.

"How's the-?"

"Oh, it's fine. Just a scrape. I've had worse."

"Aw, you poor baby."

Lockwood laughs weakly as she gently tugs at the skin near the cut, which at least seemed to be better than the previous night. When looks away she notices the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. She frowns at the slightly ajar window, closing it firmly. There still was a chill in the air from the frost that hadn't completely melted away yet.

True to his word, Lockwood comes home with a broken wrist a few days later. George is rather miffed and Lockwood insists that he's making it sound worse than it actually was, but that doesn't stop her from wincing when George claims he heard the snap of his bone from the floor below. Despite Lucy's insistence that he had survived much worse, she can't help but fret over him a little.

"I can pour my soup myself, you know."

"Yes, yes, you're a big strong man who needs no help. Now go sit down, I'll bring your toast." It might have been more convincing if she hadn't been absent-mindedly muttering, or even without the pat on his head, but he still took his seat at the table, not entirely unhappy. George had managed to wrestle him into his bed in the afternoon and his body finally succumbed to the beckoning of sleep, making him sleep through dinner. It was just the two of them in the kitchen, one anxiously watching the other sip their soup.

"Really, you didn't need to do this. It's no trouble on my wrist."

"Lockwood, the doctor said not to put any pressure on it. It is, by definition, trouble on your wrist."

He sighs, frowning at how she worries her bottom lip. "You're not...doing this out of guilt, or something, are you?"

She opens her mouth to deny it, to say how preposterous such a suggestion is, but her protests die on her lips. She takes a shaky breath.

"I was thinking about the days after...you know. How exhausted and lonely you must have been. How I didn't care enough to visit you more, to even cross that fence, unless it was to come running to you with my own silly problems."

"Y/N," he looks like he wants to smile but is trying not to for the benefit of the situation, and it rubs salt in her wound. "Of course you cared. You were just a kid, acting like kids do."

"I yelled at you about Noah when I was 16. 16."

"And I appreciated it. You gave me something more normal to be mad about. You made me feel like a teenager again." He reaches out and covers her hand with his uninjured one. "And I don't ever want you feeling like any of your problems is too tiny or insignificant to bother me with. I'm your neighbour, what else am I good for?"

She gives him a watery smile, feeling the tension that had been bunching around her temples all afternoon start to dissolve. He always knew just what to say, the ointment to every wound and scratch. He made it easier to live, easier to breathe.

"Wait, where's Lockwood?"

"Going down to Arif's."

"With a broken wrist?"

"He still has his left hand!" Lucy calls after her, but she's too busy scrambling for a pair of mittens and hurrying to the front door. Luckily, she catches him just as he's about to head out, and a smile cracks open on his face when he sees her.

"Everything alright?"

"You forgot your mittens."

He eyes the patterned woollens in her hands. "Y/N. I haven't worn mittens since I was...six, maybe."

"Obviously, since that's about how long they've been collecting dust in your old coat - which, by the way, is in no shape for the Salvation Army. You didn't set it on fire, did you?"

"Look, when it comes to fires, I may have an affinity for them but not necessa-"

"Fine. Just wear the mittens."

"I'll only be a minute! What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, yes, because a cold is exactly what you need on top of a snapped wrist and cut." She holds the mittens out expectantly, and he reluctantly takes them. They spend a few awkward minutes trying to figure out how to get them on without his cast getting in the way, and Lockwood nearly drops them when he gets startled by the brush of her fingertips on his palm, until she decisively puts them on his hands herself. When she looks up, his ears are tinged red again, as well as his nose.

"See, you're already getting cold. Are you sure I can't go to Arif's for you?"

They hear a scoff from behind, and turn to see George watching them. She looks at him questioningly but he ambles past her to the kitchen, muttering words under his breath she couldn't quite understand. Lockwood takes advantage of the pause in her fussing and steps out before she can continue protesting, but the sight of the mittens securely pulled over his fingers gives her some relief.

George turns his snigger into a poorly concealed cough.

"What now?"

"If you keep kissing his scrapes better, he'll throw himself off a cliff one of these days."

"George." Lucy admonishes him while she tries to settle the awkard swooping sensation in her chest.

"It's true and you know it."

Lucy nods awkwardly at her. "I mean...he's got a point."

When she thinks about it, it makes her feel funny in a way she can't deicide.

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

Later that evening, she's sitting on her porch, brooding, when Lockwood leans over the fence.

"Home so soon?"

"Thought I'd come here for some quiet thinking."

