#on the couch with the spare blankets and the tv on in the background

[charminglilly]

A Quiet Pouring

Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Summary: A cozy rainy day with Ellie filled with nostalgia and kisses

a/n: helllppp this is my first time actually posting one my of works to tumblr... also not proof read at all bc I'm lazy! 😋  Enjoy

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Now playing: Video games By Lana Del Ray

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You and Ellie were sitting cuddled up under a soft weighted blanket as a movie played in the background. You were more focused on watching the rain droplets hit the window and trickle down, racing each other till the bottom.

“Babe, this is the good part, focus.” Ellie said, grabbing your cheeks and gently turning your head to face the tv before returning to her position on your chest. You chuckled and ran a hand through her auburn tangles.

“Els, look, it's raining.” You said back, raising a hand to point at the window. Ellie spared the window a glance before sighing and turning to face you

“Yeah? So? What's the big deal, we weren’t planning on going out today” the freckled girl replied, sounding a little more irritated. You just sighed and slipped out from under her while she watched curiously on what the big deal was? You reached for the remote and paused the tv before turning back to Ellie.

“C’mon Elsss,” You said, pulling her up from the comfy couch.

“Hey! I was watching that!” Ellie protested and leaned away, trying to resist your pulling. Finally, you gave one last tug and pulled her up so that you were standing face to face with her. Quickly, before you lost your chance, you led Ellie to the front door and slipped on your shoes. Ellie quickly followed you and put on her beaten up converse that had definitely seen better days. You reached for the door knob and pulled it open before stepping out into the cold misty air. Ellie grabbed an umbrella and followed you.

“Babe, you forgot your umbrella and jacket.” She said handing you an umbrella but you continued walking to the street, ignoring her advances.

“Don’t need one, trust me babe,” Ellie just rolled her eyes and placed the umbrella on the floor and closed the front door, following close behind you. As the two of you walked towards the street the misty humid air twirled around your feet, creating an art piece beneath you two. 

You didn’t know why rainy days felt so special, so nostalgic. You grew up in the countryside where you would run outside with your siblings into the pouring rain. Joining the neighborhood kids, all of you would dance around like drunkies and jump in the puddles, drenching your shoes and pants in muddy water which your parents would only shake their heads in response to by the end of the day. But now that you are older and everyone has moved out of your little town in hopes of creating their own life and beginnings, you continue to hold the rainy day traditions close to your heart, that includes sharing them with Ellie.

Once you and Ellie reached the middle of the street, you came to a halt causing Ellie to crash into you, but you couldn’t be any more than unbothered. She watched you with judging eyes as you took in a deep breath of the cool air as it filled your lungs with a pinch of pain. With the seasons changing it would've been a good choice to wear a light jacket, but since both you and Ellie are irresponsible, you both seemed to have forgotten.

“Brrr, it’s fucking cold. How are you not freezing your ass off right now?” Ellie said as she wrapped her arms around herself, hoping the stubborn bumps on her pale arms would go away. You just chuckled in response and turned to face her. The rain seemed to pour harder as you looked into her piercing forest green eyes. She looked back at you with a glint in her eyes. You studied each freckle on her face, counting them one by one

1

2

3

4

5678…

Ah forget it

You studied the slope of her nose, the way it perfectly came to a bump at the end and the scar on her eyebrow. Who knows how she got it, with Ellie being Ellie, it could have been from just sitting down. You were the first to move, taking a small step forward. Ellie seemed to get the hint, taking her own step forward and releasing her arms, instead she placed them on the curve of your hips. You slowly traced your hands up Ellie's arms and came to a stop on her neck. She pulled you impossibly closer before she dipped her head into the crook of your neck. Her wet hair smelled of wet dog mixed with her perfume, a weird yet comforting smell that filled your nose. You wrapped your arms around her neck and she moved her hands to the small of your back.

“I love you,” the pale girl whispered into your ear, placing a few kissed below your earlobe. Chuckling, you replied,

“I love you more.” Ellie quickly began placing delicate kisses along your neck, ghosting it ever so slightly causing you to shiver and laugh harder. You felt Ellie’s lips curl into a smile as she reached your jawline. It was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the rain hitting the concrete road and Ellie's lips hitting your neck. Despite the silence, there was no reason for words, the air felt filled enough with the meaning behind every touch you and Ellie left behind. She soon reached your lips and kissed the corner of your mouth before pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Hey, you missed.” You claimed, pouting your lips a little. Ellie only chuckled before leaning closer and placing a proper kiss to your lips. The kiss started out slow, just the feeling on Ellie's chapped lips on top of your more soft lips. Your bodies pressed impossibly closer as the kiss grew more passionate. There was nothing sexual behind it, only the love you two shared for each other. You parted your lips, as Ellie slipped her tongue into your mouth. Your two breaths become one and the feeling of Ellie’s heartbeat against your chest lit something inside you. For the next few minutes, the only sounds that were heard was the teeth clashing between you and Ellie, then obviously the pitter patter of the rain surrounding the two. Ellie was the first to pull away, you chased her lips for a second longer, not wanting the moment to pass just yet, but soon pulled your head away. Ellie tried to catch her breath before bursting into chuckles.

“What!?” You said, raising your voice to be heard over the rain.

“We look so stupid standing out in the pouring rain and making out!” Ellie replied back, laughing even more. Her laugh never failed to make you laugh along with her, no matter the situation.

“No it’s not stupid, it's romantic. Have you ever watched a rom-com?”

“Of course I have, but only because you make me watch them! Now come on, let's go inside before we catch a cold.” Ellie said, pulling away and intertwining her hands with yours, leading you back up the driveway and to the front door. All you could do was sigh and follow her lead.

“You're no fun” You said, like a child who was denied a sweet at the candy store. Ellie only chuckled in response. She didn’t want to admit it, but she loved this moment, she loved it when you did the most out of pocket things because it made you happy. And seeing you happy made Ellie feel full of love.

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Idk how to end this so thats it, thanks for reading!!

[lyn31]

Movie Night

Summary:

It starts from watching a movie on opposite ends of the couch, but somehow, by the end, your head is leaning into Zayne’s side, and he just lets it happen.

AO3 link

Notes:

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader College AU, Fluffy I feel like at this point I'm just going through all the AU ahahaha but hey enjoy the short fluff!

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You don’t know how you managed to convince Zayne to do this. He’s been buried in assignments all week, practically glued to his laptop every time you saw him, so when you found him in the library earlier today—dark circles under his eyes, fingers flying across the keyboard—you made an executive decision.

“You need a break,” you declare, plopping down in the seat across from him.

“I’m fine,” he replies, barely sparing you a glance.

“You haven’t left this building in hours.”

“And?”

“And,” you huff, reaching across the table to close his laptop right in front of him, ignoring the way his eyes narrow at you,

“I’m kidnapping you for a movie night. No arguments.���

Zayne sighs, long and drawn out, but ultimately follows you back to your dorm’s common area.

Now, the two of you sit curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV screen illuminating the room as the movie’s thunderous action sequence unfolds. You steal a glance at Zayne—he’s sitting stiffly, arms crossed, looking more like someone forced to endure a lecture rather than enjoy a break.

“You’re allowed to relax, you know,” you murmur, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“I am relaxed,” he deadpans.

You snort. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why you look like you’re bracing for impact.”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps his gaze on the screen, but you don’t miss the way his fingers flex slightly against his bicep.

It starts with the snacks.

Zayne hasn’t touched the popcorn, which is just a crime, really, so you scoot closer, closing the space between you under the excuse of sharing. The side of your thigh presses lightly against his, and when he doesn’t pull away, you tilt the bowl toward him in silent offering.

He hesitates. His gaze flicks to the bowl, then to you, then back again. And then—finally—he reaches in, grabbing a small handful.

You barely hold back a victorious smile.

As the movie continues, so does your unintentional closeness. One moment, you’re leaning in to comment on a scene, and the next, your head somehow ends up resting against his shoulder. His body is always unnaturally cool, but with the soft blanket draped over both of you, the contrast is oddly comforting.

Zayne shifts slightly, and for a second, you think he’s going to pull away—but he doesn’t. Instead, his arm, which rests on the back of the couch, stays still behind you. His breathing is steady, and despite the fast-paced action on the screen, you feel your own heartbeat slow to match his rhythm.

The last thing you register before sleep takes over is the deep rumble of a dramatic monologue playing in the background.

Then—darkness.

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You wake to the sound of a muffled giggle.

Your brows furrow, mind still foggy, the weight of sleep pressing down on your limbs. There’s something warm beside you, something solid, and when you shift slightly, you feel the press of another person’s head against yours.

The realization slams into you all at once.

Your head is still resting on Zayne’s shoulder. But now… his head is resting against yours.

The blanket is still snug around both of you, tangled together like you meant to fall asleep that way. The TV screen sits on the home menu, long since finished with the movie. And standing in front of you, phone in hand, camera pointed directly at your faces, is your sister.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, barely containing her amusement. “You two are so cute.”

You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, she’s already tapping at her screen.

The movement finally rouses Zayne, his head lifting slightly as he blinks groggily. He takes a second to register where he is—who he’s leaning against—and then, just as quickly, sits up straight, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I should head back,” he mutters, voice still thick with sleep. He stands, stretching slightly before nodding toward you. “See you tomorrow.”

You barely process his words before the door clicks shut behind him.

And then—just as he’s walking down the hall toward his dorm—your sister, the menace, pulls out her phone again.

“Wait,” you say slowly, eyes narrowing. “What did you just do?”

She grins, turning the screen toward you.

Your heart stops.

There, perfectly framed, is a picture of the two of you fast asleep—your head tucked against Zayne’s shoulder, his resting against yours, the blanket wrapping around you both like something straight out of a stupid romance movie.

You slap a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late.

A muffled squeal escapes you.

And, down the hall, Zayne definitely hears it.

He pauses mid-step, then just shakes his head, lips twitching upward as he continues walking.

You, meanwhile, are left burying your face into a pillow as your sister cackles beside you, already setting the photo as her lock screen.

You are never living this down.

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Notes:

Finally! Another short one! I actually have a few more 👀 I'll post in a bit! Thanks for reading!

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: College AU list ✨

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: cussing, SA (off page & not described), anger, PTSD, Angst, argument.

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A/N: I do not understand this culture, heavy use of Google. If anything is offensive or incorrect please let me know so I can adjust T.S.T

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Part 15

Spare Parts - Part 16

The TV flickered in the dim room, casting blue light across the living room walls, bouncing softly off the cluttered table, the empty soda can, the half-eaten bag of chips between you two.

You were curled up on one end of the couch, knees tucked to your chest, a blanket pooled around your legs.

Coco lounged across from you, his arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, fingers tapping in time with the background music of the movie.

He’d picked some gritty 90s action flick, full of explosions and very questionable acting.

You’d tilted your head at him when he clicked Play, clearly unimpressed, but he’d just shrugged.

“What? It’s cinema, muñeca. You got no taste.”

You’d rolled your eyes, then settled in, still quietly unsure of how this whole “being close to someone” thing was supposed to feel.

But Coco? He didn’t push. He didn’t crowd you.

He just existed near you, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, a smirk on his mouth, and his eyes drifting over to you more than the TV.

Sometimes his gaze stuck a second too long, and when you looked back, he’d just raise an eyebrow like you were the weird one.

Coco’s phone buzzed on the table beside him. He leaned forward with a groan, his wounded shoulder moving stiffly.

“Damn, still feel like I got shot yesterday,” he muttered, grabbing the phone. “Mierda. Leticia.”

You blinked at him, from the kitchen where you'd gone to gather some ice for Coco's shoulder. “She okay?”

He didn’t answer at first, just hit Accept and held it up.

“What the hell you want, mija? You know how late it is?”

The sound of Letty’s voice crackled through the speaker—fast, slightly slurred, and way too loud.

“Chill, Pendejo, I’m just letting you know I’m crashing at Molly’s. Fuck.”

Coco leaned back again, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. “You better not be wasted, cabrona.”

“I’m not! Jeez! You always do this—”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah, teenage rebellion, got it.” He cut her off with a grunt. “Just don’t get arrested. I ain’t bailing your ass out tonight.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. Coco caught it, flicked his eyes to you, then back to the phone.

“I got company, so don’t be blowing up my phone, Leticia.”

“Ohhhhh,” Letty drawled. “Company company. Like, cuddling on the couch with muñeca company?”

You could hear her slightly slurred laughter through the phone, as you returned to the couch and handed off the ice pack.

Coco instantly sat forward, the phone half-muted with his palm.

“You got damn bat ears or what?” he muttered. Then, into the phone “Hang up, pendeja.”

“Use protection!” Letty sang. Click.

Coco stared at the phone in disgust before tossing it onto the table like it offended him.

“Next time she calls, I’m changing my number.”

You were trying—failing—not to laugh. You had your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking slightly.

He glared at you. “Don’t say it.”

You blinked innocently, holding your hands up in mock-surrender “I wasn’t going to.”

"Uh huh.” He slouched back again, pulling a throw pillow under his arm and settling in like he hadn’t just been emotionally harassed by his daughter.

“Sabes qué, you better be worth the embarrassment.”

