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empress-simps · 10 days

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James Potter Dating Sirius’ Younger Sister (Head Canons)

Note: These are just random stuff, it has been sitting in my notes app for a month or so? Enjoyy

Oh boy, you are in for a wild ride; just imagine all the chaos this would bring. Best believe you always have a stupid prank to worry about around the corner when your brother and boyfriend are pranksters.

You were a year younger than Sirius, being the middle child, and Regulus the youngest, it wasn’t surprising that you were kind of shunned by Walburga and Orion. You’re a girl, you cannot pass the Black family name onto your children, you were also not the heir. Luckily, big brother Sirius quickly took you under his wing and became the parent figure in your life.

You were sorted into Slytherin, along with Regulus much to your older brother’s dismay.

He threw a fucking fit and practically felt his soul leave his body the first time you told him. Sirius even went as far as tearing up and looking out the window, defeated. (And quite dramatically)

“You should’ve been a Gryffindor, Y/n! I don’t even know why the sorting hat put you in that evil house!” Sirius huffed, pouting.

“Regulus is also in the same house as me, brother.”

“Well it was quite obvious that he was meant to be a Slytherin, Regulus has a stick up his a-“

Although the Marauders mainly pranks the Slytherin students, you were an exception. How could Sirius prank his adorable little sister? You don’t deserve it! (also because James is a tad bit overprotective when it comes to you, Sirius just chalks it up as James being respectful to his younger sibling.)

“Siri, please don’t make Reggie suffer too much.” You plead to your older brother, puppy eyes activating as you heard their plans to set a nasty prank to slytherin students earlier. Sirius’ features soften, “Alright, I’ll talk to James. He’ll be the one to decide.” He pats your head, already formulating an apology for the prank he’s sure will not be cancelled.

James has been harboring feelings ever since he saw you on the train ride to Hogwarts with Sirius in his second year, so it was quite obvious what his opinion is on the matter.

Sirius randomly starts later that evening, “Prongs, Y/n was asking if you could exempt Regulus in our prank-“

“Oh don’t worry I’ll cancel it.”

Peter sputters “You’ll what?”

James looked at them “What? Let’s give them a day off.” Remus did a double take and actually sets his book down after placing his book mark. Yeah, that's how you know it's serious.

“We’ve been planning this for months-“

“Did I stutter, Wormtail?”

The hold you had on James though, seriously.

James Potter is whipped for Y/n Black.

You want some food that the house elves didn't prepare for dinner? Don't worry, James is on the case! He will run to the kitchens and bribe the house elves to make you some of your favorite dishes and what you're craving.

“What’s with the long face, princess?” Sirius asks, seeing you slump down next to him, looking quite defeated.

“Just some housemates, I couldn’t study well because of them.” You grumbled, pulling out your Herbology textbook and trying to focus.

Prongs frowned, snapping him out of his daydreams (which were probably about you.)

“Who?”

James want names.

Who dared interrupt his sweet girl’s (still not his girl though but we don’t talk about that) study session?!

Remus, being the observant sod he is, looks at Prongs, amusement swimming in his eyes as he takes in James’ angry and protective form.

Remus and Peter already has a hunch that Prongs fancy Padfoot’s little sister like… about a few months or so?

James doesn’t really even try to hide it, although it was one of the greatest unsolved mysteries on how Sirius still hasn’t figured it out.

“You reckon Padfoot’s just playing dumb? Even an oaf could see Prongs making heart eyes at Y/n.” Peter stated, snacking on some chocolate frogs as he sat on his bed.

Remus rolled his eyes, also sitting in his bed at their dorm room. The boys in conversation were in their quidditch practice. “He’s quite thick, I bet he wouldn’t even know until they started dating.”

“But Y/n’s innocent- doesn’t even know how lovesick James is.”

Peter was utterly wrong about that part.

You know that James likes you, although you try to ignore it, you can’t.

Because you like him back.

“Go out with me?”

You felt yourself blanch, hearing the familiar cheeky voice behind you.

You nearly broke your neck as you spun around to see James holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers while sporting a nervous smile.

“Does my brother know this?”

“Do you think I’d still be here alive when I tell him I’m utterly in love with his younger sister?”

Sirius almost busted a blood vessel when he found out.

Remus had to physically restrain him from lunging at James.

Yea sure, Sirius views James as his brother from another mother BUT BROTHER-IN-LAW?

“Bloody hell, Pads! Calm your balls down!” Remus grunts, back hugging the boy as he desperately tries to wriggle out of his mate’s grasp.

“No! Let me go, Moony! I just want to have a chat with Prongs!”

“Chat my ass! You were about to bloody knock the living daylights out of him earlier!”