He nods affably, his flyaway hair gleaming in the setting sun. "You left your cards in the living room."

"Come on over," she says unexpectedly, possessed by a sudden desire to be close to him. It surprises her as much as him, but as she watches him walk out of his own gate, and strangely walk into her gate, the foreign sight reassures her with a distant sense of familiarity. She had been on so many crazy misadventures, but they all led her back to the same place: in his arms. Maybe the universe had grown hoarse from yelling at her to open her eyes to what was right in front of her.

He sits down next to her and hands her the cards. She looks at the quiet face of Anthony hiding inside the sallow face in front of hers, and marvels at how the same time that put her through hell as a child had somewhat healed his wounds. She puts them to the side and links her fingers in his, resting her head on his shoulder as their breath misted in the chill.

"Remember that summer at the yogurt shop?" She feels him relax against her as he hums in agreement. "You looked so fresh in your teal shirt."

"I wondered what you were doing, sitting under that tree all day. Was it really just to watch Noah all day?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. It was a weird sort of year. I had this restlessness in me...this desire to sit outside in the world and wait for things to start happening to me. For someone to find me and for my life to begin." She shifts, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Speaking of Noah...did you know he got married last year?"

"Someone wanted to marry Noah Lewis?"

"You say things like that as if I wasn't ready to have his children just two years ago."

"To be fair, you weren't the brightest two years ago."

"Anyway, they're expecting a child. Him and his wife. I even sent him a baby shower gift."

"A gift? What, TNT?"

She laughs into his shoulder, and she can feel him metaphorically swelling with pride. And when she stops laughing, there is nothing to distract her from the dull ache in her heart, the string that tugged at it as it desperately reached for Lockwood's. Lockwood, who invigorated her spirit and quelled her anxieties, who was the balmy breeze on a warm summer evening, who smelt of a pleasantly sharp soap. She stumbled and fell a million times with all the wrong people in all the wrong places, but now she felt as though she were being reeled home by the invisible string that permanently and irrevocably tied her to him.

She looks up at the sky, a thousand different shades of blue, purple and pink. The temperature continues to drop, but with Lockwood's arm wrapped around her after a particularly vicious gust of wind, she feels warm enough. She murmurs into his neck and feels the hair at the back of his neck stand against her lips.

"Isn't it just so pretty to think...all along there was some invisible string," she inhales, "tying you...to…me."

[unknownteapot]

In light of Courtney mentioning they would possibly want to direct a movie some day during the Q+A, what do you think a Smosh movie would look like with this current cast? Would it be similar to the original Smosh Movie? I'm imagining something similar to Smost the Sitcom Live, like a sitcom comedy maybe? Anyway you don’t have to answer, I’m just curious 🤗

anon, you are NOT ready i was BORN for this question and i'm about to type up a storm so strap in!! thank you for sending it in!!! me being a yapper + film student is not boding well for me rn...

i completely see what you mean about a sitcom/comedy type thing, their vibes during ssl were immaculate, but i also think if they *were* ever going to make a movie it'd be something vastly different from what they've done before just to keep it fresh and give people something never seen before. which is why..

i propose to you: a horror comedy about the cast getting stuck at the smosh office overnight (more below the cut)

hear me out HEAR ME OUT god im so passionate about this. this type of premise would avoid the cast having to play characters per se, they'd kind of just play 'themselves' so it's easier for the existing smosh fanbase to transition to this new movie format without it feeling gimicky/overproduced- the movie begins with just a typical end-of-video outro into the camera for smosh games (maybe only main cast and not freelance? bc full cast might be too many people for a movie idk) and then cuts out to the cast getting off the soundstage like hehe good shoot whatever whatever. but. wait a second. why is it past midnight?? quickly they're realising everyone's gone and its WAY late and they're locked in. all the clocks have stopped around the office. phones are all out of service (but show a weird little digital snake symbol as foreshadowing to something ;)

so now they're like uh-oh. what the fuck do we do. and promptly the cast splits into groups/pairs that all deal with this in their own way the movie would cut back and forth between. maybe amanda and angela deciding to steal alcohol from the kitchen and then snoop on people's desks?? finding out ian has a love locket of anthony in his drawer?? damien grows mushrooms under his desk??? olivia collect's people's candy wrappers?????? idk it could be ANYTHING which makes thsi SO FUNNY to me