You gave him a mock-offended look, pressing a hand to your chest. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, chiquita. I could be watching this movie in peace, with no one roasting me from across town.”

"You picked this movie.” You scoffed.

“Yeah. For mood. You know—vibes. Romance. Gunfire. Explosions.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was color in your cheeks now.

Coco noticed. He always noticed.

As the movie rolled on, he shifted slightly—closer this time. His fingers grazed your leg under the blanket, not in a way that demanded anything, just a quiet reminder he was there.

“You alright, muñeca?” he asked casually, eyes still on the TV.

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You always say that when you’re thinkin’ too hard.”

"Am I?”

“Mmhmm.” He looked at you now, one brow raised. “You wanna talk, or should I just keep makin’ fun of your height until you crack?”

You squinted at him. “Don't test me, I will punch you.”

“Nah, it’s adorable. You’re like... travel-sized.”

“Rude.”

“Facts,” he said, smug, stretching just enough to bump your shoulder with his. “Now shut up and watch the movie.”

You leaned toward him—just barely.

Coco smiled to himself, like you’d handed him the whole damn world.

The movie had long since ended—credits rolling while neither of you moved. Coco’s house sat still around you, dim and comfortably cluttered, lit only by the TV glow and the faint amber light of the street lamp bleeding through the blinds.

You were still curled against his side, his arm settled loosely around your shoulders.

He smelled faintly of tobacco and faded cologne, and even when he didn’t speak, his presence filled the room.

For a while, it was quiet. He was warm beside you. Safe. Steady.

But Coco Cruz had never been just that.

He shifted beside you. Slow. Intentional.

His good hand found your jaw—gentle fingers brushing the side of your neck as he tilted your chin just slightly toward him. His eyes weren’t teasing anymore, they were low, serious in that way that made your stomach twist.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that, chiquita, I’m gonna forget you don't like touchin' an shit.”

His voice was rougher now. Lower. The kind of tone that hit like whiskey—slow and burning.

He leaned in, his thumb stroking along your cheek. You didn’t pull away… but you didn’t move forward either.

Just froze, lips parted slightly, eyes wide.

That’s when he felt it—the hesitation.

Not fear.

Not rejection.

But the kind of stillness that spoke of uncertainty.

Of old wounds still tender.

He pulled back with a frustrated exhale through his nose, his jaw tightening as he sat back into the couch with a quiet thump. He ran a hand down his face.

“Mierda"

He didn’t look at you right away. Just stared across the room at nothing in particular.

His body had gone taut, wound up like a wire, like something in him was trying hard not to react.

“You let me kiss you, you let me hold you, you cook in my kitchen, you make my kid fuckin’ lunch—and now what?”

The sarcasm was back, sharp and fast, but the heat behind it didn’t feel cold. It felt disappointed. Not in you—but in himself, maybe.

“¿Qué pasa, muñeca? You scared I’m gonna ruin you? Too late for that, ain’t it?”

You flinched just slightly at the edge in his voice.

That’s when he really looked at you.

And all that tension in his shoulders sagged. His mouth softened.

“Nah. This shit ain’t fair.”

Something snapped behind your eyes.

That usual softness in you—the careful, gentle quiet, quick wit he was learning to love—cracked.

Not loudly.

Not with screams.

But with something sharper.

Harder.

Something that made the space between you two sting.

"Ruin me ?" You barely whispered

You sat straighter on the couch, your back rigid, fists clenched at your sides. Coco saw it. Felt it.

"You have no fucking idea what your talking about" you spat the words like venom at him.

Although, perhaps your anger wasn't all for him, maybe it had been building for so long, you didn't remember it wasnt him you where actually angry with.

"Years, literally years of my fucking life Coco, In some fuck-arse town in a shitty fucking relationship, because I didn't know my worth, because my value was beat out of me like some lame cowering fucking dog." Your breath came in ragged pants now, chest rising and falling with the weight of unspoken anger.

"Do you have any idea what it’s like to not be able to stop someone from fucking touching you?”

The words dropped like broken glass.

There was no tearful voice.

No shaking.

Just cold, furious clarity.

And that? That made his chest go tight.

Coco didn’t move at first.

Didn’t blink.

His arms hung by his sides, jaw twitching, mouth slightly parted like he might speak—but didn’t.

His eyes, normally quick with sarcasm or suspicion, softened in a way that looked almost pained.

His brows drew together like he’d just realized he touched a wound he didn’t know was still bleeding.

“Mierda...”

The curse was quiet. Barely breathed.

“Muñeca, I didn’t mean—”

But you stood. Not quickly, but with precision. Like you needed the space between you now.

Your voice didn’t tremble.

“You think I’m scared you’ll ruin me? I’ve been ruined most my damn life, Coco. The kind of ruined you don’t come back from. The kind where your skin doesn’t feel like it belongs to you anymore, no matter how many time you try to scrub that shit off.”

Coco stayed where he was, eyes locked on you, hands slowly rising—palms open—like he was afraid you might vanish if he moved too fast.

“Okay. Okay, chiquita.” He nodded, swallowing hard. “I hear you.”

"Do you have— fuck have you spent time reading and learning psychological—fucking—trickery to convince your own mind that your safe in your house—your own goddamn bed." Your eyes weren't in the room anymore.

Coco sat down slowly, easing onto the edge of the coffee table right in front of you—not touching, not crowding.

Just there.

Coco's body bent forward, elbows on his knees, like he was bracing himself against the weight of your words.

“You think I don’t see how careful you are? Every time I get close. Like you’re waitin’ for somethin’ bad.”

His voice was softer now.

Not sad—just raw.

“I grew up in places that break people. I broke people.” He gestured vaguely to himself, not out of pride, but matter-of-fact.

“I know what it means when someone flinches from a hand that’s meant to hold ‘em.”

He looked up at you.

Really looked.

“But you? You still brought your soft ass into my kitchen. You cooked. Cleaned. You made my damn house feel like a home for the first time in fuckin’ years. Took me outta the damn hospital and took care of my Pendejo ass, and then you still looked me in the eye like I was somethin’ worth trusting.”

Your anger started to slowly disapate, replaced by something colder.

“You don’t do that if you’re broken, chiquita. You do that if you’re strong as fuck.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t asking for forgiveness.

He was trying to understand.

And it was the first time someone hadn’t brushed it off or tiptoed around it.

The first time someone looked at your anger, your scars and didn’t get scared or offended.

"You better be one patient motherfucker"

His hand drifted toward you—but stopped mid-air.

He looked to your eyes for permission.

"How bout baby steps, muñeca?"

You nodded slowly "real fucking small ones" you almost smirked.

[sehtoast]

Forget Me Not (Homelander x Reader)

1.4k words | gender neutral reader

Ask Prompt: HL x gn reader. Where hl loses his memory and runs away to another state where he meets the reader 🙏

You were totally prepared to swing first and ask questions later. Of course, that was before you saw him. Standing there drinking from your milk carton at three in the morning, fridge light illuminating him against the darkness of your kitchen, was The Homelander himself

You hide the baseball bat before he turns to you, a droplet of milk dribbling down his chin. 

“You should really invest in whole milk,” he says, sloshing what little was left inside the carton. “Tastes way better.”

You could hardly believe the night had been real when you woke up the next morning.  But, sure enough, he was still there.

“So, how did I end up with The Homelander of all people in my house,” you’d asked nervously. Reality had finally set in and you both sat at the table to talk.

He looked at you like you had seven heads.

“What’s a ‘Homelander?’”

Yeah… That really did happen. If not for the fact he looked entirely serious with such a genuine curiosity in his tone, you’d have thought he was bullshitting you.

Somehow, some way, he’d lost his memory.  Ran away from wherever he was, showed up at your house out of all possible others.  He said it seemed more inviting, but he couldn’t quite explain why.  

You’d tried to explain to him how to find his way back to New York, how to find Vought Tower so that he could go home and get some help, but he seemed too afraid to leave.

“What if I get lost?”  He’d asked, eyes twinkling with nervous energy.  “You said it’s north-east, but aren't there a lot of things north-east? What if I get the wrong place?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you decided to let him stay.  Let him borrow some spare clothes that made him look much less… well, like a superhero.  You’re sure Vought would come looking for him eventually, so you might as well keep him safe and sound, right?

After helping him out of that suit, you can’t help but wonder if all super suits are total death traps.  If most heroes are padded up to look larger than life, but are really just plain as can be underneath.

Before he falls asleep in your spare room, he tells you the one thing he can remember.

“My name’s John…”

The next day, he follows you around everywhere.  You work remotely from home, and he sits next to you on the couch while you do.  The TV plays in the background while you cycle through tasks and emails, but his attention seems fixed on you entirely.  The clickety-clack of your keyboard fascinates him and he ends up curious as to how you type so fast, what you’re doing, what your code inputs mean.

He’s an interesting fella, curious by nature to the point he’s a total snoop.  You catch him in your bedroom on the third day, fingers trailing over your blankets as his gaze pans around the whole room.  It seems innocent enough, and he’s given you no reason to feel he’s out to hurt you.

When you ask him what he’s up to, he just shrugs, saying something… interesting.

“I wish I would've had a nice room when I was little…”

It conflicts with what you know to be true about him, but also makes you wonder if he’s starting to remember things.  You ask him to elaborate, but he can’t.  He presses his palm to his forehead as if he’s in pain and just shakes his head.  

“I don’t know. I just know I didn’t…”  He trails off, and you’re there to press a soothing touch to his shoulder.

You tell him not to worry too much.

You take him out grocery shopping one day.  He’s like a fish out of water.

He doesn’t know the first thing about navigating a store and doesn’t do much more than follow you like a lost puppy.  Hell, at the end, he doesn’t even know how to help the cashier with bagging.

He is, however, incredibly helpful when it comes to bringing everything in.  He is quite literally the one trip wonder, dangling every single bag from his arms and walking in as though they weigh nothing.

You could get used to that.

You cook a proper dinner that night and he helps.  Well, ‘help’ is a strong word.  More like he watches and hands you the occasional ingredient.

You’re fascinated by him.  He seems oblivious to normal living skills, but a part of him seems to genuinely want to learn them.  More than that, he seems so… peaceful.  You recall his recent erratic behaviors in the public eye, his meltdown on his birthday, his snippiness with interviewers…

But he seems so much less tense now.  Maybe it was the memory loss.  Maybe he just likes the quiet.  Who knows?

What you do know is, by the second week, you hope he never leaves.  You’re almost praying that his memory never returns despite knowing that's selfish.

It’s nice to share your space with someone.  It’s nice to have him around.

He’s sweet despite his dramatics.  Helpful and eager.  He’s company, and it’s been… a very long time since you’ve felt like you weren’t alone.  You didn’t quite live in bumfuck nowhere, but it was close enough that he was a blessing.

Your heart sinks on the day he comes downstairs wearing his suit.

He looks at you with those big blue eyes, but within them is a sadness. 

There is recognition floating around in there, swirling with that determined fire that you’ve seen on so many screens before. Yet he still looks so melancholy.

You offer him his morning coffee, a shared routine between you both for the past two months, and he sips at it quietly.

He used to hate it, but now..?

“Are you going back?” You ask after some time, not daring to meet his eyes.

Your heart sinks when he tells you he is.

“I’ll miss you…”

He struggles to reciprocate the words properly, but… he leaves you with a tight hug before his departure.

You don’t know why you cry so hard when he goes.  No, no…

That’s a lie.  You do know.

You miss him terribly.  

You miss him for days, for weeks.  

You watch the celebrations for his return.  You touch the screen of your laptop, wishing he was still at your side, still peering over your shoulder, still riding alongside you in your car.

But he isn’t.

And you don’t think he ever will be again.

You learn to breathe again after some time.  You feel good enough to crawl out of bed, collected enough to clean up the house a little.  You fall into your hobbies again, but nothing feels right.

It’s all just… dull.

And you hate that you know why.

You hate that you pray every night to hear your fridge door shutting, to hear the clinking of glass in your cabinets, to hear him step on that creaky floorboard on the steps.

But you don’t.

You don’t hear any of it.

Eventually you just stop listening.

Which means you don’t hear what slips through your window.  There are no footsteps, no creaks or cracks.  You don’t hear his nervous breaths.

You only feel when he lowers himself onto the other side of your bed.  You about jump out of your skin, ready to reach for the bat by your nightstand until you realize just who has come to see you.

You throw yourself at him entirely, hugging him tight, arms and legs wrapping around him to squeeze and squeeze and never let go.  He holds you close, nuzzling into your neck.

He tells you how much he’s missed you.  That he misses the quiet of your life together, that it was the nicest thing to happen to him in… well, his whole life, really.  He thanks you for taking care of him, tells you he wants to do the same for you.

Over the next few days, you have a visitor every night.

Within a few weeks, he kisses you for the first time.

After six months, you are a resident of Vought Tower, living with him in his penthouse.

He is different in this environment.  More demanding, more intense, but not to you. 

No.

When he comes back, when he comes home, he falls into your arms much like you did the night he came back to you.  He leaves his burdens at the door, safe and sound with you.

The peace didn’t necessarily come from losing his memory. It didn’t come from the solitude of your old home, nor the routine of domesticity.

It came from you.

He found his peace with you.