It took a while for Sirius to wrap his head around how one of his brother-from-another-mother fancies his younger sibling.

He won’t lie, he felt betrayed by James for a short amount of time. He distanced himself (for a day, lol) but of course, he couldn’t stay mad at James.

Realistically speaking? James and Remus are the ones who are good enough to date you for Sirius.

“Do you love him?”

Sirius approached you one time in a random hallway. Youwere caught off guard with his question. You never saw your brother serious like that before.

“Sirius, what are you talking about?” You tried to feign innocence, but Sirius saw through that.

“James. I know he fancies you. Have you been shagging-“

You quickly clamped Sirius’ mouth with your hand, looking at your surroundings to check if anyone heard what he said.

“Salazar’s balls, brother! I still have my virtue!” You hissed, “Besides, I’m saving it for marriage.” You told him, making his tense shoulders relax.

“Atleast there’s something good that came out of those boring lectures Walburga taught us.”

“I am not a whore like you, brother.” You snickered, a playful smirk present on your face as Sirius slowly processed what you said.

“Why you little-“

It would take some adjustments for Sirius as he slowly takes in the fact that you and James started dating.

It doesnt help the fact that James always proclaims his undying love for you every chance he gets, which is every time.

Although, before he even asks you to be his girl, he talked to Sirius first, asking for his blessing.

Who is Sirius to deny his little sister and Prong’s happiness?

“I just love her so much…” James sighs dreamily, watching you from the Gryffindor table as you ate in silence beside Regulus, who was uncomfortable and tries to shield you from James’ looks (which he finds creepy).

Sirius can feel his eye twitch.

“Can you stop that Prongs? Just say that to her when you’re alone in a room.”

James frowned, “But you don’t allow us to be alone-“

“Exactly, Prongs. I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend—wife even. She’s my younger sister.”

James perked up, “So you’re alright with her being my wife?!”

Hogsmeade dates with James always.

“Honey, you don’t have to get me that necklace.”

He would buy you anything and everything you land your eyes upon more than 1.5 seconds.

He frowns, looking like a kicked puppy. “But you were staring at it!”

“It just crossed my line of vision-“

James certainly went back and secretly bought it for you.

No one can stop him when it comes to spoiling you.

Effie and Fleamont absolutely adores you.

“So, when is the wedding?” Effie smiled, looking at you and James expectantly

Cue Sirius choking in the background.

You blushed as James cleared his throat awkardly, a beet red blush already dusting his cheeks. “Mum…”

Effie blinks, acting innocent. “What? You guys are about to graduate from Hogwarts in… three months or so!”

Your family found out about the relationship.

Walburga’s stinging slap was marked on your cheek. “Have we taught you nothing, girl?!”

Regulus watched worriedly from the side, feeling helpless as Walburga continued to shout and curse at you.

“You good for nothing brat! I should’ve married you off ages ago! To think you’d turn out to be your older brother… Leave! And never come back as you will be no longer welcomed in the house of black!”

Regulus begged to take him with you.

Having nowhere else to go, you knocked on the door of the Potter Manor tiredly, holding your suitcase and Regulus looking around nervously.

Sirius was the one who answered the door.

“she hit you…” James muttered lowly, softly placing his warm hands on your cheek.

“It’s nothing, James.” You shrugged.

“We’ve suffered worse. I’m sure you’ve known that by now.” Regulus told him quietly, not looking up from his cup of warm tea before his eyes flickered to Sirius.

From that moment on, everything seemed to be better.

You’re happy to get out of the abusive household. Bringing Regulus with you, being reunited with your older brother, and hanging out with your boyfriend anytime you want.

Finally graduated from Hogwarts, James decided to pop the question.

“Padfoot..? You in there?” James nervously knocked on Sirius’ bedroom door.

“In here, Prongs! Hold on.” James heard shuffling before the door opened to reveal Sirius rubbing his eyes, seemingly woken up from a nap. He opened the door to let James in his room.

Sirius eyes him, noticing how fidgety one of his best friends are, his mind assumed the worst.

“I swear to Merlin, Prongs. If you got her pregnant and don’t plan to be responsible for it I’ll-“

James sputters, “What?! No! No one’s having a baby!”

Sirius visibly relaxed, “Then what’s gotten you looking so troubled?”

James pulls out a velvet box from his pocket and opened it to reveal an engagement ring.

“Erm… I’m not Y/n, Prongs.”

Cue a face palm from James, “I’m planning to marry your sister, not you, Pads. I’m asking for your blessing.”

Sirius didn’t think twice before giving him his blessing.

Which was why he and Regulus were dragged alongside Remus and Peter to plan a prefect surprise proposal.

