#i am a writer's wet dream

[pinkysberg]

i have like 10 full pages of notes that pertain to dutch van der linde's mental state and im being told this isn't normal ?!

[mmeskywalker]

|| finally mine

summary: THEODORE NOTT, your newfound lover after the whole new year’s eve fiasco, is walking you to your dorm after the party. when you get there, you see a new side of him, a caring, yet dominant side... oh, honey, it’s okay, he just wants to show you his love, the love that pours from every fiber of his being for you.

word count: ngl, i didn’t feel like finding out. it’s shorter than part one.

part one: https://www.tumblr.com/mmeskywalker/746406054677692416/new-years-and-blooming-hearts

a/n: this is lowercase intended. i kind of rushed this, so i’m sorry if it’s awful… i’ve had horrible writers block recently.

warnings: smut. rough, but caring theo. praise kink. italian nicknames. italian!theo. a little bit of jealousy.

——————————————————————————

the rain poured around you and theodore, his arms over your heads as he lifted his robe to keep from getting wet. to your not-so-utter surprise, it wasn’t working very well.

“theo, we’re still getting soaked,” you giggled, walking close enough to him to have your head under his arm—which, funnily enough, was protecting you more from the rain than his robe.

theodore shook his head, laughing softly beside you. “no, no, no, bambina, the robe is doing wonders.” he sighed before smiling again, almost as if he was lost in thought.

“i never dreamed i'd be walking you back to your dorm room on new year's eve," theodore remarked, his voice low and playful. "but i'm very glad i am now."

you looked up at him, your eyes reflecting the twinkling lights from the castle as you walked. "me too," you whispered, squeezing his arm gently. the rain continued to fall, but it no longer bothered you. you couldn’t stop smiling due to where the night was ending.

he reluctantly takes the robe off and slides it back on, the wetness no affecting him due to how wet he already was. he’s looking at you as if you were a jewel, and you smile at him. “what?” you asked.

a slow smile spreaded across his face. leaning in closer, his nose brushed against yours as if he were he breathing in your scent. "nothing… it’s just—you are everything to me, soffio," he murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion.

his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your damp hair as he tilted your head gently to the side. "you’re absolutely everything." he repeated, his eyes flickering down to your lips, a hunger burning in their depths. "and i don’t ever want to put you in a position where you think otherwise again," he whispered, before capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless. his lips moved against yours with a passion and intensity you'd never felt before, pouring all of his love and desire into that single, perfect moment.

as theodore's lips moved urgently against your own, his hands roamed your curves, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

when he finally pulled back, you were both left breathless, your chests heaving and your cheeks flushed. “come on,” theodore's eyes were dark with desire as he gazed down at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "let's get you inside before we catch pneumonia," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

“sounds like a plan,” you chuckled, a sudden desire arousing within you.

he took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as he led you quickly into the entrance hall of your dormitory. the warmth of the interior was a stark contrast to the chilly rain outside, and you couldn't help but shiver slightly as the door closed behind you.

theodore noticed and immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. "you're freezing, bambina," he said softly, rubbing your arm to try and warm you up. "come on, let's get you to your room."

he guided you upstairs, his steps confident and purposeful. when you reached your door, he turned to face you, his hand still gently rubbing your arm. he looked down at you, his eyes soft and caring. "here we are," he murmured, glancing at the wood panel behind you. “now get inside, bella, i don’t want you catching a cold.”

theodore leaned against the doorframe, his damp chestnut hair falling across his forehead as he gazed down at you with a warm, affectionate smile. his dark green robe clung to his tall, muscular frame, the fabric glistening with raindrops. he reached out, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your cheek.

“what about you," you murmured softly, your voice trembling slightly with anticipation, "why don’t you come inside? i don’t want you catching a cold either, teddy. besides, i don't to spend new years alone." you stepped into the room, pulling him gently by the hand.

your voice cracks, almost as if it were a plea. “please, stay with me tonight.”

theodore paused, his eyes widening slightly at your invitation. a slow, worriful look spread across his features as he gazed down at you, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "are you sure, soffio?" he asked softly, a hint of teasing in his low, melodic voice. "because if i come in there, i don’t know if i'll be able to control myself." he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "seeing you with enzo tonight—it drove me crazy.” his other hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling your curves flush against his muscular chest. "cara mia, i yearn for you." his voice was whiny, almost as if he were about to fall to his knees, his gaze intense and filled with a quiet desperation.

“theodore," you breathed out, your eyes darkening with desire as you gazed up at him. "i’m sure. you can ask anyone we know—i've wanted you for so long.”

you slid your hands up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his damp robe. your fingers curled into the fabric, tugging him closer until your bodies were pressed together, your curves fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his muscular frame.

"please," you whispered, your voice low and filled with longing. "make me yours, theodore. i want to start this new year as your girl, completely and entirely yours, nobody elses." you leaned in, your lips brushing against his jawline as you placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat.

your hands fumbled with the sash of his robe, desperation coursing through your veins as you tried to remove the barrier between your bodies. "please, theodore," you whimpered, your voice high and needy. "i need you so badly, i can't stand it."

“bella— you’re trembling,” his brows etched upward, his large hands squeezing gently at your hips. you moan against his neck, and something inside of him switches. something predatory.

you captured his mouth in a fierce, desperate kiss, your tongue tangling with his own as you poured all of your desire into the embrace. your hands slid beneath his robe, nails raking down his back as you held him close. "fuck me, theodore," you gasped against his lips. "i’m sorry for being so straight forward—but please, fuck me like you mean it, like you'll never let me go."

theodore groaned deeply as your nails dug into his back, his hips surging forward to grind his hardening length against your core. "if you keep begging like that, bella," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "…i don’t know what i’ll do."

“me,” you press yourself against him, your palm feeling his hard erection through his pants. “do me, make me yours, please.”

theodore's eyes flashed with a primal hunger at your desperate pleas, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "y/n, you have no idea what you're asking for," he whimpered, his hands grabbing at your hips. "if we do this, i won't be able to hold back. i'll take you in ways you've never been taken before.”

he leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat as he spoke. "i've wanted you for so long, bellissima. watched you with other men, imagining all the things i would do to you, how i would claim this body as mine."

theodore's grip tightened, fingers digging into the flesh of your rear as he grinded his hardening bulge against your core. "if we start this, you're mine. no turning back,” he warned, voice dropping an octave.

“i want this,” you say, surprised but not upset at his complete change in demeanor.

at that, he threw off his robe, letting it fall to the floor as he revealed his toned, muscular body to your hungry gaze. he captured your hands, pinning them above your head as he settled between your thighs, the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against your clothed sex.

it was almost as if all he needed was your approval before flipping the switch.

"i'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling it for days," he promised darkly, his hips rolling in a slow, teasing grind against yours. "i'm going to claim this pretty pussy as mine, make it mine in every way possible."