[mama-waterlily]

Orchid

Addendum to Dahlia

This is an ABDL story with a much more soft, sweet tone. It does not contain any explicitly sexual interactions. All characters depicted are 18+

Lucy lay on her belly in the living room on the sofa. She held a soft, black stuffed bat in her arms; Ms. Batty, her favorite plushie. She was resting her head on an open coloring book, turned to the side and watching Blue's Clues on the TV. Her black pacifier bobbed in her lips as she gently kicked her feet, to the rhythm of a song when one came on in the show. Her feet, wrapped snugly in black stockings wiggled mellowly a few inches above the plain black diaper that hugged her bottom. She wore a black, cotton babydoll dress with a white collar that was decorated with prints of spiderwebs. The sleeves wrapped around the beginning halves of her soft hands, her fingers poking out with dark purple-colored fingernails. Her skirt was just barely long enough to reach her hips. The glass coffee table in front of her was covered with crayons, and a halloween-themed sippy cup sat on the floor next to where she lay, filled with cranberry juice, her favorite drink.

Lucy's tired eyes wandered to the cherry wood floor, dappled with the final traces of evening sunlight that shone through the leaves. Myra was usually home by now. Her thoughts wandered, yearning for the gentle warmth of her lover's embrace and the protective blanket of her arms. She squeezed Ms. Batty close to her chest, and placed the mouthpiece of her sippy cup in her lips to have a drink. It's okay. She's never gone too long. She reassured herself. She continued working on her coloring page as the comforting show from her childhood continued in the background.

About thirty minutes later as the sky had turned purple and the sun had set, Lucy heard a car pull up in the driveway. Her eyes lit up, and she looked out the window by the front door to confirm. She saw the scarlet of Myra's half-rim glasses on her cheeks as she collected her belongings from the passenger seat and held her phone to her ear. Lucy excitedly ran back to sit on the couch, placing a pair of Myra's spare glasses on her face and giggling. She cleared her throat and waited for the door to open.

Myra fiddled with her keys as she finished her phone call. Lucy could hear her muffled from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, no problem. Yeah, it sucks I had to stay late, but money's money, I guess. Alright, I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up the phone as she unlocked and opened the door. She wore a gray suit jacket with matching pants and a white button-up blouse underneath. Her golden, brown-tinted blonde hair fluttered just above her shoulders as she entered.

Lucy gave an adorable pantomime of a stern look and lowered her breath to her chest, doing her best "Myra-voice".

"You're late, young lady! Again!"

She couldn't hold it together, and broke out in laughter. Myra's face turned in a wide smile of delight as Lucy's contagious laughter spread to her.

"I do not sound like that! What are you doing with my glasses, silly girl?"

She removed her black, low-heel boots and approached Lucy, tousling her hair and lifting her up into a big, squeezing embrace.

"You look so adorable, Dahlia."

She kissed Lucy's forehead and looked into her eyes, removing the glasses from her face and placing them on the coffee table.

"Sorry I had to stay late, honeybee. I had so much to do and I've had to pick up so much slack since we've had so many people calling in sick lately."

Lucy smiled, holding up Ms. Batty and bobbing her head as she spoke for the plushie.

"That's okay! We missed you very much and we are very glad you're home."

Myra tried her best to speak through stifled laughter.

"Oh, well, thank you, Ms. Batty. And might I say, you're looking quite wonderful today. Did you do something new with your wings?"

Lucy gasped, forgetting about her stuffed animal bit. "Oh! Mommy, I wanna show you something!"

Myra placed her down as she picked up her coloring book, presenting it with a big smile. On the page was a pair of chibi-style skeletons holding hands. Lucy had drawn a set of red glasses on one, and a pair of black pigtails and a medusa piercing on the other.

"That's you, and that's me!"

Myra's eyes nearly watered as she looked at the picture.

"That's so wonderful, Dahlia! We'll hang it up for you later."

She sat down next to Lucy on the couch and held her close, wrapping one arm around her upper back. The other curled around her waist, resting her hand on her bottom, which she patted teasingly. She gently slipped two fingers into her padding, finding Lucy to be damp.

"Don't forget, we have to change you before we go to bed."

Lucy groaned at the inconvenience, her little voice carrying a glib affect. "Fiiiiine."

Myra gave a small chuckle and continued her pats.

"Did you have a nice day, Dahlia?"

Lucy nodded. "Would'a been better if you were here the whole time, but I had a good day. Did you?"

Myra took a deep breath, releasing it in a sigh.

"Stressful. But that's all okay, everything's better now that I'm here with you."

They lay in silence, cuddling on the couch. Lucy fiddled with the pacifier that was clipped to her dress as Myra continued to gently pat her bottom.

"You know I love you, Dahlia?"

Lucy nodded. "Mhm. Love you too, Mommy."

"You know you're not all those mean things I call you when we're playing?"

Lucy nodded again. "I know. It was my idea for you to say all that, remember?" She snickered.

"That's right, flower. Yes, it was." Myra chuckled.

She looked down at Lucy.

"Did you eat?"

Lucy responded with a nod.

"Did you take your meds?"

Lucy nodded again. "Did you?"

Myra nodded, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "I brought extra food to work. I figured they might pull something on me like this today." Her voice was tinged with irritation. Lucy kissed Myra's cheek, her way of assuring her that everything is okay.

Lucy relaxed fully in her arms, resting her head against Myra's chest. They air was silent aside from crickets chirping outside and cars passing by. Myra's pats gradually slowed as she began to doze off with Lucy pulled snugly against her. Lucy looked upward at Myra's sleeping face. She smiled, deciding to let her have a bit of rest after her long day. We have to change you before we go to bed. Myra's words passed again through Lucy's head.

I can do it myself. She thought. She'll be too tired.

Lucy giggled to herself, laying her head back down and reveling in the enchanting warmth of her dreaming lover's embrace.

I love you. Forever.

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

this is just a cute little epilogue i decided to write because i love these characters a lot.

also, my emotions were being really weird and i felt really bad for lucy because i didn't write any aftercare into dahlia, and just wanted to portray a bit of their loving relationship outside of the scope of bd/sm.

yeah it's sappy, but i'm a sappy girl. i love ordinary romance stories that aren't some grand spectacle. just the everyday joy of two people who love each other.

i hope y'all liked it, it warmed my heart to write.

[carmenberzattosgf]

we need to hear your thoughts on carmy with his gf in sub space !!! he’s such a dommy guy :(( i’d feel sooo safe with him. sexually and honestly even non-sexually! just being fuzzy with carmy :(

This has actually got me thinking on non sexual subspace with Carmy omg. ( I promise the full on sexual one with impact play is coming soon 😭 unforch I am a college student and have minimum free time)

Carmy makes you feel so so so safe. He cares for you so deeply, making you your favorite foods. When you fall into subspace with him it’s when your with him on the couch watching your favorite comfort show.

It had been a long busy week for the both of you, hardly having a spare second to be with each other. It’s his first evening off in weeks, and Carmy wants to spend it with you at home. By this point, he’s already made your favorite meal for dinner. He normally hates cooking off the clock, but for you? He will do it every single time.

After dinner he guides you over to the couch, laying on the couch first so he can wrap his arms around you. He already has the show loaded and ready to play on the tv.

Next, he takes a blanket and lays it over the two of you. You can practically feel all your worries melting away as Carmy wraps his strong arms around you, running his hands down your skin. The moment is silent. Just the both of you focused on the tv, relishing in the time together.

It’s when Carmy begins running his fingers through your hair that you start to slip. His movements are delicate as his hands move through your locks of hair. His rough fingertips massage at your scalp, and you’re done for, fully giving into that fuzzy feeling. You’re safe with him, wrapped up in his arms, so you let the world blur around you.

Carmen realizes what’s happening when your breathing becomes slow and deep, and when you basically melt against him. At first, he thinks you’ve just fallen asleep, but he leans over to see your eyes open, glazed over at the TV.

“Baby?” You don’t respond on his first attempt, too far gone to realize he’s talking. He brings his hair down from your hair to cup your cheek. His thumb strokes gently on the skin. “Baby, you with me?” He’s careful as he shifts his hand so your gaze meets his. Your pupils are blown wide as you look up at him. You can’t speak right now, and he knows that. “You feeling floaty? I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Always safe with me. Won’t let anything happen to you.”

Carmy lets your body settle back into him and he goes back to rubbing his hand at your scalp, slowly dragging his fingers through your hair. This continues on until you both fall asleep in each other’s arms with the show still playing on in the background.

[kwamiwayzz]

do u have any like, domestic? Jeckole hcs?

(Every domestic headcanon I have of them is when they're in their 20s-30s and living in LA, California)

When Jecka studies for med school, Nicole has gotten annoyed sometimes (because it's "all she does") but ultimately ends up doing things like giving her food while deep in the study grind and has also placed a blanket over her after falling asleep at her desk.

I also agree with a headcanon I saw awhile ago that Nicole would be willing to be "housewife" (but would never in a million call herself that lmao) for Jecka only. She'd be keeping the living space clean and all while Jecka would be out at work.

After Jecka's long shifts at work, she and Nicole go out to eat dinner as late as 1am.

Jecka would be the one decorating the apartment during the holidays.

Nicole would take care of the laundry while Jecka takes care of the taxes.

Sometimes they'd watch TV together on the couch and end up falling asleep while it's playing in the background. I mentioned this in another post but during the summer, Jecka and her long mane take up so much of the bed space that Nicole ends up finding herself on the floor the next morning. But during the winter time, Nicole steals all the blankets, leaving Jecka freezing her ass off.

They'd sometimes smoke together outside their apartment in silence, either after an argument or after a stressful day.

This one isn't exactly Jeckole, but whenever Emily comes to visit them, they almost always expect her to pick the lock to let herself in. Jecka has offered to give Emily a spare key, but she's rejected it several times.

--

Sorry if it's boring, Anon, I probably have more locked away in my brain somewhere. But these were the ones that were at the top of my head. Anyway, I had fun writing these up. Anything for soft/well-adjusted Jeckole.

[idksmtms]

closure (Kendall Roy x reader) - evermore series

A/N: Inspiration hits me like bird poop: impossible to predict, impossible to escape 

Summary: A year after your break up, Kendall contacts you trying to smooth things over. You’re having none of it. 

Word count: 2,600

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, angst, mentions of alcoholism/drug addiction, anger, cheating, break ups, heart break, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any Succession characters. I do not claim to own any Succession characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you first got the email from Kendall, you were tempted to delete it straight away without even bothering to read it. There was a reason he couldn’t contact you any other way. There was a very good fucking reason he couldn’t call or text or find you on your socials. The reason being that you had blocked him across everything. 

Finding out that your boyfriend had been so crossfaded that he made out with someone else thinking it was you was never something a girl wanted to hear. Yet one night that’s exactly the message you got from a mutual friend who had been with Kendall at the party he had chosen to attend. 

You had been calmly sitting at home in the penthouse apartment you had been sharing at the time. It had all been at his expense despite your discomfort. He had insisted that your entire relationship be at his expense, from every date to every milestone, and eventually you had simply begun to go along with it. 

It was late, somewhere around 2am if you remembered correctly (which you definitely did because it had become like some kind of flashbulb memory for you now). You had been on the couch, snuggled under this huge grey fleece blanket Kendall had bought for you when you had eyed it in the store. The tv was on in the background, playing some episode from a show you had watched one too many times already, and you were doom scrolling on Instagram when the message had come in. 

Your friend had tried to say it in a way that explained what had happened, as if they were already trying to defend Kendall and soften any blow that might have occurred. But you had read the words “kissed some other girl thinking it was you then went and leaned over the toilet to throw up for like ten minutes” and you sort of checked out. 

You had looked up and out of the array of floor-to-ceiling windows to the glinting lights of New York City, as if asking them if this was real. You had looked around at the apartment, at the blanket and the couch and even your hands, asking something in the universe to tell you that it wasn’t real. Then you read the message again, and again, and again, and you went through a million different reactions at the same time. 

You began to cry, feeling a deep stabbing pain inside you, at your very core. You threw stuff around, tossing the pillows off the couch, lobbing books off the dining table, launching the expensive tv remote down the room and listening to it shatter against the tile. You sat down and cried again, heaving sobs that bordered on screams. Then you got up and took every picture frame off the wall, piling them all up on the coffee table. 

You had eventually walked to your bedroom, staring at it like you had never seen it before. You lay down in bed, flat on your back and staring into the darkness. Eventually exhaustion took you to sleep despite the discomfort of your clogged nose and swollen eyes. 

In the morning you had woken up to an empty apartment. Kendall had surely crashed somewhere, on a friend’s couch or a hotel, or even in the street for all you cared now. You had done your morning routine like nothing had changed, gotten yourself breakfast like nothing had changed, then you began to make calls. Your best friend had a spare room you could crash in until you could find your own place to move into. A car would arrive within the hour so you could take everything you owned to your friend’s place (and the stuff you actually owned yourself could, frankly, fit easily in two suitcases). 

You packed everything up, left all your keys and cards on the counter, bade goodbye to the sweetheart of a doorman that you would miss more than anything else, and spent the entire car ride blocking Kendall on everything. And it was literally everything. All his numerous phone numbers, Instagram, Twitter, even TikTok and Snapchat. You never wanted to hear from him again. 