BUT this is where the horror comes in, because suddenly people start going missing. and its not fun and games at all. the air feels weird, its like 3 am, everyone's losing their shit a little bit. they start regrouping to see who they can find "hey have you guys seen Angela?" "No, but Courtney just went missing too." "Guys I don't feel well.." AND LITTLE BY LITTLE. THEY START SEEING APPARITIONS. SMOSH CHARACTERS. WHO HAUNT THEM.

like i'm sorry. tell me it would NOT be hilarious for Mental Illness to come haunt the cast in an eerie ghost form??? Augustus??? insulting the cast (but hitting truths about them) making them think about their life decisions??? COURTNEY FREAKING MILLER???? JUST YELLING???? TELEPORTING AROUND THEM AND SCARING THE SHIT OUT OF THEM>?>>>>??? god the jumpscares they could do with this insane INSANE. BIZANKA???????????????? im

BUT NOT JUST SMOSH CHARACTERS- fnaf characters in their eerie ass suits, chica demanding Amanda why she held the door so hard that one time and didn't let her in meanwhile everyone is terrified and somewhat sobbing

so now its CHAOS, they're trying to stick together to avoid getting haunted, they're trying to find their missing friends, they're running around to the footsteps of animatronics, when suddenly they find a door to some storage closet open. they walk in.

there they are!!!! all their missing friends lying passed out on the floor and.. what's this strange hissing noise and why is it kinda foggy in there.. "Oh my god!" Amanda yells out in relief that none of this was real (or was it), "There's a gas leak at the smosh office!" And then promptly passes out. So do they all. THE END.

maybe a post-credits scene of ian and anthony coming into the office in the morning and finding a MESS and them all passed out like god. we gotta put baby gates in here or some shit. they keep messing stuff up!! OR BETTER. they dont know about the cast at first and look at each other with knowing smirks like "wanna go get high :)" and then they head towards where all their friends are passed out and we find out it was actually their secret 'gas leak' spot where they get high on the regular from the gas. ian pouting like "damnit. they found our secret spot :(" anthony shruggs like "oh well" and then they prance around the room trying to huff the gas like idiots and also pass out.

more insane ideas idk how to incorporate yet:

a comedic bit where Amanda bonds with Chica from fnaf and reads her tarot cards (amanda would SO be the person to chat her up after getting over her initial fear and be like 'hey, you just need love, honey. i get it, we've all been there') and its this insane horror yet adorable moment where these two world collide?? BONUS: if the rest of the cast hide in a corner and look at her like "how is she doing this???"

Tim the IT guy actually turning out to be a hologram that haunts all the computers with snake graphics (from that one smoffice sketch 'it could happen to any one of us!') and actually gets his energy from sucking out ram from people's devices

Props and shit moving!!! just so much potential

INNOVATIVE FORMAT:

AND a great way to introduce horror elements could be through this whole 'found footage' thing- you know how in some movies you find like someone's security cam recording etc etc. they could SO integrate elements of that because the smoffice is primarily for content creation so there's LOTS of cameras everywhere

"Hey uh.. guys I think this camera's still rolling." And its us watching footage of that room through it MASTERFUL. or people recording tiktoks and we watch through their screen recording but we see stuff in the background moving before they do YEAH. the HORROR OF IT. god i love movies

okay for everyone's sanity i will now stop i was actually not expecting to type this much- anon who sent this ask, i owe you everything!! im now obsessed with this idea i wish this was real w o w

[viennakarma]

wait also!!! (same anon as before hehe) i love the idea that in the forgiveness universe luna would find out from eavesdropping on a family member…..i lowkey love the drama of it all. i can imagine that happening during thanksgiving or christmas or some gathering like that and lewis’ dad is like has anyone tried the chicken ���� and gathers everyone out of the house

if u have any other headcanons i would love to hear <333 i can’t believe one of my fav fics involves cheating on the reader HAHA but in both endings the reader gets her happiness so thank u for that 🫂

OR OR (I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS)

Luna had always noticed how her parents celebrated two anniversaries but she never gave it too much thought, because they’re parents (ew).

Would be kinda funny if she eavesdropped on someone during like a Christmas Eve dinner or something, and she doesn’t find out about the cheating straight away, instead she finds out they married, got divorced, got married again. When she asks in front of the whole family “what do you mean you got married twice????” And Anthony is like “well, who would like to go outside and build a snowman???”

Luna would spend a few weeks pressing her parents for answers, until she starts giving them the silent treatment and it’s when Lewis decides it’s time you and him sit her down and tell the truth. Cue to a big tantrum (justified tbh) and Luna not speaking to them for a few days. She will give them, especially Lewis, a hard time about it. I think she’d have a heart to heart with you and eventually understand that you and Lewis fell in love all over again after the divorce, you took a gamble in giving her father another chance and in the end it paid off, he never made the same mistake again and became the best father and husband ever.