“please, theo,” you moaned, the sight of him and his dominance making you drip with desire.

he tugged your leggings and panties down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly. his fingers delved between your thighs, stroking through your slick folds, feeling your wetness. "so fucking wet for me already," he purred, his fingers circling your clit.

theodore's fingers have already slipped inside you, pumping in and out of your soaked entrance. his thumb rubbed firm circles around your clit, making your hips buck up against his hand, desperate for more. "please, theodore," you whimpered, your voice high and needy, "i need your cock inside me, i need you to fill me up."

he chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "so impatient, amore mio. don't worry, i'll give you what you need." he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck your juices clean. "mmm, you taste so good, soffio."

he undid his trousers, freeing his hard, thick cock. it jerked against his stomach, long and heavy, the swollen head already leaking with arousal. "look at what you do to me, bella," he said softly, wrapping a hand around his length and stroking slowly. "look how hard you make me, how much i need to be inside you."

theodore's eyes darkened as he watched you watch him stroke his thick cock. "no one could ever love you the way i do, soffio," he murmured, his voice low and intense. "not lorenzo, not anyone else." his hand tightened around his length, pumping faster as he held your gaze. "i've known you for so long, been by your side through everything. i know every part of you, inside and out." he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. "i know how to make you feel pleasure beyond what anyone else could even imagine. you're mine, and you always will be."

he positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. "tell me you know it too, amore mio," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "tell me you know that no one could ever fuck you like i can, could ever make you feel as good as i do." he rolled his hips, teasing you with the promise of being filled. "say it, soffio. i want to hear you say it."

you reached up, cupping his chiseled jaw in your palm as you traced the sharp lines of his face with your fingertips. "i've never wanted anyone as much as i want you," you confessed softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "i've never felt this way about anyone before." you brushed your thumb across his bottom lip, your breath mingling with his own. "please, theodore. please make me yours, completely and entirely. i need you to fuck me like you mean it, like you'll never let me go. please—you’re the only one who could ever make me feel good, baby, please.”

theodore's eyes flashed with a primal hunger at your words, a possessive gleam that sent shivers down your spine. "that's my girl," he praised softly, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

theo's grin widened, showing off his perfect white teeth as he gazed down at you with a newfound intensity. "you're perfect, you know that? such a good girl, so eager to give yourself to me completely."

his hand slid up your side, cupping your breast and squeezing gently as he rolled his hips, teasing your entrance with his thick length. "i can feel how much you want it, how desperate you are to be filled by me. your little pussy is gripping my cock so tightly already, begging to be stretched and filled."

theo leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "you have a praise kink, don't you, amore mio? you love hearing me tell you how good and perfect you are while i fuck this sweet cunt." he nipped at your earlobe before soothing it with his tongue. "don't worry, bella. i'm going to praise you the whole time, let you know just how amazing you are as i claim this pussy as mine."

you couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled back.

theo rolled his hips again, the head of his cock popping inside your tight entrance. "you're going to be screaming my name in no time, begging me to fuck you harder and deeper.”

a breathy whimper escaped your lips as theodore’s praise washed over you, your body trembling with anticipation and desire. "theo," you gasped, your voice high and needy as you clung to him desperately. "please, i need—fuck!" your hips jerked as he pushed forward, your walls clenching greedily around his thick length as it stretched you open.

"oh fuck, you're so big," you mewled, your thighs quivering around his waist. tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed up at him, your irises hazy and unfocused.

theodore’s eye lit up, the way you screamed for him making him almost cum on the spot.

your fingers dug into his back, nails raking down his skin as you tried to pull him closer, to feel more of his weight pressing down on you. "more," you whimpered pitifully, your voice breaking on the word. "please, theo, more. i need it, i need you so badly."

you arched your back, pressing your aching breasts against his chest as you wrapped your legs around his waist. your body was a live wire of sensation, every nerve ending screaming with the need to be touched.

theodore groaned deeply as your walls clenched vice-like around his throbbing cock, your desperate whimpers spurring on his desire. "fuck, listen to you, so needy and greedy for my dick," he growled, his hips surging forward to bury himself balls-deep inside your tight heat. "such a good girl, taking me so deep already."

he paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of your walls fluttering around his length. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he whispered against them. "you're doing so well, amore mio. taking my cock like you were made for it."

his hand slid down to your ass, squeezing the firm globe as he started to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you before slamming back in, setting a hard and fast pace. "this is what you needed, isn't it? to be split open on your best friend’s thick cock, fucked so hard you forget your own name?"

he angled his hips, hitting that special spot inside you with every deep thrust. "i'm going to ruin you for anyone else, soffio. no one will ever make you feel as good as i can."

theodore could feel your body tensing, your walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning length. "that's it, baby. fuck, you're getting close already, aren't you?" he groaned, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent as he chased your impending release. "come on, amore mio. i want to feel this pretty little pussy spasm around my cock as you scream my name."

he slid a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. "cum for me, y/n. let go and give yourself to me completely. i know you need it, baby. i can feel how badly you want it."

theodore's hips snapped forward, driving into you with a force that rocked your entire body. "do it, y/n. scream my name and cum on my cock like a good girl. show me who this pussy belongs to."

your body started to tremble, your walls clenching desperately around theodore's pistoning length as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy. "theodore!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate as you clung to him for dear life.

your hips jerked and bucked wildly beneath him, meeting his every powerful thrust as you raced towards your climax. "i’m cumming—i’m cumming!" you sobbed, your entire being consumed with the all-encompassing need to let go.

theodore's fingers worked furiously over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "that's it, y/n. let it happen. give yourself to me, all of yourself," he commanded, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "i want to feel your cum dripping down my cock as you scream my name in pure bliss."

his hips slammed into yours one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he growled, "cum, y/n. now."

your body convulsed, your inner walls clenching like a vice around theo’s throbbing cock as your orgasm crashed over you. "theo!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as wave after wave of intense pleasure consumed you.

your vision went white, stars exploding behind your eyelids as you shook and trembled beneath him, completely at the mercy of your overwhelming climax. "fuck, fuck!" you chanted mindlessly, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth as you surrendered to the blissful agony of your release.

your thighs clamped around his waist, holding him deep inside you as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his length, milking him for all he was worth. tears streamed down your face, sobs of ecstasy wracking your chest as you rode out the intense high, your body wracked with the force of your orgasm.

theodore slowed his thrusts, his hips gently rocking into yours as he let you ride out your high, his hands stroking over your trembling body soothingly. "shhh, that's it. that's my good girl," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your face, catching your tears with his lips. "you did so well, baby. so perfect."

when your shudders finally subsided, he carefully pulled out of you, hissing softly at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his sensitive cock. he gently rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were curled up against his chest, your head pillowed on his bicep.

his fingers combed through your sweat-dampened hair, brushing it back from your face as he gazed down at you with a soft, tender smile. "are you okay, baby? that was... intense," he said softly, a note of concern in his voice. "i didn't hurt you, did i?”

you looked up at theodore, your eyes hazy but filled with warmth and affection. a small, blissful smile tugged at your kiss-swollen lips as you shook your head, nuzzling into his chest. "no, not at all," you murmured, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. "that was... amazing. better than amazing."

you traced patterns on his chest with your fingertips, marveling at the way his muscles jumped beneath your touch.

theodore's eyes softened as he gazed down at your blissed out expression, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "you're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "i've wanted you for so long. not sexually, just… as a whole.”

theodore gazed deeply into your eyes, his own filled with a tender, loving adoration he had never before allowed himself to show.

theodore gazed deeply into your eyes, his own filled with a tender, loving adoration he had never before allowed himself to show. "i've fallen in love with you, y/n," he confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "not just as a friend, or even just as a lover. i'm in love with all of you—your brilliant mind, your kind heart, your stunning beauty inside and out." he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin as he held your gaze captive. "i couldn’t be more grateful to call myself your boyfriend.”

you felt your heart skip a beat at theodore's heartfelt confession, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. "theo," you breathed out, your eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. "i... i love you too. so much."

you leaned up, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed at him with a soft, loving smile. "i never thought i could feel this way about anyone. especially not someone i've known for so long." you chuckled softly, shaking your head in amazement. "but here we are. and i couldn't be happier."

you snuggled closer to him, draping your leg over his waist as you traced his jawline with your fingertips. "you're not just my boyfriend, theodore. you're my best friend. the person i trust most in the world." you leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his in a tender kiss.

theodore gazed deeply into your eyes, his heart racing as he drank in the sight of your blissful, loving expression. "i feel the same way about you," he murmured, a note of wonder in his voice. "especially not my best friend." he smiled softly, shaking his head in amazement. "and i am so grateful that i don’t have to hide it anymore."

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I am losing my fucking mind over this scene. The look on Price's face. The soft hum, the smile, the eyes, the "good to see you again, Simon". Not Ghost. Simon.

I had this in mind during the boxing fic. He wasn't joking. Lieutenant Simon Riley is his favourite. The history these two have. It's a fic writer's wet dream.