As you drove, you thought about everything that had led you to that point. You remembered meeting Kendall at a bar. He had been in his suit, just out of the office, and he was sitting there staring at a tumbler of vodka on ice. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face seemed to droop with a kind of sadness you had never felt before. 

You had sat down near him, not directly next to him, but close enough that he would have noticed the movement. You had shown up too early for a girl’s meet-up and had decided to have a drink at the bar as you waited for them. Once you had ordered, something fruity that didn’t taste like alcohol, he had signalled to the bartender and said “put it on my tab” before gesturing in your direction. You swivelled in your seat and smiled at him, all head tilt and sugar sweetness. He had smiled too then, small but happy, as if he was comforted by your reaction. 

“Thank you,” you said, before reaching your hand out. “I’m Y/n.” He seemed a little surprised (though elated) that you had continued the conversation, and leaned closer to shake your hand. 

“Kendall,” he responded, and you nodded, bringing your drink closer and taking a sip after it was deposited in front of you. “What are you up to on this fine evening?” He asked, though his smile was almost a little sarcastic as he said it. 

“Waiting for my gals,” you told him, teasing and jokingly dragging out your words. “We’re supposed to be meeting in an hour here but I am way too early as per usual,” you sighed. 

“It’s good to be punctual,” he nodded, pursing his lips before taking a sip from his glass. You offered him a little ‘mhm’ before moving to sit on the stool directly beside him. 

“What are you doing here tonight then?” You asked in return, turning so you could rest your elbow on the bar. 

“Waiting for a pretty girl so I can buy her a drink, guess I won on my first shot,” he responded, and you just burst out laughing, pressing your hands to your face as you curled in on yourself. 

“That… was horrendous, Kendall,” you breathed out between laughs, shaking your head at him. 

“Ugh, I know, I’m sorry,” he huffed, chuckling as he dropped his head and shook it as well. Your cheeks hurt from laughing but as it ebbed away you looked right into his eyes. 

“So, for real, why are you here?” You asked, taking a sip from your drink. 

“Had kind of a shit day at work, needed a drink to take the edge off,” he shrugged, and you nodded, a little ‘ah’ of understanding leaving your lips. 

“That’s fair,” you sighed, glancing down at the glass he rolled between his hands. 

“It is better now though,” he smiled, “cheesy as that might sound.” 

And there you stayed, talking to him for another hour and a half. When you had realised that it was past the time you were supposed to meet the girls, you checked your phone and found out that not only had they already arrived, they were at a table in the corner watching you and Kendall interact eagerly. You had given him your number and bid him goodbye and the rest was history. How could you have known that ‘taking the edge off’ with a drink was a regular occurrence? That it was a serious problem that he refused to acknowledge… 

Things had been good for a long time. You couldn’t deny that either, things had been good. He always took you out on fun dates, did everything you wanted, bought you anything you could even think to want. He loved you, that was clear, but at what point was love not enough? Was it when he didn’t call or text for entire evenings while you worried and worried and considered calling the cops? Was it when he showed up with a black eye because he had been so drunk he had fallen down the stairs and hadn’t even realised it? You suppose it was when he was so drunk he thought he was kissing you even though you barely ever attended parties with him anymore… 

Since then you had gone through all the motions of a breakup, but this one was particularly rough. There was something about this situation that made the anger particularly harsh, particularly reluctant to leave you despite your best efforts at empathy. Perhaps it was because he had always promised to take care of you, of your heart, and by not taking care of himself, he had broken the promise all along. There were levels to this betrayal that you discovered day by day within yourself, hurts you hadn’t known you carried. 

He had only gotten in contact with you once before this email. A week after you had evicted him from your life, you received a call from an unknown number. You usually didn’t answer them, you didn’t know why you did that day. 

“Hello?”

“Y/n? Thank god!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” 

“Baby, please don’t hang up! Please.” 

“What? What could you possibly need to say to me?” 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Please, just come back. Or let me meet you somewhere. Please.”

“Are you kidding me? You seriously think I wanna see you?” “Y/n, please, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I thought it was you. I promise I thought it was you. Just let me see you, like-like for two fucking seconds, please.”

“I always knew you were kind of a dickhead, but this call just shows that I didn’t know how much of a dickhead you actually are.”

“Y/n-” 

“No. You do not get to talk. You do not get to say a word to me anymore. You do not get to see me, hear from me, anything. You do not get to have my presence in your life. You seriously think that ‘I thought it was you’ is a fucking excuse for making out with someone? You think that’s my only problem with the situation you piece of shit? Why the fuck would you let yourself get so drunk, get to a place where you are so out of your mind, that you would mistake another fucking human being as your girlfriend? Are you joking? You’re fucking forty, Kendall. You’re a forty year-old man, grow the fuck up.”

Then you hung up the phone, chest heaving and a fire coursing through your veins and skin cells. Your eyes burned with tears and you had to stop yourself from hurling the phone across the room. He just made you so fucking angry. There was something about him that just made you burn with rage. Most likely the fact that you had loved him more than you had ever loved anyone else… 

So you spent the next year forcing yourself to move on. You found a new apartment, focused all your time and energy between work and your friends, and allowed yourself to begin healing on the inside. A year was a long time, but it also wasn’t. A lot of things could happen, a lot of change. But also… none. Because as soon as you saw the email sitting in your inbox, you felt that surging anger once more. 

From: kendall.r@waystar.co.us 

Hi Y/n, 

I’m sure you’re surprised to hear from me considering it’s been a year since we’ve last been in contact. I just got out of rehab last week and during my recovery I’ve been thinking a lot about my life and the places I’ve gone wrong. And I keep coming back to one thing, which is us. Or what was us. 

I don’t know if you’ll ever open this, or if you’ll respond, but I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t think I ever expressed that to you clearly, how truly awful I felt about what I did. I know it’s no excuse, but I was drunk out of my mind, and high on a million things I don’t even know about anymore. I barely remember anything from that night, but I thought I saw you there, and I was so happy, so excited to see my girlfriend that I just walked up and kissed the person I thought was you. And I know that’s no excuse, I know that doesn’t mean anything, but I guess I just wanted to tell you. 

That last conversation we had was a real wake-up for me. I checked myself into rehab the day after because you were right, I should never have put myself in a position where that could even become a possibility. You were right about everything. 

I’ve been sober for a little while now, and I guess I just wanted to make amends or something. I don’t wanna impose on your life, and you obviously don’t have to let me into your life ever again, but if you did feel like talking at some point, here’s my new number: 

xxx-xxx-xxx

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well, and that you’re happy wherever you are. 

Love, 

Kendall Roy 

You laughed rather hysterically upon reading the email. You couldn’t quite believe his audacity in sending this. The pathetic business-minded quality of it made you feel a renewed sense of rage, perhaps even more fiery than the original wave you had felt a year ago. You instantly clicked reply and began typing furiously. 

To: kendall.r@waystar.co.us 

Hey, 

I got your email. I am doing better, thanks for asking. But I do not need this pathetic attempt at closure from you. Good for you that you went to rehab, and good for you that you’re feeling like shit about what happened between us. I’m really glad that it’s hitting you at its full scale. 

Don’t treat me like I’m something that needs to be handled, like the things that happened between you and me need to be wiped clean so you can feel good in your new life and let go of your guilt. You fucking cheated on me. YOU. I didn’t do anything to deserve it. 

I was doing completely fine when you sent this god forsaken email. I don’t need this from you. I don’t need your closure. I am completely fine being spiteful. It’s mine to hold and point at you. So you can fuck right off. 

Y/n 

You had every right not to forgive him. You had every right to be angry with him, to hold onto that anger as much as you wished. Because at the end of the day, he had hurt you, not the other way around. So you could hold all that anger as much as you wanted, keep it close to your chest for however long you wished. And that was ok. And it was funny, because just thinking that, made the anger ease a little anyway. Just knowing within yourself that you had every right to have it, made it slip a little from your grasp. 

You pressed send and listened to the little ‘whoosh’ sound as it left your outbox. And then you smiled, bright and warm and happy, and went off to make yourself a cup of coffee.

[littlehypnone]

Hiii! It's me Bat 🦇, you don't know me :( but I've got a request if you're up to it!

Perhaps a regressed Swiss and phantom. Swiss was taking care of phantom as usual, making sure their dressed and ready for the day, giving them their breakfast and their usual morning routine together.

It all starts getting to swiss when he sees phantom play with their Legos and dinos. Watching them smile and giggle as they made the dinosaurs crush down the Lego buildings. Swiss' mind starts getting all fuzzy, feeling himself slipping. But he refuses to let his guard down when Phantom was regressed, he didn't want anything to happen to his bat.

But it's so so hard to fight the urge to slip and be care free, he finds himself panicky and worried the more he gets fuzzy. Then Mountain comes to the rescue! He notices Swiss' odd behaviour, quickly helping him calm down and reassuring him that everything will be okay, mount telling him that he'll be there to take care of both him and phant <3

The end!! I've been thinking about regressed Swiss for so long haha, but only do this request if you want to! And take your time :D

i didnt follow this word to word but the concept is still here, i hope its okay. i did my best even tho i dont really see swiss as a regressor

740 words, little phantom (they/them), overworked and tired cg swiss, then little swiss, cg mountain, brave helper phantom, bit of panic and doubts about himself on swiss' side

Swiss was tired. He worked too much lately and he knew it, but he had things to do and not enough time to spare for a proper rest. He’d planned on taking a break during the weekend but things such as fussy little ghouls came up and he didn’t get a chance. He wasn’t upset with them, of course not, but it all started to pile up on top of him.

Now, the weekend was over and Swiss was more exhausted than before. Phantom had had a bad day the day before and went to bed with Swiss all small and scared. They woke up still little, but not upset anymore.

The multi ghoul was taking care of them all morning, helping them get dressed, making them breakfast and coming up with something to entertain them. Phantom ended up watching one of their favorite cartoons as they played with Lego’s on the floor in front of the TV. Swiss was sitting on the couch, keeping an eye on them. It’d be so easy to just fall asleep and take a nap, but Phantom couldn’t be left unsupervised and no one else was available. He’d push through, it was nothing.

Except he couldn’t.

The near silence of the common room, with only Phantom’s cartoon filling it, left his mind vulnerable to all the pressure that was gathering around him for the last few days. Before Swiss could really notice what was happening, his mind was slipping and he was curling himself up under a blanket.

He couldn’t do anything about it, though, Phantom was still small and needed to be watched over, he just had to shake himself out of it. It’d be fine, he was okay, it wouldn’t–

“Swissy? Are you o– okay?” Phantom perked up, their brows furrowed. They weren't only observant, but also a quintessence ghoul. Of course they noticed something was wrong.

“Y– yeah, buggy, don’t worry,” Swiss forced himself to smile as he hid half of his face behind the blanket. He started to panic.

“No! Something’s w– wrong,” they stood up and made their way over to where Swiss was curled in on himself. They knelt in front of him and looked intently into his eyes as he tried to avoid them. “T– tell me, Swissy, I can help!”

The multi ghoul thought for a moment. Phantom would get upset if they couldn’t help and he didn’t want that. He didn’t know what to do, though, how they could help. All they could do was–

“Can– can you get Mounty?” he mumbled, tightening the blanket around himself. Phantom shot up, nodding, and ran away before Swiss could process what was happening and tell them to slow down and be careful.

He was left alone with Phantom’s cartoon as background noise. He couldn’t stop the ugly thoughts his mind was supplying him with, that he was useless, that he failed at the simplest task of watching a little ghoul, that he should–

“Swiss, darling?” he heard Mountain’s voice and tears filled his eyes. He wanted him, yes, but now someone would see how weak he was. He hated that. “Oh, baby…”

“‘m s– sorry,” Swiss whispered shakily, hiding even further behind the blanket. “Where… Phantom?”

“Left them with Dew,” Mountain explained, knowing that this knowledge alone would calm the multi ghoul a bit. “Do you want a hug, my heart?”

He nodded and was quickly scooped up, straight into Mountain’s lap. Swiss buried his face in his chest, letting out a single sob at the feeling of… love.

“It’s alright,” the earth ghoul mumbled into his ear, doing his best to call him down. It was working, Mountain had something about him that made it impossible for any ghoul to be upset around him. “It happens, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let me take care of you for once, okay?”

Swiss thought about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. He was really tired, after all, and Mountain was always so nice to him, he loved him so much. Maybe… maybe it was a good idea. “Okay.”

“Good,” Mountain smiled and pressed a kiss to Swiss’ forehead. “Can I carry you to my room? I know you like it there.”

The multi ghoul nodded and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, letting him pick him up. “It’ll all be okay, my heart. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Swiss never dared to doubt him.

[amayaonly1]

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 27

About: With the house unusually quiet, Genji and Eminem settle into a rare evening alone sharing snacks, teasing banter, and enjoying each other's company. But beneath the comfortable routine, something feels off. He seems preoccupied, his thoughts elsewhere, and Genji can't shake the nagging feeling that there's more to his silence than just tour stress. As doubts creep in, she wrestles between trusting him or letting old fears take root.

"Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey" Chapter List: Verse 1 | Verse 2 | Verse 3 | Verse 4 | Verse 5 | Verse 6 | Verse 7 | Verse 8 | Verse 9 | Verse 10 | Verse 11 | Verse 12 | Verse 13 | Verse 14 | Verse 15 | Verse 16 | Verse 17 | Verse 18 | Verse 19 | Verse 20 | Verse 21 | Verse 22 | Verse 23 | Verse 24 | Verse 25 | Verse 26 | Verse 27

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Snowflakes drifted lazily past the window, melting the moment they kissed the glass. The house was unusually quiet. Without the usual background noise of teenagers moving around, arguing over playlists, or raiding the pantry, the silence settled like a heavy winter blanket.

Genji leaned against the kitchen counter, stirring a mug of hot cocoa as the rich scent curled into the air. Behind her, Eminem rummaged through the cabinets, his movements unhurried, as if he was stalling.

"We got way too many mugs," he grumbled, pulling out one with a cartoon cat. He glanced at her, then swapped it for a plain black one.

"They're not mine," she reminded him, amused.

"I know, but still." He shot a glance toward the living room, where the TV hummed softly in the background. "Feels weird being here without the girls."

Genji hummed in agreement, passing him his cocoa before cupping her own in both hands. The warmth seeped into her fingers, cutting through the cold. It was one of the rare evenings they had the house to themselves. Hailie and the other two were out with Kim for the night, which left the space unusually still.

Eminem leaned against the counter, blowing on his drink. She watched as his lips pressed into a thin line, the flicker of hesitation before he took a cautious sip.

"You're not gonna burn your tongue again, are you?" she teased.

He scoffed. "That was one time."

She arched an eyebrow.

"…Okay, maybe twice."

She smiled, setting her mug down before making her way to the couch. The fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. The coffee table was already cluttered with snacks: popcorn, half a bag of chips, and a box of chocolate Pocky she had smuggled into his pantry weeks ago.

Eminem flopped down beside her, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "You wanna watch something?"

Genji glanced at the TV setup: a mix of cable's on-demand movies and a few DVDs stacked near the TV. There were mostly action films, a few comedies... and one suspiciously misplaced romance.

She shot him a look. "You actually picked something romantic?"

He barely spared it a glance. “Nah, it's the girls'."

She smirked but didn’t press, watching as he scrolled through the options. He bypassed a couple of new releases and landed on an older comedy.

"You sure?" she asked, curling her legs beneath her.

"It's either this or some depressing Oscar-bait shit," he remarked, tossing the remote onto the table before reaching for the popcorn.

She huffed a quiet laugh, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands as she curled up against his side. The warmth of his hoodie and the faint scent of his clean, sharp cologne felt grounding. Eminem stretched an arm over the back of the couch, fingers drumming idly against the cushion. He wasn't one for casual affection, but over time, she had come to recognise these moments when his guard was down. He wasn't the type to say things outright; he showed them instead.

Halfway through the film, he shifted, clearing his throat. "You ever think about the future?"

Genji blinked, tilting her head up to look at him. "That's random."

He shrugged. "Just askin'."

She considered the question for a moment. "Not really. I mean, I plan things, but I don't think too far ahead."

Eminem nodded, gaze fixed on the screen, but she could tell he wasn't really watching. His fingers tapped lightly against her shoulder in a steady rhythm, almost like a nervous habit.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said quickly.

She narrowed her eyes. "You sure?"

He scoffed, reaching for the popcorn. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Genji studied him, sensing that he'd been wanting to say something that's been lingering in his mind. But whatever it was, he wasn't ready yet. So she let it go, stealing a handful of popcorn from his bowl. He sighed like she was unbearable, but his subtle smirk said otherwise.

For the rest of the movie, they stayed wrapped in the quiet warmth of an evening just for them. Laughter slipped between bites of snacks, easy conversation filling the spaces where words weren't needed.

Later, in the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, absentmindedly stirring her cup of tea while he picked at his leftover spaghetti, his posture unusually rigid.

"You ever think about movin' in?"

Genji's fork paused mid-air. She frowned. "We've had this conversation, Marsh."

Despite how often she visited, she never stayed over, adamant about not cohabiting no matter how many times Eminem pointed out the convenience of living together. Instead, she had rented an apartment near his place, a compromise that kept them close but still gave her the independence she refused to give up.

"I know," he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "Just thought I'd try my shot. Should've known you're more stubborn than me."

She turned to face him, raising a brow. "What's this about?"

Eminem exhaled, staring down at his plate. "Forget it."

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, too casually, he said, "Your dad. He a strict guy?"

Genji blinked. "What?"

"I mean, is he the kind of guy who—" He hesitated, shaking his head. "Never mind. Just wondering."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're being weird."

He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm always weird."

She didn't argue with that, but there was something off. She saw how he kept shifting topics, the restless tapping of his fingers; his mind was moving too fast for his words to keep up.

"Is this about your tour?" she asked finally.

Eminem's fingers stilled. "Huh?"

"The one that's coming up. You've been distracted all day. Have you been worried about it?"

For a split second, she saw surprise (or maybe amusement) flicker across his face. Then he exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah. Just a lot on my mind."

Genji nodded, accepting the answer at face value. At least, that was what she told herself.

In truth, something about his demeanour unsettled her. The shifting topics, the distracted air, the uneven rhythm of his fingers drumming against the counter. It wasn't just about the tour. She could feel it. She knew him too well not to.

But she also knew what it felt like to realise too late that someone had already pulled away. The thought was intrusive, but it lingered. It wasn't fair, not to him or them, but experience had taught her not to ignore warning signs. And deep down, a small, insidious part of her wondered if this was one. Maybe she had missed something and had been too comfortable.

Her grip tightened around her mug, fingers pressing into the ceramic's warmth as she forced herself to push the thought aside. No, this is different. This was Marshall, a man who, despite his bluntness, had never made her feel uncertain before. He wasn't the kind to play mind games or tiptoe around his feelings; at least, not with her. If something had changed, he would tell her. Wouldn't he?

She swallowed, pushing the doubt down before it could sink its claws in any deeper. He was just stressed about the tour. That had to be it. It made sense if she were to go with that narrative — the pressure, the long flights, the back-to-back shows. He was distracted, not distant. And if she let her own past mistakes dictate how she saw him, she would only be sabotaging something she had fought too hard to build.

She just had to trust him.

So she exhaled, let her shoulders ease, and nudged her half-eaten dinner toward him instead.

"You're not eating?" he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She shrugged, offering a small smile. "Not that hungry. You want it?"

He gave her a look but took it anyway.

Neither said anything more about the conversation that had already slipped between the cracks. And for tonight, she's content with that.

[edgessunflower]

Put it all behind me

Pairing: Maya Lambert x Fem reader

Description: You are attacked and Maya helps you through the trauma

Warning: Mention of possible sexual assault, physical assault, and blood

Maya was up late going through files when a loud knock almost like a bang hit her front door and echoed loudly making her jump before going to the door not expecting to find a bloodied handprint on the door and blood drops on the ground but she definitely wasn't expecting the person who was bleeding to be you as you looked at her shaking head to toe while crying. She looked at you wide eyed seeing your head busted open, your eye swollen and bleeding in the white of your eye, your finger badly cut, bruises and cuts along your body, your clothes half ripped off and your shirt completely gone leaving you in a torn tank top and your torn bra that barely covered your exposed chest as she gently pulled you inside and immediately led you to the bathroom where she turned the shower on letting you sit in the warm water while she got you spare clothes before slowly drying you off and tending to the cuts on your body stapling the cut on your head and putting bandages over them speaking softly as she helped you into the spare clothes she brought you then took you to her living room. You sat on the couch as she cooked in the kitchen before bringing you a bowl of rice and shrimp that you slowly ate on between sips of cold apple juice wrapped in a blanket while a random movie played on the TV mostly as soothing background noise while you began to open up and tell her what had happened while you were walking home from work since your car was currently being repaired due to a faulty engine but you weren't expecting to ever be followed and attacked plus nearly assaulted as well which pissed maya off knowing that not only had someone hurt you and scared you badly but that they had tried to rape you truly made anger churn within her wanting to protect you after hearing everything that had happened before you escaped and ran all the way to her place ten blocks away from where you were attacked holding you as you cried then fell asleep leading to the next morning at the police station holding your hand tightly as you made the report and told them everything that had happened but luckily it wasn't long until you stared at a line positively identifying all three of your attackers with maya holding your hand leading to you beginning the process of healing and maya was right by your side every step of the way.

[jeonjcngkook]

incandescent | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre(s)&au(s): fluff, established relationship

rating: pg

wc: 1.3k

warnings: theyre so in love with each other🤭! koos singing voice lulls us all 🤲🏻 makin’ out, playing with koos pretty hair bcs its exactly what he deserves !!!

summary: you and your boyfriend spend a comfortable romantic night in together.

note: unedited. repost bcs the last one stopped showing in tags 🙃.

Is there anything more beautiful than the sound of your boyfriend's voice?

The deep tenors and sweet cadences lull you into a state of calm as you stretch yourself out on the couch below, listening to Jungkook reach the notes in a perfect sequence to the song he is currently singing on his karaoke machine.

Friday nights are typically spent with each other as you participate in different activities. Your relationship's own version of a ‘date night’, you could say. However, this time it had been agreed between you both that staying in and enjoying each other's company in the cosiness of the home you built together was exactly what was needed.

Earlier, Jungkook prepared dinner for you both — a spread on the table of both your favourite foods and glasses of alcohol to wash it down with. Every detail had been carefully thought of, all the way down to the scented candles, that he personally chose to match the fragrances of the food.

Now, with full tummies and even fuller hearts, you both lie within the blanket of reds, blues and greens from the stars of his favourite LED light system and a spread of mandarin & grapefruit scented candles decorating the living room.

You could listen to Jungkook’s voice all day and never be tired of it. The calming effect he has on you with his words alone is something you have always admired. It doesn’t take much for a yawn to slip through his lips, catching the attention from yourself as he continues to sing through the verse of the next song. You watch as he attempts to stifle it underneath his breath, pulling the thin knitted throw up to his face to conceal the motion.

A sweet smirk is on your lips as he continues his lacklustre attempt at concealing his tiredness. Tears cling to his lower lash line from the yawn, head falling to the side and landing on your shoulder.

“You should get some sleep,” you’re quick to say as you feel him wriggle further into your warmth, his hand finding your spare hand that isn’t holding your phone and intertwining his fingers with your own.

“I’m fine staying here with you, baby,” he mumbles back in retaliation, cutting himself off mid-song to rebuttal back, voice half asleep and rubbing at his eyes like that will do the job of removing the sleep out of it. “I like laying here with you.”

You huff a little at his words. He is too darn cute for his own good and it makes your body warm knowing that he is licking being with you over much needed rest.

“But we could lie together in bed, snuggle up nice and cosy, and then in the morning come back here and cuddle all day into the night. Doesn’t that sound like the perfect way to begin our weekend?” You reason with him.

Jungkook’s lips part open for a moment as if he had the words to argue back with but is quick to shut them and opts for putting his microphone down on the coffee table instead. He finds the remote control for the TV and lowers the volume to something less deafening and one a little more relaxing as the lofi sounds act as a background ambiance.

He turns towards you and you watch as the flickers of the candles scattered around the room flicker and dance against his skin; bathing him in an ethereal glow — just like how an angel should look. The bright vibrant amber candlelight beautifully illuminates the melanin of his skin, extenuating his tanned skin stunningly.

It doesn’t help that his shirt is loose and baggy on his upper body, sleeves cuffed half way on his upper arm showing off his pretty tattoos of striking colours and bold black lines, only for the muscle under his skin to thicken as he brings his hand up to his hair. You watch intently as both hands comb through the long curly tresses from forehead to crown; again and again and it only magnifies just how pretty your boyfriend is.

The tip of his tongue presses against his inner cheek, his cheek protruding from the outside…an action he usually does when he is deep in thought. With the way the light hits his soft skin, it perfectly shows off how sharp his jawline is and how his gentle pink lips rest in a natural pout, leaving them looking plump, pink and irresistibly kissable.

“‘m not tired,” he argues, a grin on his face as he lies himself down next to you on the L shape of the couch, pulling back the thin blanket that has been resting on the headrest of the sofa and engulfs you inside the fabric before laying his head into your lap and effectively trapping you against the back of the leather and his body. Another yawn takes over his body as you feel him stiffen as he rides it out.

You lift your hand up to his face and let your fingers play delicately with the strands of his hair, twisting it around your finger and curling it around his ear away from his face.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed as you continue playing with his hair, adding to his tiredness and lulling him into a state of slumber. The atmosphere is exactly what Jungkook had promised earlier…cosy.

Jungkook’s eyes slipped shut, just long enough for you to see before he is prying them back open again with as much willpower as he can possibly muster. With the feeling of your fingers gently twisting and pulling at his hair, he has no argument against his exhaustion as it finally reaches him.

You reach the tight curls at the base of his neck, fingers playing with the curls as you make sure to let your nails scratch lightly at the base of his scalp, knowing that Jungkook has no bone in his body to make this stop, enjoying your touches so much.

You have him exactly where you want him.

Jungkook’s eyes are glazed over with sleep and yet all the same still looks dreamy — the browns are rich and deep, flakes of amber dotted within his irises. Love songs are written about eyes like his. It wasn’t hard to peer into them and to see your own smile reflecting back when he looks at you.