“No no, it’s a bit crooked on the right.” James told Regulus, who was setting up the picnic blanket.

“Sirius, remind me again why I have decided to help this stupidly nervous sod?” He deadpanned to his brother.

“It’s for Y/n, Reggie.”

Regulus frowns, scrunching up his nose as he watches James run around like a headless chicken who’s trying to oversee everything.

“Right…”

“Where’s the ring?!”

Regulus could only sigh as he watched James panicking and looking in every nook and cranny, searching for the velvet box with the ring inside— that was obvious in his back pocket, where he placed it five minutes ago.

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james x reader #marauders x reader #marauders headcanon #harry potter #sirius black #james potter #marauders era #remus lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs

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novelizt · 8 months

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THE CAUTIOUS TALE OF LIVING WITH ONE: ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ fluff with angst. strangers to housemates to lovers.

WC ➺ 6.9k

SYNOPSIS ➺ and they were roommates (kind of)

WARNING ➺ brief mention of poisonous candles + food delivery service (if that diverges from canon), and also mentions of skincare (if you're not into that)

DISCLAIMER ➺ fem! reader; fashion designer! reader; and i have magically added another room on the second floor. your room is across from lockwood's; you're welcome. reader is also implied to be short. lockwood calls reader 'love' but they're in denial.

NOTE ➺ is it obvious that i'm in love with him? i am obsessed with lockwood x designer!reader lately. like, imagine lockwood being her muse and arm candy to fashion shows?? him being styled by her before hunting ghosts so he's ready for interviews after?? power couple, i love them. i hope you love them too.

It was one thing having a meet-cute with a pretty boy you met at a corner store, it was another to find out that he was going to be your landlord.

For starters, it wasn't very cute after the whole 'fantasizing over the possibilities' bit.

Sure, Lockwood sometimes leaves his door open; giving you a clear view of him loosening his tie and then shrugging off his shirt, but that image would often be tarnished by George walking out of his own room without trousers on. At that point, all you could think about was seeing two boys—in varying levels of half-nakedness—and how disturbed you are instead of turned on.

When you lounged about while they were on a case, you'd find articles of clothing strewn all over the place. Some of them even corroded by plasma — gross. You had the courtesy of sorting them out and even cleaning up, but you learned to be cautious of their buddy, Skull (who was best friends with Lucy, apparently), and the newspaper clippings that often narrated gruesome details you wished you could unsee.

Lastly, the fact that you lived in the same house but lived in different worlds. You were up during the day while he was up at night. All three members of Lockwood & Co. had to bear with you because your portion of rent was enough to stabilize their financial situation. Occasionally, you wondered if things would be different if you were talented—if you had the ability to go on their excursions with them; but you'd shoot down those thoughts and convince yourself to sleep instead.

The longing to be part of his world only grew stronger the longer you stayed in the room across his. The halls were ornamented with pictures of Lockwood & Co. Usually Lockwood, since he was the spearhead. With very new headline cut out from the gazette, you imagined being part of their close-knit group. From the outside looking in, they were family. Not by blood but by choice. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd admit that you were jealous, but you believed you had no right to be.

You were studying fashion, like you had always dreamed of. You had a cozy little room in a homely house. Your doubtful parents weren't around to poison your passion... but you missed being one part of a whole. You missed having people to rely on; people to gush to when your teacher said something particularly flattering; people to rush home to after a hard day when all you wanted to do was cry. But you settled for the comfortable silence between the four of you on the rare mornings you were all up at the same hour.

That morning, specifically, you kept your head down as you scuttled behind George's chair, trying to seem inconspicuous about the redness under your eyes. About to ask for some tea, you saved your breath when George pointed to the pot; your favorite brew already steaming inside.

"Thanks," you quipped, grateful to simply have to pour and sip to be engulfed by the comforting warmth of your favorite beverage.

"How was your sleep?" Lockwood asked. His voice was accompanied by the flippant noise of a newspaper being turned. That usually meant everyone was in high spirits and looking out for a new article about their great service.

"Good," you replied. "How was your case?"

Lucy glowed above her plate of waffles. "Amazing—"

"Extraordinary," George said, surprisingly more excited then Lucy.

Their enthusiasm wrapped around you and pulled you into their world for a moment. You smiled and sipped your drink. "You two sound happy. What happened?"

Lockwood looked up from his newspaper as George began to recount the tale. "Lucy kept hearing matches being struck, none of us understood why."

Lucy sat up a little straighter. "Then George found an old candle stump that had been left there. He said it smelled weird—"

"And I recognized the smell of green corn," Lockwood chipped in.