Also, the symbolism of Ghost taking off his mask? The trust, but also, he's part of the team. He's starting off where they are, as Simon, and they'll put the skull mask on together. As one. They're all Ghost now. The Ghost identity will protect them as it has protected him since he lost everything.

[reidsaurora]

Your event is so cute!!! Could I get a sun kissed Malibu dream house with Aaron?? 🥹 in need of some fluff with him hehe

i am so so sorry this took me so long to write! writer's block these past few months has been kicking my butt. but, thanks to my awesome betas, i think i wrote something you'll like! hope you enjoy!

"Summer Lovin" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: As the start of summer arrives, you and your friends at the BAU find yourselves feeling a bit reminiscent of the summers before. Along with that reminiscence, you start to miss the days when you and Aaron had little babies instead of big kids…

Pairing: Dad!Aaron Hotchner x Mom!Reader

Word Count: 2,019

Content Warning: lots of talk of babies/pregnancy, sexual humor, kind of fade to black smut if you read between the lines lol, small mention of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i'm so sorry this took so long, i had a very hard time writing this and def meant to post it sooner. however, in the spirit of my city being under a heat advisory today, this feels appropriate to post 😂

Originally Written: 06/04/2024 through 06/25/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @virtual-vivi 🫶🏻🩷

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration info can be found here!

Sun Kissed - fluff requests

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Aaron tossed off the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief. “When did it get so hot?” he grumbled, his morning voice prominent. As he rolled over to his back, you spotted a big wet spot on the front of his tee shirt from just how much he was sweating.

Still, you scooted closer to him anyway and tossed an arm over his abdomen, his familiar scent filling your senses. “News said there’d be an excessive heat wave today.”

“It's probably ninety degrees already,” he complained, “and it's not even 9:00 yet.”

Rolling onto your side to face him, you left a trail of kisses along his jawline. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills,” you giggled, referencing one of your kids’ favorite movies. “When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?”

“It's sweltering! How in the world could you possibly want to cuddle right now?” Aaron ignored your attempt to brighten the mood, instead opting to toss a pillow over his head and groan into it.

You just pulled the pillow away and left another peck on his jaw. “Because I love you. And because our children are gonna come in here any minute to take you away from me.”

He noticed the small pout that followed your statement, the expression enough to soften even Aaron Hotchner, king of stoicism, up. “Alright, fine. I'll allow it. But only because you drive a hard bargain.”

Your pout was replaced with a smirk as you snuggled closer into his side. “Mmm, that means a lot, coming from an ex-prosecutor. Maybe I should've gone to law school with you.”

“You're too sensitive for the big house, or whatever they say,” Aaron snickered. After noticing your look of offense, he quickly covered with, “I didn't mean it in a bad way. You have feelings. It's a very nice thing to come home to after dealing with emotionless psychopaths all day.”

“I think you're trying to compliment me. I'll take it.”

His lips met yours for a quick peck before saying, “I have nothing but compliments for you, my love,” Then, he met you with a second, much longer kiss, and while he tasted like morning breath, moments like this were so rare that you were willing to look past it.

One of his large hands met your leg, his calloused fingertips trailing along your bare skin. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been like this, with two children always needing your attention and the FBI always needing Aaron's. Just a simple touch of his fingers had you forgetting about the outside world, if even for just a moment.

Your lips met his neck, his stubble scratchy against your skin. He'd been away on a case in Seattle for about a week, and you were certain he hadn't shaved the whole trip. You liked it that way anyway.

His hand traveled further up under your nightgown, settling on your thigh. He squeezed the supple skin, a gesture of both affection and want.

“Are you trying to go for number three?” you joked before kissing his neck once more.

“Believe me,” Aaron chuckled, “if I knew I had enough time, I'd certainly try.”

As if on cue, four scurrying feet came stamping across the hardwood floor into your bedroom. “Good morning, Daddy!” both of your children yelled in sync, climbing onto the edge of the bed.

“That's why you're not allowed a third,” you mumbled into his ear. “The ones you have don't even appreciate me.”

“They love you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. To the kids, he said, “Good morning. Don't you have anything else you want to say?”

They both turned to you, sheepish looks coming across their tiny, adorable faces. “Good morning, Mommy.”

“That's better,” Aaron said, gaining him a snicker from you. “Now, may I ask why the two of you are up so early and you're already in your swimsuits?”

It was then that you realized he was right. Jack, the older of your children, was sporting his favorite Spiderman swim trunks, while his little sister, Libby, had managed to dress herself in a cherry-print swimsuit she hadn't quite grown into yet. They made your heart melt.

“Daddy,” Libby sighed, clearly exasperated with her father, “don't you know what day it is?”

It happened to be the day your kids hadn't stopped talking about for weeks: the beginning-of-summer pool party you and Aaron threw every year for your friends and his coworkers at the BAU.

Aaron tapped a finger against his chin, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Let's see… it's not Libby’s birthday, and it's not Jack’s birthday, it's not my birthday, and I don't think it's your mom’s birthday,” his last comment earned him a sarcastic look from you. “Hmm, what day could it be?”

You joined in on his little game, tapping against your chin as you pretended to think. “Perhaps it's Christmas?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at you. “It's too early in the year for Christmas,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You're right.” As you continued tapping your finger, you shot Aaron a knowing look, which he gladly returned. He could tell by the gleam in your eye exactly what you meant with that look. “Is it…”

Each of you grabbed a kid, tickling and eliciting little squeals and giggles. “Pool party day?!” the two of you shouted in sync.

Libby thrashed around in your arms, laughing and squirming, while Jack attempted to escape his father's arms. Moments like these were almost as rare as the ones with just you and Aaron, so you had to take advantage of them while you could.

“It's pool party day!” Libby squeaked, while Jack was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe.

Their smiles and laughs pulled at your heartstrings. You wondered when the universe decided to make your babies grow up, since it seemed like only yesterday when you had a newborn and a two-year-old.

Bringing yourself out of your nostalgic trance, you pulled yourself out of the bed, grabbing each kid by the hand. “Who wants to make pancakes while Daddy’s in the shower?”

—

Soon enough, all your friends had arrived and it felt like summer had too. Penelope and Spencer were currently entertaining all the kids, while the other men were crowded around the grill and the rest of the ladies were sitting poolside and working on their tans.

“You ever wonder if either of them will have kids?” JJ asked, nodding toward Penelope and Spencer.

“Spencer, a hundred percent,” Emily answered, like her statement was a fact. “Penelope, I'm not so sure.”

You were next to jump into the conversation, not even bothering to look up from your magazine. “Why do you ask, Jen?”

JJ let out a longing sigh. “It's been so long since we've had a baby around here.”

Putting the magazine down, you looked over to her, eyebrows creased. “Henry's only three. It hasn't been that long.”

“You don't miss having a baby at our get-togethers? Emily, where do you stand?”

“Don’t look at me,” Emily said with wide eyes. “If I didn't have to change another diaper for a lifetime, it still wouldn't be long enough.” She was the one person in the group that was rather indifferent to children, but babies, she'd rather not talk about or be around.

“Yeah, babies are nice,” you said, “but the pregnancy part? That's what I'd rather go a lifetime without.”

“Well, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on,” JJ snickered. “At least making the baby is fun.”

Emily tossed the pillow behind her back in the direction of her coworker, giggling all the while. “Jennifer!”

“What?” she laughed as she swatted the pillow away. “Am I wrong?”

You let out a small snicker yourself, shooting a glance in the direction of your husband, who was currently taking his turn in manning the grill.

Neither of your friends missed that look, both their mouths falling agape at the expression. “Spill!” they squealed in sync.

Penelope made her way over from the edge of the pool, her face overtaken by the brightest smile known to mankind. “I heard the ‘Someone has beans to spill’ variety of squeals and giggles. What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” you insisted with an eye roll.

Emily patted the edge of her chaise, welcoming Penelope over. “Come sit, we're gonna get it out of her. After all, two out of three of us are profilers.”