He runs his thumb over your lower lip, parting them just slightly before he leans down, pillowy lips connecting to yours in a soft kiss.

The feeling is so fulfilling that it is enough to make your eyelids flutter shut and your heart racing in your chest with blissful warmth as he presses his mouth deeper into yours. Even in a state of sleep, the kiss is still filled with emotion — passionate and sensual.

Jungkook moans as his mouth continues to work over yours, his teeth catching your lower lip and biting down with little pressure and letting it snap back before chasing your mouth for a second kiss.

Your hands run through his hair,nails grazing his scalp enticingly, eliciting another moan from deep within his chest. The way you kiss him has him seeing stars; dazed and lost in the touch of your lips. You caress his face with delicate touches, tongues flicking across his mouth and the way you counter back by nibbling in his own bottom lip before breaking the kiss.

Endearingly, you both press your foreheads together and close your eyes with a smile on both your lips.

Jungkook’s hand finds home on his hip before slipping underneath the cotton material of your t-shirt and resting his hands there. His thumb runs tracks over your skin in back and forth strokes as you bask in the calming, soothing sensation.

You feel his foot nudge open your legs as he tangles his limbs with yours and pulls you impossibly closer to you, your own leg now resting on top of his lip as you lock each other within the other's arms.

The feeling of Jungkook’s breath against your skin causes goosebumps to travel over your body, the warmth now turning into a small bonfire as love for the sleepy man in your arms ignites and burns bright.

It isn’t long before his breathing becomes drawn out and even, loud snores whistling through his nose and his thumb slows its movements as he eventually falls asleep in your arms.

“So much for not being sleepy,” you mock him as if he could hear, when deep down you wish that he had taken off into a dreamy slumber.

With gentle ease, you press the palm of your hand against his full cheek and brush your thumb over his cheeks the same way he did with your hip moments ago. You press your head against his forehead and land a tiny, light, airy kiss on his pouty lips.

You close your own eyes, listening to the flickering sounds of the small candles around the living room as well as concentrating on the rhythm of Jungkook’s breathing, hoping to ease yourself into your own slumber.

What felt like a moment later, Jungkook tightens his hold on you, whispering a small ‘i love you’, before sleep eventually blankets over you.

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: Cussing, panic attacks, flashbacks, shock

A:N: I do not understand this culture, heavy use of google, if anything is offensive or incorrect, please let me know so I can adjust -T.S.T.

Part 12

Spare Parts - Part 13

The house smelled like microwave popcorn and cheap fabric softener—the latter probably from Letty’s attempt at pretending she actually gave a shit about laundry.

The TV screen flickered, casting a dull glow over the small living room, where the couch was already stacked with mismatched blankets.

A bag of candy had been ripped open and abandoned on the coffee table, and somewhere in the background, Letty was already bitching about the movie choices.

Coco stood by the kitchen, cracking open a beer as he eyed you with a smirk.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence."

You rolled your eyes, setting down the bag of snacks you’d brought.

“Better late then never.” You shot back.

Coco clicked his tongue, pretending to think.

"Eh"

Letty shot him a look. “Pendejo.”

He grinned, taking a swig of his beer.

You shook your head, taking a seat on the couch while Letty shuffled through the movies.

"Alright, what we watchin’? And if you pick some corny rom-com, mija, I swear to God—"

Letty cut him off. "Relax, we’re watching horror."

Coco perked up at that.

The movie started, but Letty was still side-eyeing you from her spot on the floor.

You weren’t sure what to make of her yet—she had a sharpness to her, like she was always waiting for someone to give her a reason to bite. But tonight, she seemed… calmer.

Letty stretched out with an exaggerated groan, cracking her knuckles.

"Man, this movie sucks."

Coco snorted. "You picked it, mija."

"Yeah, well, I regret it." She turned her head, looking up at you with that same scrutinizing stare she always had. "So… what’s the deal with you not liking to be touched?"

Your stomach tightened.

It wasn’t said with any real malice—Letty was blunt by nature, no filter, no hesitation. But the question still landed heavy.

You felt Coco go still beside you.

Letty continued, oblivious. "I mean, it’s kinda weird, right? You like Coco, but you flinch when he gets too close. Like, what’s up with that?"

You opened your mouth, but before you could even attempt an answer, Coco shifted, dropping his arm from the couch and leaning forward slightly.

"Leticia."

His tone was flat. Firm.

Letty raised an eyebrow. "What? It’s a fair—"

"Don’t."

That one word carried more weight than anything else he’d said all night.

Letty looked at him, then at you.

Then, with a roll of her eyes, she muttered, "Whatever," and turned back to the TV.

Coco didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t tease. Didn’t push.

Just leaned back again, shifting like nothing had happened—except now, his knee brushed against yours under the blanket.

At some point, you got up to grab more snacks, and Coco followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a lazy smirk.

"So."

You didn’t like the way he said that. “So…?”

"You been doin’ alright, muñeca?"

You frowned. “Yeah?”

"Mhm." He took a sip of his beer, eyeing you over the rim. "‘Cause, you know, last time I saw you at the clubhouse, you were all sweet talkin’ me ‘bout how much you appreciate me and shit."

Your stomach dropped. “Coco—”

"Nah, nah, it’s cool, muñeca," he teased, setting his beer down and stepping closer. "You were feelin’ real sentimental that night, huh?"

Your face burned. “I'll have you know I was tipsy.”

"Ohhh, I know." He grinned. "Shit was adorable. All wide-eyed, lettin’ me hold you like I was your fuckin’ hero or somethin’."

You groaned, covering your face.

"Ay, don’t hide now, chiquita—you were real cozy up against me. Bet if I pulled you in right now, you’d—"

You smacked his arm before he could finish.

"¡Ay!" He laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically. "Damn, alright, alright, I’ll stop."

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him.

"You done?"

"For now."

He shot you one last smug grin before heading back to the couch.

The horror movie flickered on the screen, throwing shadows across the small living room.

You were curled up on the couch, knees tucked under the blanket, while Coco sat beside you, sprawled out like he owned the place—which, to be fair, he did.

Letty was still on the floor, leaning against the couch with a bored look, occasionally glancing over at the two of you.

It wasn’t a huge change, but there was something different tonight.

Coco was sitting just a little closer than before.

Not touching—because he never pushed that. But the space between you wasn’t as wide as it used to be.

His arm rested along the back of the couch, and if you shifted just a little, you could almost feel the warmth of him.

He noticed, too.

Every once in a while, he’d glance over, like he was checking to see if you were still okay with it. And when you didn’t pull away, he just smirked to himself and kept watching the movie.

Coco sat next to you, smirking every time the final girl made a dumb decision.

"Oh, yeah, bitch, run upstairs. ‘Cause that always works," he drawled, tossing a piece of popcorn at the screen.

You laughed, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it.

"You act like you'd do any better," you teased, turning to him.

He gave you a look. "Please. I’d be the first one outta that house. You’d still be sittin’ there tryna reason with the killer, all sweet, like—‘Maybe we can talk about this?’”

You rolled your eyes, laughing again.

"That’s not—okay, maybe depends on the killer"

Coco grinned, shifting slightly closer.

Not enough to crowd you. Just enough to see if you’d let him.

Every once in a while, his knee brushed yours.

A casual touch. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Like he wasn’t checking to see if you’d pull away.

And when you didn’t, his smirk deepened.

"Look at you, chiquita. Gettin’ real brave these days."

You gave him a look. "I let your knee touch mine. That’s hardly brave."

He chuckled low in his throat, taking a slow sip from his beer. "Nah, but it’s a start."

The way he said it—like he knew you were figuring things out—made something in your chest feel warm.

Eventually, Letty groaned, standing up to grab more drinks from the kitchen. "Don’t make out while I’m gone."

Coco snorted. "Nah, mija, we’ll wait ‘til you get back so you can feel extra awkward."

Letty flipped him off and walked out.

Coco leaned back into the couch, eyes flicking toward you. "You good?"

You nodded, eyes flicking back to the screen, the second film of the night playing across the screen.

The movie played on, but Coco had been watching you more than the screen.

You were curled into the corner of his couch, looking more comfortable than you usually did.

Then, like you suddenly remembered something, you sat up. "Oh! I brought something for you guys."

Coco raised a brow, watching as you padded over to his fridge and pulled out a large, plastic-wrapped dish.

Letty glanced over from the kitchen with a skeptical look. "What is it?"

You grinned a little, peeling back the wrap. "Pav"

Coco stared at the fluffy, meringue-based dessert, topped with whipped cream and fresh fruit.

"The fuck is ‘Pav’?" he asked, squinting at it.

You turned to him, eyes twinkling. "It’s a kiwi thing. Trust me, you’ll like it."

He smirked. "Oh, I gotta trust you now? That how it is?"

"Yea, besides you guys missed out the other day," you said simply.

Letty snorted, grabbing some plates.

"I dunno, chiquita," Coco drawled, arms draped over the back of the couch. "Last time I trusted you, you got all drunk and emotional on me."

Your cheeks warmed. "I wasn’t drunk—"

"Nah? Tipsy then."

Letty grinned. "You got tipsy?"

"No—"

"—Touched all over my face, muñeca," Coco added, enjoying how flustered you were getting.

Your shot him a look, eyes narrowing. "And you fucking loved it"

Coco just shrugged, shooting you a lazy, knowing smirk.

And that was the moment Letty decided to intervene.

"Jesus Christ, just get a room already."

After you cut slices of the pavlova for everyone, Letty grabbed beers from the fridge.

"You guys want one?" she asked, cracking one open for herself.

Then, after a moment, you gave a small nod. "Yeah. Okay."

Coco took his with no hesitation, taking a slow sip as he leaned back, watching you.

You weren’t getting drunk.

But after the first beer, you stopped fidgeting as much.

And after the second?

That fuzzy softness started creeping back in.

The same thing that had happened at the clubhouse.

Coco tilted his head slightly, clocking the shift in your body language—the way your shoulders weren’t as tense, the way you stopped overthinking every movement.

It was subtle, but he caught it.

"Huh."

You glanced over. "What?"

He smirked. "Nada, chiquita. Just thinkin’."

"Thinking about what?"

He just sipped his beer. "How a couple drinks turn you into a whole different person."

Your brow furrowed. "I don’t—"

"Nah, you do," he said, watching you. "Get all relaxed. Touchy. Like at the clubhouse."

You gave him a look. "That a bad thing ?"

"Didn’t say it was."

There was something knowing in his expression, but he let it go.

For now.

Coco dug his fork into the pavlova, lifting a piece with exaggerated skepticism.

"This shit better not kill me, muñeca. I got a lotta enemies, and I’d hate for it to be you that takes me out."

You rolled your eyes. "Just eat it."

He smirked but finally took a bite.

Then another.

And another.

Letty squinted. "Ew, eat with your mouth shut."

Coco shot her a look mid-bite, speaking around a mouthful. "Shut the fuck up."

You grinned, curling your legs beneath you on the couch.

Letty made a face. "Ugh. You’re disgusting."

Coco just shrugged, licking a bit of cream off his fork. "What? Shit’s good."

You watched him, feeling pleased.

"Told you," you murmured.

Coco pointed his fork at you, amused. "Oh, so now you’re all smug ‘bout it? Damn, chiquita, get a couple drinks in you, and suddenly you’re all confident, huh?"

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t shrink away.

Coco stretched, throwing his arm lazily along the back of the couch, his fingertips just brushing your shoulder.

You didn’t pull away.

Didn’t even tense.

He clocked that immediately.

"You’re real comfortable now, huh?"

Your head tilted slightly, eyes half-lidded. "Mhm."

Coco’s smirk turned softer, something almost pleased settling behind his eyes.

He shifted slightly, his arm lowering just enough that his fingers brushed your upper arm.

He tilted his head slightly, watching you like he was still waiting for you to notice what you’d done.

Then, after a moment, he tested something.

He shifted a little more, his hand dropping to your shoulder, warm and solid.

No resistance.

Then?

He pulled you in.

Just a little.

And you let him.

"Damn, look at that," he muttered, lips quirking. "You do like me."

You huffed a quiet laugh, but you didn’t move away.

Didn’t fight it.

Coco tilted his head, voice dropping just enough to be teasing. "A couple drinks and some sugar, and you’re putty in my hands, huh?"

You gave him a dry look. "Coco, shut up"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, but his grip on you was solid—grounding.

The movie had ended. Letty had long since retreated to her room, leaving you and Coco in the quiet hum of a house that felt surprisingly warm.

You shifted slightly, drawing your legs up under you as you glanced at him.

"So… am I staying the night, or should I go?"

Coco, who had been lazily sprawled against the couch, turned his head to look at you, dark eyes sharp despite the drowsy ease of his posture.

"You tryna kick me to the couch, muñeca? ‘Cause damn, you coulda just said that."

You hesitated.

"No, that’s not—" You exhaled, steeling yourself before clarifying, softer this time. "That’s not quite what I meant."

Coco went still.

For the first time since the night started, his usual smirking, sarcastic confidence faltered—just slightly.

Because this?

This wasn’t like you.