George leaned into his seat, flabbergasted at what that had just accomplished. "The bloke realized it was phosgene! How could you even know that?"

"Because I have plenty of books to read, Georgie," Lockwood said, feigning humility. He finally turned his eyes on you, looking like a kid on Christmas eve. "The candles had been infused with a poisonous substance. Whenever they were lit, the smoke would slowly poison the people who had the misfortune of breathing it in. We would have never figured it out if I didn't know that tidbit of information."

"Amazing," you gasped in true wonder.

Their line of work was risky but these three never ceased to surprise you with their brilliant feats, no matter which day of the week it was.

"Amazing, indeed," Lucy agreed.

Seems that Lucy and George were so overjoyed by their tryst that they either didn't notice or didn't mind that Lockwood had gotten a second biscuit from right under their noses. He held a finger to his lips and you mimed that your lips were zipped. He graced you with your favorite smile and you leaned against the counter to keep yourself upright.

"Oh, I feel hungry for jam," George said out of the blue. He turned in his chair and pointed to the shelf above you. "It's all the way up there. Mind getting it for me, dear housemate?"

"I don't mind at all, housemate," you replied with cheer. You turned to see just how far up he placed it, only to pale. He had stored it on the tallest shelf. It was so high up that you felt like the jar was running away from you.

"So that's where you put it!" Lucy shrieked, outraged. "It was no wonder I couldn't find it! You evil, evil man, George Karim."

"It was for the good of the house," George said discourteously.

"The good of the house my arse—"

Lockwood called your name abruptly. He said your name so carefully, you had a hunch that he was reading your mind. Your eyes snapped to him to find that he was already behind you. Your back virtually pressed to his chest; and man, was he warm. "Let me," he said. It might have just been you, but it sounded like he had spoken in cursive. You were in your head when he placed a gentle hand on your hip. His touch light and now seared into your memory.

"You cried. Did anyone hurt you?" he whispered. It was a struggle to keep yourself still.

"No. Just a rough day," you admitted, hoping your misery didn't blend into your tone.

"Oh," he rasped. "I hope you feel better now, love."

You tried to keep your voice stable. "I do. Thanks."

As quick as he had come, he was gone; delivering the jar to the thinking cloth and resuming his seat. You wonder how could he be so casual when your insides had forgotten how to function. After a moment of (hopefully) covert gaping, you willed your breathing to even and gulped down the rest of your tea.

—

No one knew how it happened. One day, Lockwood's dresser was bee-free; the next, it wasn't.

Apparently, Lockwood had left his window open all night and the bees got excited over the lemongrass essential oil in his drawer.

"Why do you even have lemongrass essential oil in your room?" George asked, ticked off.

Lockwood looked affronted by the question. "Do none of you have methods to relax yourselves?"

Regardless of his answer, you would all have to wait 'til morning to call a bee-keeper to safely take the bees out. For now, Lockwood had been buzzed out of his own room.

Lucy hobbled up to her room and locked the door when George brought up the question about where Lockwood would stay for the night. With a glance, George understood that Lockwood would not go into his room even if he was invited. George retired to his own quarters.

That left you and Lockwood to idle by the stairwell. You didn't know air could feel so thick 'til then.

"Well," Lockwood started, suddenly interested in the carpet. "I might just stay downstairs. He couches are lengthy enough."

The image of the boss of the house, your landlord and friend, retiring pitifully to the aged and sunken sofas was just sad. Pathetic, really.

You shook your head. "Stay in my room. I have a project I'm working on anyway. I won't be sleeping much."

"I couldn't possibly—"

You cut his niceties short. "You have a case to tackle tomorrow, if I recall correctly, and it's reportedly a type two. It won't sit right with me if you don't get ample rest for it. Lucy and George depend on you."

"I guess so," he conceded, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

The short journey to your room was the most shy you'd ever seen Lockwood. He was hunched into himself when he passed your door, welcomed into your corner of the world.

He had only seen glimpses of your abode. That was when you left your door ajar. Seeing it in full felt like a warm hug. The room felt so... you; from the disarray of your weighed blanket to the swaths of fabric laid across your worktable. Despite never having been in here after you moved in, he felt right at home. (Which he was, but it felt different somehow. He couldn't explain it even if you asked him.) The color returned to his face, accompanied by a sheepish smile.

"Make yourself comfortable," you said, pointing to your bed.

You gave him a feeble smile. He returned it with doubled enthusiasm before you dropped into your favorite chair and pulled what looked like the beginnings of a fabulous coat to your sewing machine.

He had settled into your sheets with ease, burying himself in your blanket that immediately drowned him with the smell of you. If he had to die, he'd like to die like this. But also, he'd like not to die because watching you from where he was felt so nice. It felt normal, and the easiness of all of this made him too giddy to rest.