Your eyes narrowed at the brunette. “Do you forget that I also used to be a profiler before my kids came along?”

“Stop changing the subject,” Penelope said with a swat of her hand. “Spill your guts. What did I miss?”

“Well, we were talking about how it's been so long since anyone on the team, past or present, has had a kid,” Jennifer explained.

“And someone looked at her husband with that look,” Emily further explained.

You scoffed. “It was not that look.”

“It totally was,” your friends spoke in sync.

Penelope's face lit up like a child in a candy store, her mind clearly running rampant with ideas of what the look meant. “Oh my God, are you-”

“No!” you quickly interrupted, knowing exactly where that question was headed. “Not yet anyway,” you mumbled under your breath.

The three of them practically jumped out of their seats and gathered around you, all screams and smiles.

“We haven't even had the conversation yet!”

“But you're going to!” Penelope insisted.

You rolled your eyes, but internally, you couldn't be happier for the gift of friendship from these three women. Jennifer, the mom friend in more ways than one. Emily, the voice of reason who not-so-secretly had a funny side and always knew how to make you laugh. And Penelope, the perfect shoulder to cry on and perfect soul to confide in. Lucky didn't even begin to describe how you felt about knowing these women.

Suddenly, you found yourself— as Penelope had said— spilling your guts. “I don't know. This morning just felt… different. Like, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another baby around.”

The three of them flooded you with comments of love and support, hugs wrapping around you from each direction. Having another baby would be different, of course, but your friends were making sure that you knew it would be a good kind of different.

“I still have to get Aaron on board, so no one get too excited,” you reminded them.

JJ was already way ahead of you. “We've got the kids, Rossi and Derek have the grill. Don't worry about anything out here. You and your man deserve a moment of free time.”

“Just so we're clear,” you said, pointing a finger as if to further prove your point, “we are just going to talk. No funny business.”

Emily snickered. “Yeah, the same way you guys used to ‘talk’ on the jet?” Your cheeks heated to a bright red shade at her comment.

“Ew, Hotch is in the mile high club?!” Penelope practically screamed. Luckily, everyone else seemed too engrossed in conversation to hear her, but you were still mortified nonetheless.

“Okay, scratch what I said. I'm actually going inside to give myself a lobotomy.”

And with that, your friends were shouting in sync different variations of “Have fun!”

Then, with a smile on your face from both the joy of friendship and the love you had for your husband, you found yourself heading over to the grill and pulling Aaron away. His reaction was nothing short of laughter as you practically dragged him toward the house, his shirt nearly coming off with how hard you were tugging it.

Lips met skin as you closed the back door behind you. Aaron let out another chuckle, though he surely wasn't protesting your affection. “Woah, that look in your eyes tells me you're the one thinking about number three,” he commented, referencing your words from that morning.

“Well,” you said as your fingers started to trail under the hem of his dark gray tee shirt. With another kiss to his neck, you continued, “About that…”

taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @lover-of-books-and-tea

[tracksuitponytail]

A huge thank you to all the wonderful writers in this fandom for sharing your stories and providing us with a place to retreat through your words and visions.

📚 sunshine, baby! by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 106k, friends with benefits]

Louis is in his first year of law school, Harry is a junior on the swim team dreaming of the Olympics, and they both agree that they don't have time for anything more than friends with benefits... right?

📚 Breakable Heaven by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose [E, 44k, greek mythology]

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath.

“I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met many creatures then.”

Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. “None like you.”

📚 The Cottage by @holdingontochaos [E, 70k, omegaverse]

Louis hates alphas and he has good reason to, but when his beloved omega grandmother dies, and he inherits her cottage, he meets Harry, an alpha hazelnut farmer who sneaks his way into Louis’ life.

While Louis struggles with his severe touch deprivation, he forms a friendship with Harry that turns out to be exactly what he needed.

📚 Stay forever by @allwaswell16 [E, 6k, omegaverse]

For the last year and a half, Harry has spent his coffee break at the same cafe every day, not because he loves their coffee, but rather because of the gorgeous omega behind the counter making the coffees. As a beta, he’s sure he doesn’t stand a chance with him, so he goes online to find as close a substitute as possible.

📚 If Walls Could Talk by wickedarcher_08 [E, 10k, friends to lovers]

Harry is in love with his straight best friend. He thinks he doesn't have a chance, until Louis presents him with a challenge he can't refuse.

📚 you are half of me (and I am all for you) by @angelichl [E, 24k, friends to lovers]

One Direction, an obscure indie rock band, is about to embark on their first cross-country tour, living out of Louis' beloved van named Patricia.

Harry is in love, and Louis is oblivious. Or is he?

Featuring skinny-dipping in Texas waterfalls, getting lost in the desert, stargazing under the New Mexico sky, performing in front of crowds that grow in size each night, and falling in love on the road during the greatest summer of their lives.

📚 Take My Hand, Dumbass by LadyLondonderry / @londonderrytea [GA, 5k, omegaverse]

There's only alpha dorms at university, and Louis Tomlinson, omega, refuses to pay the exorbitant fees to live off campus. So, four years pretending to be an alpha it is! That'll be easy.

And maybe it would be easy, if not for the depri and the annoying alpha roommate and the fact that Louis is, honestly, a bit too stubborn for his own good.

📚 Hea(van) Is A Place on Earth with You by @insightfulinsomniac [E, 6k, college au]

University students Harry and Louis want to spend some alone time together — the problem is, both of their respective roommates are fast asleep. Harry solves that problem with some blankets, a secluded parking space, and his beloved beater van, Belinda.

📚 light me up, put me on top by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry [E, 24k, famous/non-famous]

Harry takes Louis back to Northern Europe to experience his first Nordic Christmas in their beloved cabin, surrounded by nothing but peace and snow. So much snow.

Short "spin-off" to 'Love is a word, you gave it a name' universe. Takes place after the second part of the main story, but before the final epilogue.

📚 Talk Dirty To Me by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite [E, 13k, friends to lovers]

The one where Harry is absolutely terrible at dirty talk so he asks his best friend to teach him. And the one where Louis knows it's a catastrophically bad idea but agrees anyway.

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

Kinktober Day 2

one bed trope

let's go

schlatt

jokes about taking the bed and you taking the couch, but overall wants to share the bed “for comfort’s sake toots”

very upset about it (or so you think)

tries to stay a respectful distance from you

dreams about you nonstop in more and more lewd ways. wakes up in the middle of the night with a b o n e r i tell you what

he had to fix that shit NEOW 

hopes you wont wake up while he’s desecrating the close friendship you two have built on trust

aka, jerking off next to his crush and best friend while in bed with them after dreaming about fucking them

gets VERY scared and insecure when you wake up and catch him, ready to flee

ted (im realizing i am not a ted writer)

offers to take the couch

you say you’d rather have him lay with you than sit in the cuck chair all night, his spine would be ruined and mess up his attitude for the next day of shooting

doesn’t take all that much convincing 

offers his arm for you to cuddle him if you wanted

also one to dream of you while trying not to think about how close and warm and pretty much perfect you are, pressed right up to his side

you wake up in the morning with ted spooning you and with something uncomfortably poking your ass

ted doesnt seem to be awake yet so you test a theory by rubbing yourself against him

he moans out your name among choruses of swears as he finally cums his pants

you can feel the wet patch but dont want to clean up before he wakes and has to deal with the fact that he did that

read: fuck you how he did in his dream

charlie

insists on taking the couch

i mean INSISTS

you have to drag him to the bed

you dont give him a chance at distancing from you, pulling him into a cuddling position

“cuddle me char-char” you say in an overly innocent tone

he finally sinks into the embrace and rests his eyes for the night, still nervous about what might happen

he’s had naughty dreams about you before and just prayed that it wouldnt happen tonight

you wake up and notice your hand drifted south to charlie’s hard cock

when you realize, you give a couple experimental strokes which were greeted by him humping your hand and his pretty little whimpers 

you make a hard decision (to wake him up to you sucking him off or you riding him)

taglist @xoxoave @jschladderall @manticore-fangs @ezraholmes @honeymochii @ratqueen06 @haceroo @ev3-sb @0miamor0 @miniminkis @lover-girl-for-life @jaytalksnonsense @baadkiitty @adriixboo @caiterculy @ratsatemyson @xplrmyguts @littleskeletonprincess @morgan-getty @britishscum @babies-blues @jay-cosplay-bin @vigari @bigbuvkybarness (still broken)

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[gemissleeping]

Sea Foam | Chapter Four

Theodore Nott x Siren!Reader

Read the other Chapters here.