And you’d had a couple of drinks.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he tilted his head, assessing you in the low light. "Yeah?"

Coco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered you.

"Don’t take this the wrong way, chiquita, but… you’re not exactly the type to jump into bed with a cabron like me."

Your eyes widened. "Whoa, I didn’t mean—"

"Nah, I know," he cut in, watching you with a knowing smirk. "But you are sayin’ you wanna stay—with me."

Your fingers curled slightly against the couch.

You nodded.

He let that sit for a beat before he shifted, stretching one arm along the back of the couch and watching you closely. "Shit, muñeca, you say that, but you’re also, like, two drinks in. What if you wake up and regret it?"

"I kinda, just want to ... try."

You'd been around Coco for a good few months and he hadn't pushed your boundaries.

"You sure about that?" His voice broke through your thoughts

You nodded again.

Coco let out a breath, running his tongue along his teeth before shaking his head with a smirk. "Damn. You really do like me, huh?"

You huffed. "Shut the hell up."

"Nah, nah, this is cute," he teased, but there was a softness to his voice now, something warm and edged with the weight of knowing exactly how much trust this meant.

His hand lifted, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your sleeve. He didn’t push—he never did—but he didn’t pull away either.

"Alright, muñeca," he murmured, voice low, easy. "You stayin’ the night."

Coco led the way toward his bedroom, glancing back at you as you hesitated in the doorway.

The bed was unmade, blankets kicked to the side like he hadn’t bothered to fix them in the morning.

He turned, catching the way your fingers fidgeted at the hem of your shirt. "Damn, muñeca, you look like you just walked into a fuckin’ trap."

"I don’t—"" You stopped, exhaling. "I’m just… processing."

Coco tilted his head, giving you a lazy once-over.

Tipsy.

Not drunk, but loose around the edges, like the usual stiffness had softened just enough for you to be here, standing in his doorway, trying to work through whatever was going through your head.

He didn’t push.

Didn’t make a comment on it.

He just reached down, tugging a shirt out if his half open drawer.

"Here."

You blinked. "What?"

He smirked, holding the shirt out. "Unless you tryna sleep in your jeans, muñeca, I figured this was better."

You stared at it.

Then at him.

He waved a little. "C’mon, chiquita, ain’t like I haven’t seen a girl in my clothes before."

You rolled your eyes, but took the shirt anyway, turning away as you pulled it over your head, and shimmyied your shirt out from under it.

It was too big, the hem brushing your thigh, the fabric a kittle broaderer then you in a way that made his lips twitch in amusement when he caught sight of you.

"Shit, look at you," he mused. "Could eat you up, chiquita, you that fuckin’ cute."

Your face warmed.

"Shut up, Coco."

"Nah, I’m serious," he teased, eyes flicking over you before he nodded toward the bed.

The alcohol softened your nerves, just enough to try.

His presence, his warmth, the way he never treated you like you were fragile, but still managed to make you feel safe.

This would be fine.

Coco was safe.

"I trust you."

Coco’s jaw ticked slightly.

That?

That hit deeper than you probably even realized.

He exhaled through his nose, running a hand over his jaw before shaking his head with a smirk. "Shit, muñeca, don’t say shit like that."

"Why?"

He grinned, voice dropping just slightly. "‘Cause then I gotta prove you right."

Coco sat down on the edge of the bed, watching you closely before he spoke again.

"C’mon, muñeca, let’s get you some sleep before you start gettin’ ideas."

Your eyes flicked open sometime in the darkness.

The first thing you registered was warmth.

A solid, heavy warmth pressed against your back, an arm draped loosely around your waist.

The faint scent of Coco—cigarettes, cologne, something distinctly him—filled the space around you.

And then—

The weight of his arm registered.

Heavy.

Holding.

No.

Caging.

Pinning.

Panic.

Your breath hitched, chest tightening like a vice as reality shattered beneath the weight of something else.

Something darker.

Trapped.

Can't move.

Can’t breathe.

Your hands curled into the sheets. Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs, too loud, too fast.

You didn't know where you were.

The room was too dark.

The air was too close.

The weight on your body was wrong—

Your breath hitched violently, a sharp, gasping sound that barely made it past your lips. You tried to move, but your body wouldn’t respond—tried to speak, but your throat had closed.

Not here.

Not now.

But your brain didn't care.

All it knew was danger.

Coco stirred at the sound of your breathing—quick, shallow, wrong.

"Mmm... qué pasa, chiquita?" His voice was thick with sleep, rough around the edges as he shifted. His arm around you tensed slightly as he pulled you closer, instinctively protective.

And that was the final trigger.

Your body snapped into fight-or-flight, a choked, panicked sound escaping your lips as you stiffened violently.

Coco barely had time to react before he felt you shaking.

His smirk faded instantly.

"Ay, mierda— muñeca? Hey—hey, what's wrong?"

He sat up quickly, hands reaching for you—then stopping short when he saw you, gasping for air like you were drowning, eyes glassy.

"Shit—okay, okay, relax, muñeca, it’s me—"

But you weren’t hearing him.

Coco cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Think, pendejo.

Your breath hitched, ragged and desperate. Your hands trembled violently.

Coco swore under his breath "Fuck, this shit ain't normal—"

Coco moved fast, shoving the covers back and swinging his legs off the bed.

"Don’t go anywhere, muñeca." His voice was low, careful. "I got you, a'ight? Just—just stay put."

He bolted for the kitchen.

The freezer door slammed open. A few seconds later, he was back, a handful of ice cubes wrapped in a towel.

He crouched down in front of you, eyeing you carefully. You were still gasping for air, eyes glossed over but like you where caged with a wild animal.

"Alright, chiquita, listen up—this shit is gonna suck."

And before you could even process what he meant—

Cold.

A shock of ice against your bare arm, jolting you like a live wire.

You gasped, a sharp, pained sound—

And suddenly, you were back.

The room slammed into focus all at once—the dim light filtering through the window, the smell of stale cigarettes, Coco crouched in front of you, his brows furrowed, mouth set in a tight line.

Your breath still came in sharp, ragged gulps, but the crushing weight in your chest was beginning to ease.

"I ain’t gonna touch you, okay? Just—tell me what you need."Coco muttered, tossing the ice towel aside.

You tried to steady your breathing.

"Mierda— okay, okay, just—just breathe, muñeca."

Your whole body was trembling violently, your nails digging into your arms as you stared at him like he was a threat—like he was something dangerous.

And Coco?

Coco looked like someone had punched him.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Letty’s voice was thick with sleep as she stumbled into the doorway, rubbing a hand over her face.

Coco barely glanced at her.

"Go back to bed, Leticia."

"Uh—nah, dude, what the fuck is happening?" She blinked at the sight of you—shaking. "Did you—"

"No, I didn’t fucking do anything!" Coco snapped, then exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face.

Letty held up her hands. "Damn, okay—"

Coco turned back to you, carefully lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.

You nodded, breathing returning to normal.

"I-I'm—fuck Im so sorry Coco"

[heich0e]

getting into a fight with roommate!makki over something petty and stupid and saying something unreasonably, unjustifiably harsh.

his eyes widen a bit in the wake of your words, and after a moment of tense silence he just shuffles off to his room without saying anything, leaving you to wallow in the living room. your stomach pangs, a deep dull ache, as his bedroom door clicks closed softly.

he tiptoes back in after the dust has settled a little bit.

"are you really that mad at me?" he asks as he leans against the doorway, not daring to get any closer to where you're curled up under three blankets on the couch.

"no," you murmur remorsefully, curling a little further into yourself, "i'm just... being a raging bitch because i'm on my period."

"oh," takahiro says, nodding a little in understanding, "word."

it's quiet for a moment as the bad reality TV show you're watching drones on in front of you.

"well... i'm going out," hiro says after lingering for a while, slipping away towards the door. you perk up just in time to see him slip out of view, and you debate calling out and asking him to stay. asking if he's upset with you. but you let him go.

your phone rings half an hour later.

a photo of you and hiro from the summer, issei sandwiched in between you, flashes on the screen. a happier, warmer time. you free your hands from your cocoon of solitude and reach for it on the sofa cushion beside you.

you hold the cellphone between your shoulder and your ear as you reach for the remote to mute the TV.

"hello?" you answer the call.

"are you like... eat something grumpy, or like burn something grumpy?"

an incredulous, bewildered laugh bubbles up from your aching stomach before you know it.

"what?" you ask, confused, smashing the mute button on the remote because it doesn't seem to want to cooperate. finally the sound cuts out from the television. "what do you mean?"

"i'm wondering if the ice cream i'm getting is enough, or if i should buy like a couple dozen eggs and some fireworks so you can blow them up," makki replies from the other line. you hear the steady beep...beep...beep of a checkout scanner at a convenience store in the background of the call.

you slump back against the sofa, slinging your arm over your eyes as you laugh.

"you're an idiot."

"and you're mean," he returns your insult. "a weaker man might have cried with some of that shit you pulled earlier."

you sigh, nuzzling your nose further into the crook of your arm.

"i said i was sorry," you mutter.

"you didn't actually, and i'm still out here buying snacks for you anyway," hiro responds with a chuckle. "you're lucky i grew up with two sisters and this is not my first time on the receiving end of a menstrual cycle induced rage."

you laugh too, all breath.

"sorry."

"apology accepted. so do I need those eggs or not?"

"no eggs," you reply decisively.

"roger that," hiro says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "i got vanilla and mint chocolate chip. that good?"

"that's great," you agree appreciatively. "can you get something salty too?"

"i'm not made of money, y'know," he quips, but you hear rustling that sounds suspiciously like a bag of chips on the other line.

"oh, really?" you muse, "this is news to me."

hiro snorts.

it's quiet for a second, and you hear the checkout beeping again but it's a bit more distant.

"...you need tampons or anything?" he asks, before mumbling a quiet 'shit why are there so many kinds?' under his breath

"i don't," you're quick to spare him. "but thanks... for thinking of me."

"yeah, yeah," makki brushes off your gratitude and clears his throat. "all in the name of feminism or whatever."

"you're an idiot. come home soon please."

hiro laughs. your stomach hurts a little less. "you got it, boss."

[sacredjake]

Fade Into You

pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: fluff, some angst

here’s a little jake blurb that i couldn’t stop thinking about. every time i hear the this song i think about slow dancing with jake to it, so here it is. i whipped this up super quick so there’s bound to be spelling and grammar mistakes.

You had been mindlessly scrolling on your phone far too long, background noise from the tv filling the silence in your living room. It had been one of those days where lingering thoughts had gotten to you, plummeting your mood quickly. Once excited and feeling like you were filled with light from the sun turned into being on the brink of tears and uninterested in everything. Even your favorite tv show which usually could at least make you laugh, was’t swaying your mood.

The familiar jingling of keys could be heard on the opposite side of the door, signaling that your boyfriend had finally returned home from his short trip. He had only been gone for two days, and even then you normally would’ve been more excited to see him. As he entered your shared house, luggage and guitar case in tow, you briefly looked up to meet his eyes, muttering a small ‘hi’ before returning your attention to your phone. Part of you felt guilty, but you also were just physically and emotionally unable to do much else. You had no energy to spare, using all of it to try and claw your way out from under the metaphorical rock that held you down.

He could tell something was up, you knew he could. This wasn’t how you would typically greet him as he came home from a trip, you knew it, and he knew it. He brought his luggage to sit under the bar of your kitchen that sat on the edge of the living room, separating the two spaces while also joining them. After carefully setting his guitar case down he sat down next to you on the couch and kissed the side of your head, hand resting gently on your thigh while you kept your eyes on your phone.

“Everything okay, baby?”

You met his soft, warm, milk chocolate eyes that were filled with concern, trying your hardest to put on a convincing smile.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Your voice betrayed you, coming out slightly above a whisper as you smiled back softly. His eyes searched yours before you broke eye contact, knowing he would see the sadness you were holding inside.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes until he stood from the couch, giving your knee a loving pat before he stood. He walked over to the bar and grabbed his phone off the counter, going through it as he walked into another room. When he returned he was holding a small speaker, one the two of you used in place of records when you didn’t own said record. You watched as he set the speaker on the mantle above your fireplace, turning it on, and connecting his phone to the device.

Instead of playing anything he pocketed his phone, and turned his attention to the large ebony coffee table that sat in the middle of the living room. Before you could ask what he was doing, he began to push the giant, and heavy, piece of furniture to a far wall. With the table moved there was now a large area of free space, opening up the room. Satisfied with the new placement of the table, he fished his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen once with his thumb. The speaker came to life with the soft sound of drums followed by a jazzy sort of guitar, soft and smooth.

Once again tucking the phone into his pocket, he walked to you silently and extended his hand out to you. He didn’t say a word, but the gentle smile he wore was asking you to dance with him. Although you didn’t feel up to it, you knew he was only trying to help, so you carefully took his hand and set your blanket to the side with the other.

He led you to the middle of the open space with your hand in his, and pulled you closer resting his left hand atop your waist. Your own hand delicately placed on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around the underside of his. He swayed the two of you to the slow beat of the song as you rested your cheek against his shoulder, looking away from him. His shoulder length hair tickled your eyelashes with each blink, but you didn’t dare move it. You heard his contented sigh slip as his cheek rested against your head, and his hand squeezed your own.