The lights were dimmed and he found that you had a specific light angled at your worktable so you wouldn't disturb him.

He hid a smile under your blanket.

Even when drowse began to creep up on him, he peeled his eyes open to watch your hands work the fabric with the gentleness one would have with a baby. Your love in your work was evident in the way your eyes didn't stray and the way you continued despite the little pricks you'd get while pinning the fabric down.

Lockwood found ghost-hunting cool. He would spend all day watching a fencing match, but he could spend his whole life watching you and your love for your craft. That was the first time he had seen you work and he wished he had been more curious to see it sooner.

He fell asleep to the image of you taking a break and blessing him with a tender smile. He wasn't sure if that part was a dream.

—

George had made the earliest call to have the bees dealt with. Lockwood was relieved and disappointed at the same time. He was glad to have his room back but he'd also like to have an excuse to stay in yours. The rest of the house assumed that he was moody all morning because of the hive, so you took it upon yourself to lighten his mood.

In the middle of breakfast, you had excused yourself. He stared at your back, wondering what could possibly be so important that you skip out on the rare occasion of cake-for-breakfast. His queries came to a halt when you returned with an article of clothing folded between your arms.

It was the same color of the fabric he'd seen you putting together the last night, so it must have been what you were working on. You had finished it quickly. Judging by the smile on your face, you were happy about it, too.

"Ta-da," you sang, unraveling the piece and brandishing it in all its glory.

The outside was slate black serge fabric and the inside was lined with maroon silk or velvet. Whatever it was, it made the ensemble look especially lavish.

The surprise didn't end there. You swayed the lush coat in Lockwood's direction, smile growing as his shock did.

"For me?"

"For you," you confirm.

He takes the coat into his hands, marveling at the feel of it and reeling at the fact that he had watched you make this.

You all watched as a smile formed on his face. His eyes bright when they landed on you. "You're magic, you know that?"

Your cheeks warmed. You offered a modest laugh. "I saw yours covered in plasma burns. I thought you'd prefer a new one."

"I'll treasure this forever," the way he handled it with careful mindfulness proved it. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's the least I can do."

For a moment, you two smile at each other; feeling the words that neither of you were confident to say yet. It was lovely, and something you would definitely be remembering while you screamed into your pillow and kicked your feet at the end of the day.

George's voice brought you back to reality. "Hey, where's our coats?"

Lucy nodded in the midst of chomping down on a biscuit.

"In progress, don't worry," you assured smilingly.

Watching all three of his favorite people smile at each other made Lockwood falter. Well, George was trying to hide his behind his morning paper but they all knew he was smiling. Lockwood couldn't help his smile from growing, too.

—

Lockwood did his best to keep the coat pristine, he really did. He was conflicted between wearing it out or keeping it stored in his armoire. If he wore it, it would get ruined by the ghosts he was inevitably going to face. If he didn't, you would think he didn't appreciate it. There was no lesser evil, both would be equally anguishing.

Inevitably, you asked if he'd tried the coat yet, he had to wear it and show you how much he appreciated it. Later that day, he was harrowed by a single hole that singed straight through the tail of it.

"It isn't that bad, really," Lucy tried to say placatingly. Lockwood simply sunk into himself more.

"It's my favorite coat," he agonized.

"Roommate number three can always make you a new one," George said reasonably. "I mean, she does it for a living."

"Yeah!" Lucy said, trying to bring Lockwood's soul back. "I mean, look at that!"

When he looked up, he didn't know what was worse. The hole in his favorite coat or the boy you had given a wrapped box to. At his front door even.

You waved the boy away with a smile fit for a queen then turned to Lockwood & Co. the moment they entered your periphery. Your smile was warmer for them, but Lockwood was too wrapped up to notice.

He brushed passed you with an uncharacteristically calculated "hello."

"He's in a sour mood," Lucy explained, surrendering her rapier to the umbrella stand.

"He ruined his favorite coat," George said in his horrible impression of Lockwood.

You chuckled and glanced to the stairwell, just missing Lockwood's coat tail before he disappeared into the second floor.

—

"I have something to discuss with you," was Lockwood's way of announcing himself into your room.

You spun in your chair, giving him your undivided attention. It was a miracle that he didn't buckle under your gaze. "Which is?"

"I..." He hesitated for a moment but steeled himself as he recalled the boy and the way you smiled at him. "You didn't tell me you invite your customers into our house."

"Customer?" You tilt your head. He could almost believe you were innocent.

"Yes. That boy today—"

Realization shined in your eyes. Your light laugh cutting through his sermon. "That boy wasn't a customer, Lockwood."