Summary: After a moonlit swim, you find Theo in the Common Room. Half asleep and buried in a book.

Length: 2.2k

Notes: This is so late and I am so sorry. I really struggled with this chapter, but I hope it was worth the wait! NSFW ahead, minors dni. Soft Theo, Sleepy Theo. First time smut writer and it is relatively soft, not super spicy sorry. It might be bad oops <3

Beams of moonlight broke through the slick of the surface, cutting down to the bottom of the lake. There was a soft current pulling at you, kelp licking at the skin of your back. Arms outstretched towards the rays, fingertips dancing through them curiously.

It was these nights, weightless and floating through the darkness, that you almost found yourself enjoying it all. No full moon to shatter your mind, to cause you to betray yourself. It brought a kind of quiet you were certain you’d never felt anywhere else, and never could.

Theo’s words were heavy on your mind, threatening to sink you with their weight. You’d tried to brush him off again, to pretend that the last few weeks had been easy for you. But it wasn’t the truth. In his absence you had only grown wanting. Finally settling on the undeniable truth of who he was to you. Who he had always been, even when you had tried so desperately to push him aside, ignore the way your eyes found one another in every room. Every breath becoming so unbearably conscious when the other was near.

It was past midnight when you found him in the common room. Tucked into the nook of couches by the window. Your hair still doused in salt. Wind-bitten and bone-tired as you pulled your clothes tighter to your skin.

You’d known he would be here, though you pushed it to the corners of your mind any chance you got. Only watery ribbons of moonlight accompanied him, splayed across his skin. Ripples of light swimming against the marks that dotted the skin of his neck, his cheek. His eyes half-drawn with the need for rest.

A book was strewn lazily through Theo’s hands as he leant back. Head resting against the lounge’s spine, losing his fight against the pull of sleep.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, unable to recall ever having seen him so disarmed before. His chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. It was a brutal thing, to see someone so themselves. To see what they might’ve been like if they’d been left completely unbruised and unburdened. It wasn’t something you allowed yourself to linger on for long.

You drew yourself closer, still engulfed by the dips of shadow that traced the candlelit walls. You came to rest by the high arched window, just a few heartbeats away from him. Wet hair curled, water running down the backs of your arms and onto the windowsill as you lazed into it. Head tilting, trying to catch the title of the leather bound book in Theo’s hands.

Curiosity was biting at you, and so you found yourself leaning towards the boy. One tentative hand on the lounge’s arm as you studied the page Theo had stilled on. It should have come as no surprise when the the candlelight flickered across it, revealing Sirens, Sea Creatures & Other Secrets of the Depths. Fondness licked at your chest, your eyes flickering from the book’s open page to Theo’s dream swept expression with a soft smile.

You turned back to the book, intrigue sinking it’s claws in deeper as you skimmed the inked paper. Reading on in a gentle trance until sleepy fingers brushed your wrist.

Theo gazed up at you through lidded eyes. Unsure if he had truly woken up, or if the dream he yearned for each night had finally come to visit him. His hand encircling your wrist surely, ensuring you would stay right where you were. Right where you were supposed to be.

“Your hair’s wet,” Theo mumbled with a barely-there smile. Your cheeks stained with the heat of being caught as his thumb ran taxing circles over the delicate skin of your wrist. “You went for a swim?”

His tired eyes lifted with question as you glanced down to the water dripping from the ends of your hair. Collecting across his forearm and sliding along the shifting muscles beneath. But he didn’t care, eyes still floating across your face as though he’d finally found his resting place.

“Sorry,” you breathed, reaching out to brush the water from his skin. But his fingers collided with yours, guiding you to a halt.

“Your skin feels like ice,” he murmured, tangling your fingers, only to bring them to his lap. Resting your joined hands atop his book and drawing you towards him, “come here.”

Theo shuffled over, guiding you down softly beside him, his hand still firmly wrapped in yours. You let him direct you, fitting snugly into the couch’s corner. He looked to you, an unguarded affection in his eyes as he watched you settle in.

Once he could feel you beside him, was certain you wouldn’t disappear if he blinked, he peeled off his sweater. Pulling it over his head, making a further mess of his already sleep ridden hair.

He held it out for you, easing it over your arms, your head. Enveloping you in something that was so completely his; the way he wanted you to be. Hands lingering at the sweater’s edges with sincerity, pulling it down until he knew you would be warm.

You smiled at the unexpectedness, settling back into the couch, his hands steering you back. Head lolling against the cushions as your eyes found his, the way they always did. He looked back at you with equal surrender.

“You’re reading about me,” you whispered. Eyes delirious under the candlelight, drinking him in. Softness spilling through your chest.

“Trying to. I like to be familiar with my favourite topics,” his shy smile grew. Head sinking further into the couch as he turned to face you properly. Watched you for a moment; the cold sting of wind across your cheeks thawing at his words. His usually guarded eyes faltered. “Have you thought about it?” he whispered, sounding much braver than he felt. “What I said last night?”

You nodded, eyes drifting from him. Going somewhere deep within yourself. He wished you would take him with you, let him see it for himself. He could’ve well done it, but he hung back, knowing it was wrong. Knowing that at least something between you needed to stay sacred to one, without belonging to the other.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me,” you returned after a moment. The path of Theo’s thumb against your wrist drawing you back to him once again. But still you wouldn’t look at him.

“You won’t hurt me,” he assured, fingers trailing down to brush yours.

“You don’t know that,” you countered, looking down at your hands. The way his fingers danced across the top of yours. How you reached for his even when you wished you wouldn’t.

“Neither do you,” he answered. Knowing he was right when your eyes finally lifted to his once again.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He could see how afraid you were; for him, of yourself, losing the both of you along the way. Every jagged edge that was keeping you away from him. How deeply your care ran. He knew it then; that he would follow you down there, of his own accord. Even if it was foolish, even if it doomed him. He wouldn’t close his eyes, he wouldn’t struggle. Not if it meant his last breath would be yours to keep.

“Then it will be my mistake to make,” he decided. One hand leaving yours, reaching to tuck a loose strand of damp hair behind your ear. Relishing in the way you hugged his sweater tight to your bones. “You can’t decide if I get to love you,” his eyes didn’t dare stray from yours, “I've already made up my mind.”

His words demolished any of your lingering doubts. You fell into him completely, sinking in the sureness of it all. The unwavering way in which he let it leave him; that he wanted to love you. Perhaps even already did. He watched you carefully, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips, fingertips trickling down your neck.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

That was all it took for you to leave it all behind. Everything you had resisted these past weeks, every part of him you’d stopped yourself from touching, basking in. You felt as though the moon had made its path early. Utterly consumed by him as you nodded, nose brushing his as you suddenly grew aware of just how close you had become.

“Please.”

His lips fell against yours within an instant, hungering for you. It almost broke you, caught you alight. Fire spreading from his lips and igniting you after weeks of kindling touches, glances. Hands threading through your hair as he drew you into him. The two of you barely able to breathe from the unbreakable warring of your lips. Your hands flying to his jaw, pulling him closer to you.

You were tired of resisting him, denying both of you of what you wanted most. It wasn’t long before he had hooked his hands beneath your thighs. Pulling you across his lap as you pressed into him, feeling all of him beneath you.