‘Won’t you tell me it’s okay, won’t you tell me what to say.

Won’t you hold my hand when nobody else has got the time.’

The two of you stayed that way for a beat or two before you tilted your head back to look at Jake. Instead of meeting your gaze, he closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against your own. He hummed along softly to the song, his chest vibrating against yours. You let his quiet hums lull your eyes closed, enjoying the tender intimacy of the moment.

‘So baby won’t you be my lady, miss you like crazy, I hope you’ll be my, my partner in crime.’

“Jake?” His name came out in a cracked and hushed whisper, like you were afraid to ruin the moment.

“Hm?” He hummed quietly, adding to the peaceful aura. You opened your eyes, finding his were still shut, and peered up at him through your lashes as best you could.

“I’ve never heard this song before.”

His eyes fluttered open as he pulled his forehead away from yours, and kissed where his was just resting. “Mmm, Sammy played it for me a few days ago while we were doing business in L.A. and it reminded me of you.”

His eyes met yours as they began to prickle with tears, a smile making its way onto your face. A few tears fell as you tried to blink them back. Jake smiled warmly at you, using the hand that was on your waist to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I kept thinking about how much I missed you, and how much I wanted nothing more than to hold you, and dance with you to this song.” He continued to wipe your cheeks sweetly until the tears stopped falling.

‘Won’t you tell me how you feel, won’t you make this all come real.’

Wiping his hand on his pants, he returned his hand to your waist to lightly push your hip while his grip on your hand loosened so he could spin you. When you came back around to face him, he secured your hand in his and placed his other hand back on your hip, continuing to sway you to the song.

‘Cause it’s lonely here, and I’m running out of things to say’

“You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset,” His left hand brushed stray strands of hair out of your face, stopping to cup your face, “but you know that don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” You cast your eyes down to your feet, avoiding his amused stare.

“Hey,” Jake’s hand on your cheek shifted under your chin forcing you to look up at him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize baby. I just want you to know that you can always talk to me.”

“I know.”

His brown orbs flicked back and forth between yours trying to get a read on you. Before he could say anything else you leaned into him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making all the bad feelings go away.”

His face softened as if he was more relaxed than he already had been. This time he leaned towards you and kissed your lips tenderly, still swaying to the song. You couldn’t help the genuine smile that sat on your face as he looked at you lovingly. His warmth was infectious.

“There’s that smile. That’s what I’ve been waiting to see.” His thumb ran along the apple of your cheek before his hand found purchase on your hip once again. You rested your cheek on his shoulder again letting your eyes close, feeling content. It was almost like the love was palpable, like you were surrounded in the feeling of his tender loving. Like you were wrapped in it.

“I love you so much, Jake.”

“I love you too, baby. More than you could ever know.”

As the music faded out he pressed another soft kiss to your head. Even after the song ended the two of you continued to sway back and forth for what seemed like hours. Both of you basking in the moment, hearts so full and warm they felt as though they might burst or simply melt into nothing. How you were blessed to be loved by someone like Jake was a mystery to you, but you were thankful to whatever celestial being put him in your path.

And while you wondered how you got to be so lucky to love and be loved by someone like Jake, he was thinking the same thing. He thought he must’ve done something right in a past life to be blessed with you in this one, and he was thanking the universe for bringing you to him.

taglist: @malany-gvf @dannyandthekiszkas @gretasimp @popejosh4ever @gold-mines-melting @indigofallingsky @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @sunandthemoontwinflames @ageofhearingloss @lipstickitty @hellowgoodbye @demolitionndann

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[eveningepiphany]

Mistletoe | H.S

summary: you’re with the band at anne’s house the week of christmas and harry points out you’re both standing under a mistletoe.

warnings: swearing, friends to lovers, kissing, soft harry, suggestive sexual material (no smut, but part two does have!)

a/n: this was originally not going to have any sexual stuff in it but I couldn’t help myself. I also think I’m gonna write a few christmassy imagines because they are absolutely adorable and I love the vibe they have. <3

part two!!

merry christmas everyone x

———

Giggles from all the boys echoed across the lounge.

Cups of cocoa were held in everyone’s hands, blankets draped over us in bunches. Christmas was only 5 days away— life was good.

“‘M nearly out of hot chocolate.” Harry pouts from your left.

A Christmas movie made quiet background noise, and Anne chuckled from across the couch.

“You’re a whiner,” she teased, standing up from where she sat.

She was sporting a green Christmas sweater, “Well, early morning for us, don’t forget.”

She was definitely headed off to bed, and everyone had to be up and ready to get on the road to the BBC breakfast morning show you had. Practically a One Direction pre-Christmas special, since it was still 5 days till Christmas.

You and the boys— well expect for Harry, who’d drive back here with Anne— are flying home for your Christmas break after that.

“Yea, think I’m gonna rack down s’well.” Liam says, pushing from the mound of blankets he was under.

And once one of you cave, the rest usually follow suit, specially knowing you had to be driving the hour and a half to BBC, meaning you had to be up early. You’re expected there at 6:30am and ready to preform by 8:00am.

Everyone starts to disperse from the living room, the TV and Christmas lights getting flicked off, cups finding there way into the dishwasher.

Harry is brushing his teeth in the bathroom when you enter to do the same.

He gives you a smile, his pearly teeth peeking through the foam.

You put your toiletries on the bathroom bench, pulling out your toothbrush, layering some toothpaste on it.

You both dance in the mirror, laughter muffled by a mouthful of toothpaste.

He’s in a red Christmas sweater— which is admittedly too cute for you not to fluster a little at the sight.

You’d figured being so close allowed you room for such feelings to linger, even though you never really know where the line was with them.

Where exactly the platonic feelings bleed into romantic ones— and how normal it actually was.

He was easily one of your best friends, so you try not to entertain these thoughts.

He makes that difficult.

Once you’re both done brushing your teeth, he is eyeing your hair.

It’s let loose, and he wastes not a second longer before sinking his fingers into it.

He combs through it with his hands, tongue darting out the corner of his pink lips as he plaits it at the back.

“What are you doing?” You laugh.

“Pass me a hair tie.” He states.

You truffle through your travel bag, finding one at the very bottom.

He loops it around the end of his work, with a proud little smile on his face.

“Gotta keep it in, mkay?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Harry.” You roll your eyes with a grin.

He follows you out the bathroom, and you’re both headed the same way.

“It will! You wouldn’t want me to be tired tomorrow would you?”

“Tired and grumpy.” You add, knowing how he gets in the morning, like he’s got the world on his shoulders.

“‘M not grumpy! You’re grumpy.” He huffs.

“You both are!” Niall calls from the spare room he’s staying in with Liam.

“Shut up Niall.” You both say in sync, laughing as you run up the stairs.

You were taking Gemma’s old room, which had since been converted into a spare room now she’s moved out for college.

Harry was staying in his room, which you’re sure he’s enjoying being back in his own bed for a bit.

Anne’s room was the only other bedroom up here, down the other end of the hall.

“Woah—“ you say, coming to a stop as you see the window overlooking the town lights.

It’s down Harrys side of the upstairs living space, and you find yourself walking straight over to look out.

There’s a small reindeer shaped lamp that’s turned on, lighting part of the area up with a dim bit warm glow.

“You can see the Christmas lights in town from here.” You point out, a small smile on your face.

You both stand and look out, comfortable silence enveloping you. Even though it’s not your home, you feel at home.

Maybe it’s Harry’s presence, or the small town nature, you’re not sure. But fuck does it feel nice.

After a minute or so, you begin to move, but his hand grabs you.

You fumble to a stop, heart jumping at the feeling of his hand on your arm.

Just friends.

“Harry?” You ask, confused.

He’s smiling at you, meekly, “look.”

He points up and you still.

There are a sprig of little leaves hung on the roof above you. Mistletoe.

“Oh.” You whisper aloud.

“Did you— do you— sorry?” You’re baffled, because if he’s implying you follow through with tradition…

He laughs a little, but theres a nervous air around you.

Maybe he was just pointing it out for a laugh— to scare you a bit.

He moves to press his body close to yours, and you draw in a sharp breath.

You can smell him, that warm toasted vanilla smell that is always radiating off him. It’s sweet and woodsy in nature, comforting in a way you just want to bundle yourself up in it.

“Cant break tradition, can we?” He says, arms skating up to your hips.

“You want to kiss me?” You whisper.

The house is hushed around you, everyone pretty much in bed now.

He doesn’t answer your quiet question with words, instead he nudges your chin up with his nose, moving to place a warm kiss on the pulse point of your neck.

You shudder at the sensation, the way his soft lips feel against your skin.

It feels so wrong and so right all at once.

He moves up to the junction of your neck and jaw, peppering kisses along it, slipping up to your cheek.

You catch your lips on his cheekbone, and you feel any resolve against going further slipping from your grasp.

“Harry…”

“Just tell me if you want me to stop.” He murmurs against your skin.

“Tradition. Gotta stick to tradition.” You reason aloud, but you both know this goes far beyond that.

Usually people stuck under mistletoe share a quick peck if romantic feelings aren’t present. It doesn’t get dragged out, no laying soft lips over as much skin as you can. Unless it’s a hallmark movie, you suppose.

“Mmhm.” He hums against you, lost in the feeling.

You’re not 100% sure who makes the first proper kiss.

He’d pressed a kiss that caught the corner of your mouth, and you kissed the dip between his chin and bottom lip. He’d grazed your upper one, you’d pushed into it.

Like neither of you wanted to take the blame for it, be the one to initiate it.

Before you know it you’ve both sealed your mouths together. Let’s just say it was probably a mutual move.

It was slow, perfect and deliciously warm.

Your hand came up to his face, cupping the ridge of his jaw— pulling him infinitely closer.

His own hands are up slipping up to your hair, “Careful, don’t mess up your work.” you say, not wanting him to screw up the plait he did.

He laughs, taking his hands to your torso, beginning to slowly map out your body, feeling the different dips and curves of it.

He gently takes your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it carefully to see your reaction.

Your stomach drops to your feet at the feeling, toes curling in your fluffy socks.

“Shit.” You whimper as he lets it flick back into place with a pop.

“Y’fuckin’ kidding me, Y/N.” He says into your mouth.

“Your lips are bloody perfect.” He pulls back a little, letting his thumb come up to skate over your swollen, wet lips.

You kiss the tip of his finger, and he visibly tenses.

If you hadn’t already breached the point of no return, this would be what did it.

You take it just into the seam of your lips, letting your tongue swipe over it.

He draws in a laboured breath, clocking you like a hawk as you slide your mouth down to the knuckle of his thumb, sucking on it a little.

“Y/N… fuck.” He groans quietly.

You slip a little further down, looking up at him to catch his eye.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Don’t do that— don’t look at me like that.”

You glide your mouth back to the top of his finger to speak innocently, “Like what?”

“Don’t be coy, y’know exactly what you’re doing to me right now, darling.”

He pulls back from you, and it visibly takes a lot of strength not to give into how bad he wants you.

Instead he compromises, taking your hand and leading you into his room without a word.

“As much as id like to lay you down in my bed and lick into till you come around my tongue,” he pauses, watching your reaction as he says that, knowing he’s wound you up good and proper.

“‘M not doing that while my mums just down the hall and our band mates are down stairs. Because you would not be able to keep quiet.” He shuts the door behind you both.

“So, cuddling it is, sweetheart.”

You’re dumbfounded at how blunt he just was. Dumbfounded and incredibly turned on.

“You can’t just say you want your head between my legs and then follow it with telling me we’re just going to cuddle.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a good cuddle.”

“But I’m—“

He cuts you off, “horny, I know, believe me so am I.”

He pulls your hand to feel his groin, where his cock was perked up in his sweatpants— he was certainly hard under your hand.

“Oh. Oh…” you stutter out, before he pulls it away again.

He shucks the sweater he was wearing over the top of his head, leaving him shirtless— and his tattoos completely visible.

You let your eyes wander along his toned torso and back, watching intently as he pulls the soft green doona cover of his bed down to slip under.

You stand for a moment, and he looks expectantly for you to join him.

“Cmon, Y/N, please?” He draws out the please, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re a goof.” You say, getting in with him.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” You ask once you lay down.

“Well unless you want my boner pressed into you, probably little.” You laugh at the situation you’ve thrown yourselves into.

It feels very different, yet very normal at the same time.

“I’d be just fine with that, I just don’t know how your little guy would cope with it though.”

“Little?” He challenges, pulling you into him so you can feel him rut against you.

“Oh stop it, I was kidding don’t take it so personally.” You grin, swatting his hands from your waist. Admittedly, from what you’ve felt tonight, he feels anything but little.

You pull yourself close to him,trying to fight away the December chill, and he smiles. It quiet for a few heartbeats, you both just enjoying each others presence and warmth.

Without warning he captures your lips with his, and you give straight into it. It’s not rushed, just soft and slow.

You kiss and kiss, tongues dipping between both of your mouths and you feel yourself growing tired. They become sloppy and laced with drowsiness— yet are still just as beautiful.

He pulls himself back with a small inhale, and places a final soft peck on your chin before pulling you further into his chest.

“Night, lovely.” He whispers, sounding blissful.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

———

you can find part two here <3