[Say something masterlist]

[wellgoslowly]

fic idea: Lockwood comes back early from a job, George and Lucy are out doing whatever so the reader takes this as an opportunity to dance in their underwear (called pants in England) and an oversized button up (which looks shockingly similar to one that disappeared from lockwood’s laundry a while back) while blasting music and singing along. But when she finally notices Lockwood standing at the kitchen door, she goes over and grabs his hands and pulls him into the kitchen to dance with her.

NEARLY WITCHES (EVER SINCE WE MET)

a/n: I am so sorry this took so long to get out- it's been a hectic couple of weeks. however!! for some reason I listened to vices and virtues last night and decided to write and I've been in a frenzy ever since. I hope you enjoy!! also this is my first ×reader so if it's not great, that's why. however, I'm personally really proud of it :))

pairing: anthony lockwood × fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none :)

tags: @ettadear (ty for the request!!) @givemea-dam-break @slag-for-the-fetch @ikeasupremacy @oblivious-idiot (yall seemed interested hehe)

“here I am, composing a burlesque, out of where they rest their necks…”

It was a quiet day at 35 Portland Row. Lockwood, Lucy and George were all out on a case (you had gotten injured the week before so Lockwood was putting you on time out for the time being while you healed), so you took the opportunity to tidy up the kitchen, which was growing messier and increasingly in need of care as the days went on. it wasn't as if the four of you were unaware of how dirty the house had been getting- you simply just didn't have enough time to address it. You rather liked Lucy's idea if getting an assistant.

“sunken in their splintered cradles, and ramshackle heads, they asked for it…"

Surprisingly, you didn't hate being on the Lockwood equivalent for house arrest. Ok, yes, you itched to get your rapier back into your hand and go back out on cases, but it was also really nice to just have a break once in a while. At a small agency like Lockwood and Co, as much as you loved it, breaks didn't come very often.

Besides, you knew that the second that the trio came home and saw your work in the kitchen, they would be beyond grateful. You didn't do it for the praise, but you knew precisely the type of exhaustion they were feeling and wanted to do something to lessen their stress, even if it was something as simple as washing the dishes.

“You have set your heart on haunting me forever from the start, it's never silent…”

You found you did your best cleaning while you were listening to music, resulting in you singing along to the music blasting out of your speaker, deciding not to worry about any possible noise complaints.

“ever since we met, I only shoot up with your perfume… it's the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do…”

it was because of your loud music that you didn't realize that Anthony Lockwood, your employer and one of your best friends, had returned earlier than expected and was now standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at you with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

You turned around as you danced to the music, songs from an album that you knew Lockwood loved filling the air. It was then that you noticed Lockwood standing behind you, the shock on his face mixing with another emotion you couldn't name.

You greet him with a smile and a soft “Hey, Lockwood”, but he doesn't respond- he just stares at you. It takes you a second to realize why- but when you finally understand, you feel your body warming in embarrassment.

You were wearing nothing but undergarments and a shirt- one of Lockwood's button-ups that you had stolen a while ago.

Thankfully, the shirt fell down to your mid- thigh, covering anything that might’ve made your situation worse had it been a little shorter. Still, you couldn't prevent the warmth that filled you as Lockwood took in your choice of outfit, eyes darker and more intense than usual.

“Hi.” He spoke in a whisper, as if he needed to save his energy to survey you. You suppressed a shiver at his tone, and his eyes flitted up to meet yours.

You were burning. You were on fire and Lockwood was the one who had lit the match. You had known your feelings for Lockwood for a while- you had been attracted to him ever since he had practically begged you to quit your business as a freelancer and join his scrappy little agency. You had convinced yourself that there was no way he could feel the same- that his lingering glances and flirting were just characteristics of his charming personality. But now, as he stared at you with something in his eyes that made your hands shake, you weren't so sure.

Either way, you needed to break this trance. It was dangerous, and you could feel yourself slipping away into the “what ifs” that always seemed to fill your mind whenever Lockwood was around.

“Dance with me?” You whispered, giving him your best “I Am Totally Not Attracted To You And I Am Totally Not Wearing Your Shirt” smile. You prayed that it worked.