Your desperation was only mirrored in the ferocity of his kiss. A chain left from your lips to the corners of your jaw. Rough kisses smattered across your skin as his hands began to roam. Pushing up the hem of his sweater, curious fingers tracing your sides. You shivered against his touch, your hands travelling the soft skin of his neck. Drifting up its back to tangle through his hair, pulling him inconceivably closer.

In a matter of minutes you found yourself in an abandoned wing of the Slytherin dormitories. Being set down softly atop the bed as Theo hovered over you. The room utterly devoid of light save for a sliver of moonlight from the lake’s windows.

“You’re sure?” Theo asked against your lips. Though from the rasp in his voice, he was barely holding it together to be able to ask the question at all. You could feel him pressing against your thigh, the sensation dizzying as you gasped against him.

“I'm yours.”

Theo groaned at the tremble in your voice, the restraint from the past month dissipating nearly completely as he made quick work of your clothes. Your hands flying to his belt as he pulled his sweater over your head. Lips refusing to leave each other’s, fingers working blind. His hands greedy as he trailed the new skin he’d yet to touch. Both of you driven to madness until nothing remained between either of you.

Sweat and skin pressed against one another as he rolled his hips into yours. Each rock of his hips drawing a gasp from you as you struggled against him, wanting nothing more than to build the friction.

Theo only simpered, enjoying how badly you needed him after denying the both of you of each other for so long. How unashamedly you clung to his arms, the muscles straining as he held himself above you.

The length of him almost tore you apart as he pushed himself into you. Bottoming out as both of you inhaled sharply against one another. A pained sound leaving you in the rush of air from your lips, he faltered.

“Are you alright?” Theo’s eyes flickered open, blinking away the lust that had consumed them as concern overtook everything else. You nodded, adjusting to his size as his eyes softened for a moment, his hand coming to rest against your cheek.

“I won’t move until you tell me to,” he breathed, his eyes falling closed as he rested his head against yours. The pad of his thumb tracing the slopes on your cheek, your jaw.

“I know,” you whispered against him.

A tender kiss pressed to your lips as Theo gave you time. Your hands tangling in his hair, bringing him down to you for a while until he pulled back for a moment. Watching as the moonlight fell across your cheek. Tracing it with his fingertips. Wrapped up entirely by how beautiful you looked beneath him. The light spilling across your skin, catching in your eyes.

You nodded tenderly, his lips pressing against the corner of your own. His eyes flicked up to yours, as he continued to press his lips along your skin.

“You’re all I want,” he breathed, smoothing his fingers through your hair before he kissed you once more.

His lips strayed again, wandering down to the skin of your neck. Hips pressing into yours as he pushed himself deeper. Heat erupted from where he buried himself within you, the sensation buzzing through your body in waves. Pushing the air from your lungs, making you choke on your own breath. Your head falling against Theo’s shoulder, lips parting soundlessly at the fire erupting across your skin. Unable to remove yourself from where you hid in his neck. Each roll of his hips only deepening the feeling.

His hand found the side of your neck with tender fingers. Trailing up to the underside of your jaw as he brought you back, guiding you to look at him. Pulling you into him further while you shuddered against him. Lips still parted and struggling to meet his eyes.

The sight was enough to send Theo over the edge, his pace growing irregular as his thumb brushed your bottom lip. His eyes completely misted at the sight of you before him; of what he was doing to you.

And as you tangled yourself into him, pulling him suffocatingly close, you tried to drown it out; that feeling.

That you had tried, and failed, to save him; and now could only love him.

Keep an eye out for Chapter Five here, or comment to be added to the tag list for future updates <3

Taglist: @hemlockmuncher @hoeforvinniehackerrr @moonlightttfae @thecraziestcrayon @itssomeonereading @weird123abc @dulcesfolklcre @amongemeraldclouds @mrsriddles-blog @cumberbitchhhh @rabbitholeee @diorandcigaddict @lovelyygirl8 @elsie-bells @thegirlwhosimpstoomuch @camille-1019 @simping-for-marvel @slytherinboysappreciation @leona-hawthorne @liaaanie @not-so-bad-ass @wildestdreamslover @nat1221 @melllinaa @aykxz98 @chgrch

if i missed anyone please let me know!

[farfromstrange]

@fairydust022 (Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason) thank you so much for your request! I’m sorry it took so long, but you gave me a lot of leeway with this, so I wasn’t sure what to write that you might enjoy until I ultimately settled on just very ‘I love you so much my heart bleeds for you’ morning sex. That’s my favorite kind of daisies and roses bouquet. I hope this is at least a little like what you were hoping for!

Over a Cliff

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Request: A bouquet of… peonies, daisies and roses

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, morning sex, neck-holding (not choking), lots of tooth-ache inducing talk about love, fluff (but the deep, emotional kind)

WC: ~740

The air you breathe is heavy and tainted with the scent of sex. Blood rushes through your veins at hypersonic speed, so thick it sticks to your insides like super glue. His heart hammers against your back, syncing with the erratic rhythm of your own, and with every thrust of his hips, he melts into you like hot iron.

Matt reaches for your hand, his calloused fingers so gentle against your sensitive skin. Your fingers disappear underneath his, intertwined fingers tangling in the silk sheets.

You could write sonnets about how the morning sun caresses the thirteen freckles on his nose, or how his hazel eyes sparkle with just the slightest hint of forest green. You’re no poet, not even a writer, but he makes you want to put all of your feelings into an anthology. How he feels, how he sees you in a way that exceeds his lost vision, how he puts his palm against your chest—right there—to hold your heart in his hand when he makes love to you, how he kisses you with those plump lips you once could only dream about as if you are the only source of air that sustains him; he loves you so deeply, so wholeheartedly and unconditionally it is beyond scary, and yet it consumes you. From your head to your toes, his love consumes you.

Teeth scrape the nape of your neck, over your pulse point to your earlobe, and you let out an almost desperate moan. He used to fuck you harder than that. He used to bend you over and force an indentation of your naked body into the mattress. And he’d do it, probably, if it weren’t eight in the morning—if you weren’t still half asleep and so fucking needy for each other that he couldn’t help himself but have a taste of his favorite angel. Because that’s what you must be, an angel of the lord. There is no other way someone as good as you would ever choose him, someone he often claims is a lost cause, even if that’s not what you see.

“There is no me without you,” you once said to him. He was bloody and bruised then, head tilted up at you like he couldn’t fathom why you stayed, why you were still staying. “Let me love you,” you begged, “because you deserve to be loved, and I am right here. So, please...”

And against all odds, he did.

When you look at him, you see a man who’s been broken. A man you’ve had the pleasure of putting back together. And a man who knows better than anyone to destroy you in a way that leaves you aching for his cock for days because that’s how he loves you.

Matt loves you with fleeting touches, when he puts his head on your chest, when he hugs you, and with your fingers intertwined, but he also loves you just like this, with his cock so deep inside you that you’re sure you won’t be able to walk the next day.

He moves at a pace that’s almost too agonizingly slow, his cock nestled comfortably inside your wet cunt. He pulls his hips back, about halfway, then thrusts back in. It’s like you were molded to accommodate him. His thick, veiny cock, the very object of your pleasure whenever he takes you like this, fills every inch of you like he was born to do it. “I love you,” he whispers.

You squeeze his hand, once for every word you utter, “I love you.”

His thrusts falter. “Don’t leave me.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes you crane your tired neck to look at him. His unfocused eyes are squeezed shut, and he damn near shudders when you reach back to tangle your free hand in his tousled locks. “Never,” you whisper.

You made this promise before, and you intend to keep it.

You’d die for him. You’d live for him. You’d go to the ends of the earth for and with him, and you would follow him over a cliff if that is where the road leads him.

As if reading your thoughts, he drives the point home by thrusting back in. The breath dies in your throat where his hand now comes to rest. He feels your pulse, the vibration of your vocal cords as you moan for him, and he continues to hold you like the unwavering pillar of strength he is as you fall apart, writhing—crying—on his cock.