"Oh, really?" He quized. He placed his fists on his hips, looking more like a disgruntled mother than an intimidating agent. "Then why did he have a box, with a ribbon?"

You stood, placing your steady hands on his shoulders. He tried not to hold his breath but he had audibly gasped. If you heard it, you showed no signs of it. "Anthony Lockwood, I would tell you if I was doing business in your house—"

"*Our* house. You live here, too."

"Fine," you relented. "our house, but that boy was my cousin. He asked me if the gift he got for his girlfriend was nice enough. He needed a woman's opinion and he got it."

The information turned in his mind. When it had clicked, his expression faltered. "Oh."

"Yes," you chuckled. "Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be," you reassured. "I wouldn't play with your trust like that. Besides, I wouldn't dare do business here. I have my own boutique now."

"You do?" You were surprised that he looked more excited than you.

"I do," you confirmed with a smile. "So, you won't have to put up with me for much longer."

"What?" His smile dropped. It made your smile falter.

The tides had turned. He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked at you with the intensity he had reserved for the down-turned photographs in the house. His eyes begged for an answer and you gave it to him: "I'm... not going to be staying here much longer."

"Why?" He was demanding instead of asking.

You assumed it was because your monthly pay was important for him to keep Lockwood & Co. in business. You gave him a humble smile but he was hurt by it. "Don't worry, I'll still provide my share of rent so you can keep Portland Row afloat. I can help more when my business takes off. This place is worth saving. I'll just be living somewhere else."

His grip on your shoulders tightened. "But why?"

The laugh you gave him was humorless. "What do you mean 'why'? I'm not really an agent, Lockwood. I'm a tailor. You don't need me here."

"Yes, I do," he confessed. He realized what he had said, processed your shining eyes, and froze. "I mean— we all need you. The coat you made me is one of a kind."

You deflated. "Ah... Well, I can be Lockwood & Co.'s personal tailor . . . from a distance."

No, he wanted to scream, but he had run his mouth when he hadn't intended to. He didn't trust himself to speak again, opting to nod instead. You took it as an acceptance and stuck your breaking heart to it.

"From a distance..." he whispered. He didn't want to believe it. Envisioning your room emtpy was like living in a world you didn't exist in. It was a nightmare.

—

"I hear rent is costly in that part of town, perhaps you should stay here."

Lockwood was as subtle as a gun. He dropped that statement on you as you folded up your first box. You blinked at him until you registerered what he said.

"I can handle it."

"No. I insist you stay here," he continued. "As a friend—" he tried not to wince. "—it would weigh on my conscience to let a friend spend so much more on rent when it's perfectly comfortable here, in Portland Row — no where else."

He heard George mutter, "very suave, Lockwood," behind him. Lockwood chose to ignore it.

Your brows furrowed. To his relief, you took your hands away from the box. To his horror you took an armful of clothes out of your cabinet.

"Where is this coming from, Lockwood?"

"Nowhere!"

You didn't seem convinced. His anxiety only built as you packed more clothes into the box.

"You're doing this because you're worried?" you asked like you had an inkling of why he was really badgering you. He hoped you didn't.

It's not exactly the tune he was playing but he goes along with it. "Exactly. I don't know what kind of person you'd be rooming with, you know. They could be dangerous."

You contemplated it. You didn't say a thing for a long while and Lockwood was on the verge of breaking down when you had spun to face him, finally abandoning the box.

"Come with me then."

His blood stopped running for a second. "Come again?"

You rolled your eyes and Lockwood knew he's in way too deep because he thought you look pretty doing something as simple as that.

"Stay the night with me one time, so you know I'm safe." You stared at him, waiting for an answer.

He didn't know what to think. When you say it like that, he felt like he wouldn't be able to talk you out of it. You leaving felt more real then, and he was terrified of it.

"Oh . . . Okay."

"Okay," you repeated, giving him a smile.

He tried to return it but it lacked conviction. He couldn't feel his face when dread was nagging at him.

—

Your not-yet new place wasn't Portland Row. Perhaps that was enough reason to dislike it, or maybe it was the fact that this place was taking you away from home.

No, it was definitively he guy who emerged from the third door in the flat. The other two doors were your soon-to-be room and the shared bathroom.

Lockwood shared a bathroom with George, so, it was serious when he got the feeling that sharing a bathroom with Guy was worse.

Guy introduced himself as Leo. You greeted him with a pleasant smile but all Lockwood could think of was that Leo wasn't a name, it was a star sign.

"You'll be staying the night then?" Leo inquired. He wasn't doing anything malicious yet Lockwood felt the urge to size him up. Lockwood was tall on his own, he was intimidating when he wanted to be. Leo wasn't sure what to do with him standing behind you like an oversized guard dog.