“What?” Lockwood asked, breaking out of his trance. You held out your right hand as the song finished its second verse. “I know you love this album. Dance with me?” And then Lockwood was smiling and damn, if that didn't do something to your resolve. “If you insist.”

You don't know what you were expecting, but you certainly weren't expecting for Lockwood to grab your outstretched hand and pull you into his embrace.

You very obviously had never danced in this context before. Lockwood smiled, deciding to be the one to teach you. “Here. You put your hands,” He spoke, grabbing your wrists and gently guiding them to wrap around his neck. “… here.” Your breathing became more shallow as you felt the warm solidity of his body beneath your arms. “And I put my hands here.” He whispered. Your breath hitched as you felt his hands find their places holding your hips.

It was too much and not enough at the same time. You turn your head away from him, trying to allow yourself a moment to collect yourself and get your shit together. Lockwood didn't need to know that this was something you had imagined many times- getting to be this close to him, finding comfort on his arms after a long case or feeling his arms wrap around your waist from behind as you cooked breakfast.

“Is this ok?” Lockwood whispered, lessening his hold on your hips before taking his hands away entirely. Your head snapped back to look at him, willing him to please put his hands back. “Yeah, it's ok.” You whispered. You see the side of his mouth quirk up as he returns his hands back to where they were. And then the song was changing and he was pulling you in so your head rested on his chest and you were slow dancing.

“When the world gets too heavy, put it on my back, I'll be your levvy.”

You instantly recognized the song that began playing, and your face heated up even more, thinking about how many times you had thought about being this close to Lockwood while listening to this song.

“Where are Lucy and George?” You ask, trying to keep your voice calm despite the mass amounts of emotions that were plaguing your heart. “Took the source down to the furnaces and then to bring back food. They won't be back for a while.” Lockwood spoke softly, and you hummed in understanding.

“It was always you, falling for me. Now there's always time, calling for me.”

You stayed like this for a little while- his hands on your waist, your head against his chest, swaying softly to the song playing from your light green speaker. You found yourself wishing that you could stay like this forever, happily dancing with your best friend.

And then the song ended and Lockwood broke the spell. “Are you wearing my shirt?” Lockwood asked, his voice huskier than usual. You flushed bright red as you extracted your hands from around his neck, moving to back away but not being able to go far as Lockwood didn't realize your intentions and kept his hands on your hips.

“Uh, yeah.” You admitted, looking away from him out of embarrassment. “I forgot to do the wash and I realized this had gotten thrown into mine a while ago, so it was all I had to wear. I can return it as soon as I finish my laundry-” You were about to profusely apologize for taking his shirt, but within seconds you weren't able to say anything as Lockwood surged forward and pressed his lips to yours.

It was quick, chaste- fleeting and burning and gone far too soon for your liking. Lockwood was the one to end it, his eyes wide once more, but now filled with something like fear.

“I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me-” It was your turn to interrupt him, you decided, as you wrapped a hand around his tie and pulled him back down to kiss him again

His hands went back to your hips as you moved your right hand up to hold his jaw momentarily before slipping into his hair. He let out a low sound, something that sent your brain into a frenzy as he kissed you with increasing fervor, pressing you up against the kitchen counter.

You couldn't tell how long you stayed like that, limbs tangled together as you kissed like it was the last kiss you would ever have, but eventually you had to separate to breathe. You smiled as you took in the sight in front of you: Lockwood was standing there, staring at you, swollen lips and flushed cheeks and messed hair all indications of what you had just been doing. It was the most beautiful you had ever seen him look.

He smiled back at you. “You don't have to give me my shirt back.” was the first thing he said, his voice raspy and way too attractive for his own good. “Do you like me wearing your shirt?” You asked, smiling. “Way too much.” He admitted before kissing you once more.

You lost time again- you practically melted into his arms. You were too caught up in kissing Lockwood- finally- to realize that Lucy and George had returned home until they appeared in the kitchen.

“Finally!!” George yelled, startling you and Lockwood.

“Wait- why aren't you wearing trousers?? Please don't tell me you're having sex on the counter!” You laughed into Lockwood's chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

Much later, after you all had said goodnight to one another, you found yourself creeping downstairs and into Lockwood's room and asking him if he wanted to dance some more, a smile lighting up your face as he said “yes, of course.”

ty for reading!!! I will be writing more requests now that I have time and motivation lol. also in case u were wondering, the two songs referenced in here are nearly witches (ever since we met) and always by panic! at the disco!!! I hate brendan urie but vices and virtues is such a good album.

anywho I hope yall enjoyed!!!