[savannahsdeath]

hii i love ur stories, and i was wondering if you could do a one-shot where ellie won't admit it, but she LOVES being a sub and just listening to you 🫣

SUB!TOP!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! sub!top!ellie, oblivious!reader, making out, a liiiitttleee of thigh reading, js smut

writers note: im a sucker for dom!ellie but my first req was sub!ellie and now it just has a separate place in my brain.. yeah, i need both. switch!ellie lover i guess💪💪 also this ones sub!top!ellie because im soooo in love w her like awshhzhsv

you always saw ellie as the firm, rough and confident one. as the 'don't tell me what to do' one. and definitely the straight-forward one. you wouldn't even think it's the complete otherwise, especially not while grinding on her lap. your lips were connected for a few minutes now, and everytime you pulled away to catch your breath a line of saliva built a bridge between you. you were needy, ellie desperate and the whole situation really messy. quite a combo.

"ellie..." you whined after freeing your tongue.

she pulled you back into her, holding onto the back of your neck. "what is it, doll?"

"mhh-" a week sound escaped your mouth, as you struggled to calm down and not act as if you just ran a marathon (because you didn't, of course, but that's how you felt). "touch me..."

you didn't realize she kept her hands only on your head because she was shy. you never thought she could be shy at all. your request, though, awakened something in her. she hungrily slid her slim fingers beneath your shirt, where they rubbed soothing shapes into your skin.

"like that?" she laughed, or at least you guessed she did, because the sensations made it hard for you to tell.

your answer was a one word, but a keyword. "more."

with that, her hands unfastened your bra and threw it somewhere on the ground. she turned you around, making you lean your back on her chest. your shirt covered the scene - her playing with your hard nipples, that didn't feel so sensitive until now. her hair fell on your face, slightly covering it, as she bowed her head to kiss your neck. your pussy sent a needy impulse through the rest of your body, signaling you this is what you needed, before the pulsating changed it's message to a 'not enough'. ellie seemed to notice it, and one of her hands untied the knot of your cute pyjama-shorts. the elastic at your hips widened to make room for her hand, and it carefully slipped underneath the waistband, though stayed on top of your underwear. she followed the wet path with her middle finger, arriving to it's source. she didn't put any pressure onto your body, leaving you unsatisfied.

"please- please, do it." you nodded, fighting the urge to press her hand towards you.

she was more than happy to do it, her hand avoiding now also your panties and making contact with your bare body. you shuddered at the coldness she brought with her, but things quickly got heated.

your head found support in her shoulder, resting on it, as her pointing finger rubbed your clit and the next two lazily waited at your entrance, collecting everything that came out of it.

"do you want me to do it?" she asked. it wasn't the taunting, teasing, playful tone. it was a concerned, shy and hesitating one. one you weren't used to hear from her.

you frowned, wiping your wet, drooled mouth with the palm of your hand. "are you... really asking me that?" you wanted to add '...or am i dreaming?' but that was too much for you now, and your throat refused to work.

"i only want to do things you want me to do." she whispered, sounding almost ashamed about admitting that.

she continued the trail of sappy little kissed on your neck, somewhere where the vocal cords are, and you thought that's the main reason they're not working.

you couldn't hide your surprise but stayed quiet, though not really by choice. she thanked god you couldn't feel her own wet spot, which was probably bigger than yours and still growing each time you asked her to do something for you. even if your commands weren't out of your dominance, even if you had no idea how they turn her on, she only waited for you to ask for more, or less, anything would satisfy her, as long as she can satisfy you.

[marshmallowmusing]

FIC REC FRIDAY:

“ showering together „

back to the spicy stuff, so minors dni! this week’s theme came about because i read two shower centric fics in a row that led me to seek out more, and here we are. despite all having essentially the same outline i was impressed with the variety of premises, toned, and positions in these, it was really fun to read them all around the same time.

sweet dreams tn

by @a-leg-without-fear 18+

• you’re cleaning up after a mission and logan sneaks into the shower with you. equal parts tender and hot, really perfectly balanced to me! this one made me crazy crazy

guard dog

by @ovaryacted 18+

• you look super pretty at the club and logan watches jealously, but only he gets to take care of you at the end of the night. the contrast of how sweet on you he is to his gruffness to the rest of the world is delicious<3

shower sex

by @slushycookie, 18+

• “let me do all the work.” you’re both dog tired at the end of the day, but that doesn’t deter logan from making you feel good. this one aches, really viscerally written!

pine-scented soap

by @lostinlovingrevery 18+

• logan interrupts your shower. lots of casual, comfortable intimacy here, really love the tone of it — plenty of fun playful details, logan fixated on scents<3

reunited

by @zoovweemomma, 18+

• you’ve been away on a mission and you missed logan so much. he persuades you into the shower and you have your way with each other. the eagerness of both you and logan is a delight!

holy shower

by @adelliet 18+

• your water’s not working so you use your neighbor’s shower. when logan ends up in there with you, things get heated. i am never immune to that man’s white shirt, particularly not when wet.

+ bonus bath:

relax

by @pandapetals

• couldn’t resist sharing this gem alongside the others! you’re taking a bath to unwind when logan joins you. he behaves himself, but the vulnerability in this was so sweet<3

thank you to all the writers for sharing your time and talents posting your works for all of us to enjoy, it’s appreciated! if you read any of these make sure to like/reblog/comment on the fics themselves to give the authors some love 🤍 check back on fridays for more! lmk if there’s a particular theme you’d like me to seek out and i’ll keep an eye out for fics that fit<3

[acid-ixx]

update !

a/n: yall im incredibly sorry for the extremely long delay for chapter 3, it's literally exceeding 7500 words and it's not even finished 😭 im also adding in the fact that writer's block is really kicking my ass and i cant for the life of me focus much nor am i ever satisfied with my countless drafts (literally had to rewrite so much). i swear im not losing interest in dc (or the series) it's just these days have been really hard to me hehe

uhm if u guys want a teaser, then look below !!! (spoilers duh)

the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.

with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.

it will always be innately lonely, and cold.

yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.

no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.

and most importantly—

no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.

a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.

it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.

but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.

for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.

the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.

[meo-eiru]

God I am absolutely obsessed with the idea of Micah and a genuinely devoted/believer darling. Also, a potential AU with Micah and Lavi fighting over the same darling a la Exorcist. I would LOVE to see those two fight.

(TW NONCON - I got carried away. I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable, I love your characters so much. This got me out of a writers block!)

She was overjoyed to join the convent, clutching all her worldly possessions in a little sack. Barefoot, more than a little nervous, conscious of her hatless state, she bowed and stuttered apologies to the nuns who assessed her. She’s a true believer, and standing with clasped hands and a tired, bright smile underneath the yawning stained glass windows feels like a dream come true. She’s unworthy, but she feels determined. Her past was a mess, a series of tragedies and mistakes, but as she stared up at the glints of sunset streaming through the lurid reds and greens of the glass, she felt hope, bubbling and unfamiliar, blooming in her chest.

Then Micah passed by, like an angel clad in priest's clothes, and her blood turned to ice. After being momentarily stunned by his statuesque beauty, the exquisite curve of his cheeks, the lush glint of the dying sunlight on his hair, she felt her stomach drop. Some ancient instinct was trying to warn her against his piercing gaze, some animal part of her reacted to the miniscule traces of raw, predatory interest he carefully schooled behind his smooth and calm smile. She stumbled back, automatically, and bowed her head as a nun chastised her. She spent the evening in her new room rebuking herself as she carefully laid out her uniform, tracing over the fabric in wonder. To act so rudely to the head priest, to have such impure thoughts, just what was she thinking? Her excitement was dampened – but just barely. This place would be the making of her, she was certain.

But then things became complicated.