"Yeah, just to get the feel of things," you replied. You had given Lockwood mercy when you unlocked the door and pushed it open.

He caught a glimpse of... absolutely nothing. There was a mattress on the floor but Leo didn't even have the courtesy of dressing it up with a bedspread. He wished you turned around and booked it then, but you simply gave a gentle smile and accepted it.

"Kay..." Leo said slowly. "I have an outing with friends so you have the whole place to yourself. Just remember to lock the front door properly. It doesn't click into place sometimes."

"Got it, thanks."

Leo gave you a copy of the keys and went on his merry way, actively avoiding Lockwood's pointed stare on the way out.

Being alone with Lockwood had thawed you. You laxed your shoulders and dropped your make-believe smile before grumbling at the sorry excuse of the bed you had for the night.

"Not what I expected it to be... I thought we could make it a sleepover or something but that is just sad."

"Very," Lockwood agreed. He closed the door to your room for the time being, saving both of you the trouble of agonizing over it. "Shall we head home then?"

"We're staying the night," you reminded him, pressing your finger into his chest with every punctuated word. "Besides... maybe this place has something Portland Row doesn't."

"Which is?"

"I don't know yet. I said 'maybe'."

The corner of his lip quirked up.

He watched as you rounded to the kitchen. It was connected to the receiving room, separated by a thin island rowed with barstools. He didn't have to peek to know the fridge was empty, he had your deep-set frown to tell him.

With a smile, he offered: "Shall I phone our favorite place?"

You sighed in delight, giving him that smile that made him melt. "Yes, please."

—

The restaurant you favored was always on time, but the delivery man had gone to Portland Row by mistake (since it was the usual delivery when Anthony Lockwood called in.) He had to go back and ask for the address.

The sun was gone by the time food arrived to your not-yet flat.

"Thanks, mate. Get home safe," Lockwood bade the delivery boy before closing the door.

"Finally," you cheered, setting out the table. Thankfully, Leo had the mind to keep plates, cups, and cutlery on hand. "I'm starving."

"You and me both," he grinned.

Together, you divided the dishes evently (Lockwood sliding two more dumplings onto your plate, simply because he knew you liked them) and filled the cups with tea. The light above the island was pitiful but it framed you in a nice, yellow glow.

His cheeks were full and you were stuffing your face, but the setting was so domestic he couldn't help but indulge himself. If only you two were at home, in Portland Row; that would have made this perfect.

After you had filled your bellies and washed down your food, Lockwood cleaned the table while you got started on the dishes.

"I... kind of miss home," you admitted.

Even when your backs were facing each other, Lockwood knew you were frowning. "We can go home now, if you want."

Silence.

He hoped you would agree, relent, and stay with him at Portland Row, but his hopes died when you let out a sigh. He chanced a glance at you and found you shaking your head. "Just for the night," you said, more so to convince yourself.

His heart deflated but Lockwood would follow you to the ends of the earth, so he just agreed and stayed silent.

Once he had finished cleaning up his side of the kitchen, he dropped the cloth beside the sink and, for whatever reason, trapped you between his arms while he reached over to wash his hands.

You had forgotten how to breath. Rightfully so. You were transported back to the morning you felt his warmth on your back. He had reached for something because you couldn't, he had noticed your red eyes when no one else did.

You were glad he couldn't see your face. You felt heat behind your eyes and a tightness in your throat. It occured to you that if you moved in with Leo, there would be no more of Lockwood's quiet moments of attention.

Getting away from him was the point of you moving away, but with that reality being so close, it hit you.

You would miss him terribly, you would miss the Lockwood & Co. family terribly. The question of 'was it worth the pain of staying?' haunted you at night. You would die for them, but it hurt so bad being the odd-man out for the rest of your life. And maybe you were overestimating how much they needed you around because they didn't need you at all, did they?

Your mind went blank when Lockwood backed away. The tears fell but you kept your head bowed to hide them.

There was an air of suffocating peace when Lockwood said, "I'll go look for a bedsheet."

"Okay," you uttered.

As he walked away, his footsteps rang out in your ears; Footsteps you've grown accustomed to because he would sneak into the library at ungodly hours, thinking everyone was asleep. Not you, at least.

He wasn't doing anything special but it quieted the pandemonium behind your eyes.

—

You had spent an extra few minutes in the restroom before you got around to washing your face. When you had arrived to the room, Lockwood had used a throw blanket from the receiving room couch as a bedsheet. He laid on his back, one arm on his stomach and the other splayed out to your side of the bed. His coat was shrugged off his shoulder and sprawled over his torso.