She was a novice, yes, but somehow it struck her as odd how she always got assigned to clean Micah’s private quarters. She felt his eyes on her as she swept and scrubbed the floors. She could hardly admit to herself how drawn she was to his beauty, his deep, steady eyes, his lips like rose petals. She stole furtive glances at his profile as he bent over his desk, absorbed in his writing. She felt her heart flutter, task forgotten under her hands, and her expression would go slack with admiration. He was glorious in his crisp white robes, like a painting of the angels themselves. Then his eyes would snap to hers, and shame flooded her as she dropped her gaze. She must have had some wickedness in her heart, she berated herself to the sound of her own heartbeat, because she imagined there was a sensuous trace of mirth on those lips. Holy lips, she reminded herself harshly. She ducked her head and answered his warm, calm questions with short and stuttered replies. She didn’t see the way his eyes roamed over her body as she cleaned on her hands and knees, didn’t notice the way he adjusted his robes over his lap, the miniscule tightness in his voice.

Then, one night, with her shoulders hunched as she scrubbed the spotless floor, she became aware of Micah standing slowly. She didn’t look, but heard his swift footsteps cross the room behind her.

Then the heavy, sorrowful click of a lock.

She startled, whipped her head around, and found him staring down at her with an expression she had never seen before. It made every nerve in her scream with an urgency she had never experienced before. Dazed, she sat up, wiped her sopping hands hastily on a cloth, and hesitantly tried to summon her voice. How naive she was.

It ended with her own breathy moans echoing on the austere wooden panels of room, blind panic and pleasure mingling as he licked her neck. His fingers rolled her nipple, tugging gently, slow and torturous, as if to distract her from his other hand pumping in and out of her wet cunt. His hard, supple body was over hers, trapping her to his soft bed effortlessly. His skin was hot, almost feverish, where it met hers. The noises her body was making made her feel tense and weak all over, and all the while Micah’s steady, rich voice blew against the shell of her ear.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? All those soliticious looks. Hm? Go on, admit it.” He was breathing hard, and as he dragged her closer to yet another climax, her voice was choked and pitched as she tried to protest.

“N-no, I – this is wrong, ah-“ Her legs trembled uncontrollably, and his laughter was low and mocking on her skin.

“Admit it.” His voice was hard and brooked no room for argument. She shuddered as he gripped her hair, pulled it back roughly, her pleas dying on her lips. She swallowed hard, her voice meek and brimming with self-contempt.

“I want it,” She sniffled at last, guilt racking her body alongside white hot pleasure. She felt the tears rolling down her face, and she thought in a haze that she could feel his lips curling on her skin. "Ah-! I want it!"

The way he was also so remarkably calm afterwards, while she was a spent, shaking mess, fluids dribbling out and staining his white sheets. The way he would trace her face with his delicate, holy hands - she fought back the instinct to flinch - and the measured, reasonable cadence of his voice, as though nothing untoward had occured. It made her conviction wilt and falter, her head swimming with doubt. Guilt seemed to creep over her and seep into her bones. She felt the heavy weight of responsibility, and her eyes brimmed with fresh tears.

“We wouldn’t want the others to know about your corruptive tendencies, would we?” He said dryly, tracing circles on her back as he slowly closed his robes over his body again. “But don’t worry. I can help you, little flower.” When he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, she wondered in silent terror if it was all just a dream.

Tumblr is crazy because sometimes you'll find the most deliciously written scrumptious fanfic ever only to see it's from an anon. It's like an angel came down to bless you but you can't see their face because of the holy light surrounding them

Like my god anon this is so good I was melting. I desperately NEED Micah to pull my hair as he orders me to confess my dirty thoughts. The way he's the one who starts it, the way he just casually puts his clothes back on like nothing happened and the way he threatens you is just so...... This man is ruining my life and i'm so happy about it

Also something I personally love, since I haven't fully explained how the two of you met, you guys always come up with your own way of meeting him and it's always such a delight to see. I love reading all of them.

[quinloki]

I am cupping your face in my hands, while I write about your favorite Blorbo fucking the soul out of you.

It’s okay. You’re so good. There’s no shame in the sweet rush of blood, there’s nothing bad about the shiver that makes your legs twitch.

There’s nothing morally wrong about the dreams you have later, imagining all the possibilities and the heady scent of sweat and sex.

Whether you picture it all soft and clean, or grimy and messy, doesn’t matter. Whether you prefer the soft kisses and gentle caresses or the wet splatter of drool and snot, doesn’t matter.

If there is consent, or coercion, power dynamics or equal delights, whether pleasure is ripped from your bones against your will or teased from the marrow of your bones with wet-eyes worship. It doesn’t matter.

You’re not bad, or wrong, or broken for delighting in the fantasies that dance sweetly within you. Consent is required in the playful folds of reality, but it is a nebulous and unnecessary thing in the deep cracks of fantasy.

So long as you aren’t a cruel, pretentious asshole toward the people who are gently cupping the faces of their sweet readers in their hands, then you’re doing good, even if such delights aren’t your thing.

They don’t have to be, and I hope you find the writer you need, that can hold your hand warmly and take you on a journey with them.

You are good and darling and I know you’re trying your best so hang in there for me. I’ll do all I can to help, and we’ll get through the next year together.

With a little more smut, a little less guilt, a little more confidence, and a little less shame.

[sugarygetoo]

divine.

-> pairing: nanami x fem! reader

-> summary: the moment you walk down the aisle, nanami realizes just how deeply in love he is with you.

-> cw/ tw:  nothing (suprisingly lmao).

-> wc: 430 (dang, i fell off T-T)

-> song inspo: die with a smile - lady gaga, bruno mars.

-> an. suprise! it's yena! yes, i'm alive, yes i wrote this, yes, this sucks. i suck at writing fluff, but what are you expecting from someone who's 20 and still never even held hands with a boy romantically (please help me, i want to stop being single PLEASE)💀😭

starting a new masterlist for certain fics that were inspired by certain songs, so make sure to keep an eye out for what is basically my way of giving out song recs lmao

apologies about not writing more often, i'm just much more of reader then i am a writer so I've just been reading a crap ton, so I'm sorry!!!

forgive me, i'll write more angst i promise 🙏

main masterlist. | yena's playlist.

✎ xoxo, yena.

“i, i just woke up from a dream. where you and i had to say goodbye. and i don’t know what it all means. but since i survived, i realized wherever you go , that’s where i’ll follow.”

there were no words to describe the feelings that nanami feels in his body right now. 

you are so, so beautiful. 

as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him, he feels as if everything around him has disappeared, all he could see was you. from the way your hair was done to how you look divine in that pristine dress as if it were made solely for you. 

his heart is beating so fast that he’s sure he might not even make it through the rest of the event. his hands are shaking from nervousness and wet from sweat. every step you took felt like cupid’s arrow shooting him in the heart over and over again, and everytime time he made eye contact with you felt like lightning shooting through his entire body.

you were everything that he’s ever wanted and more.

“nobody’s promised tomorrow.”

by the time you arrive right in front of him, nanami is sure he’s no longer breathing. you looked like the epitome of an angel and he couldn’t believe he was gifted the opportunity to stand in front of you and declare his love for you. 

holding his hand out for you to take, he couldn’t help but tighten his hold on your hand. the heat radiating of from it reminds him that this was real.

that this was all, very, very real.

he was getting married. to you.

“so i’m gonna love you like it’s the last night, like it’s the last night.”

he felt like crying. 

being able to hold onto you like this and stare into those eyes of yours that he loves so much. he’s sure his heart is beating loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, but he couldn’t care less. 

not when you stare at him as if he was the most precious person in the entire universe. not when you wrap your warm, comforting hands around his. not when the biggest, sweetest smile blossoms on your face as your eyes slowly turn red.

nothing else mattered. 

nothing, other then you.

“if the world was ending, i wanna be next to you. if the party was over, and our time on earth was through. i wanna hold you, just for a while.  and die with a smile. if the world was ending, i wanna be next, to you.”

@ sugarygetoo, all rights reserved.