He raised his head when you entered. "Hi, love."

"Hello," you greeted with a small smile. You had to bend your knees to sit at the end of the bed.

You were reaching for your skincare before Lockwood sat up and seized your wrist. He was always gentle with you. That didn't stop you from burning it into your memory. You looked at him with a question in your eyes.

He held up two thin packages to answer you. "Face masks. You said we could have a sleepover situation, didn't you?"

You suppressed a laugh as you examined the packaging. He got collagen masks, from your favorite brand. Did he know that? You couldn't be sure. "Where did you get these?"

"From my bag?"

"I meant where you bought them," you nipped. "and since when were you into stuff like this?"

"I got them from store you told me about," he answered, leaning back on his elbows. "and I've been a regular customer since you told me my whiteheads could rival a strawberry's. It hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry, you big baby," you snort, reaching out to pinch his cheek. He doesn't even fight it. "but it was true! And your skin looks so much better now. What else have you been using?"

He laid back fully, propping his arms behind his head. "I got that matcha cleanser you kept raving about, a PH-balanced toner... Oh! And that sunscreen you recommended me that one time."

You nodded, impressed by his dedication. "You look so much prettier now thanks to me."

"I know," he smiled. "Now are we going to do the masks or am I do I have to jump out this window and wrestle a ghost for some entertainment?"

You chuckle, patting his chest to pacify him. "We're doing the masks."

After a bit of trying to get the masks on right, failing, laughing at each other, then helping each other get them on right; you both laid back. Lockwood pillowed your head with his arm and blanketed your tummy with his coat.

The masks had to be left on for 20 minutes and what better way to pass the time than talk each other through existential crisis?

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Lockwood & Co. has done so much for people. You got commendation from Penelope Fittes! That's worth something, you know."

"I know that. I just can't help but feel like... I haven't done enough," the admission is like a weight off his shoulders. "People don't really crowd to be part of Lockwood & Co."

You turned your head, looking quite freaky with the paste-white mask. Then he sees your faultless eyes through the gaps and he falls all over again. "Well, you have so much life ahead of you to do more. The agency's impact on the world can't be ignored though, Lockwood. You've serviced a plethora of people from all walks of life. And for what it's worth, I want to be part of Lockwood & Co."

A disbelieving expression crossed his face. "Really now?"

You nodded then returned your eyes to the ceiling. You felt too vulnerable to admit it to his face. "I'm jealous that Lucy and George are fully capable agents. I love them, don't get me wrong, but I feel so inferior. I don't even have a choice to be part of that world."

"What are you talking about? You are part of that world. You're part of our world." He nudged your side. "You are part of Lockwood & Co., love. You always have been, ever since you stepped through the door."

"Yeah? Well... not in the way they are. They have talent. I can just wish I could help," you sighed.

He took a moment to think then he turned his head to you. "How about this; you can help us do research. I know it's not as snazzy as swinging a rapier but it's a pivotal part of our operations."

Your brows furrowed. "Really? You'd let me do that?"

"I would have invited sooner you if I knew you were eager to help," he replied. You weren't looking at his face but you knew he was smiling. "Only part-time though. You have a talent for what you do now."

"Thank you," you said, but he got the feeling that you didn't believe it.

"I mean it," he insisted. He pinched the coat that was draped over you. "This coat you made me; people will be fighting for a design just like it within the first year of opening your boutique. Mark my words."

"I won't give it to them," you replied. "this coat is one of a kind."

"How generous of you, but it would be a bad business decision to deprive the fine people of a coat as refined as this one."

"No," you chuckle. "I mean, this coat is really one of a kind." You flipped the collar of the coat over. Lockwood hadn't seen it before, but be saw it then. "See?" And see he did.

His initials and surname were embroidered on so carefully that it took the breath from his lungs. That wasn't all. Beside his name was a cheeky embroidered imitation of his favorite giraffe mobile and a little image of his rapier.

"It was a pain to do so I won't be doing it for anyone else," you told him, like you hadn't just put the stars in his sky. "Your coat is my magnum opus."

"Oh," he whispered, running his fingers over the threads. "Now I feel bad. Plasma burned part of it."

"I'll make you a new one in a year, maybe." You pinch his side. "Keep it in one piece until then, okay?"

"Okay..."

"And don't tell people about the embroidery," you said sternly. "I'm not made for it, and my fingers still hurt from trying."

"I promise," he chuckled. He lied. He would have to boast about it to Lucy and George. Maybe even Kipps, if he pissed him off enough.

"We still have about ten minutes before we take the masks off. Tell me a story," you requested.

"Bossy," he smirked.

"Story, please," you rectified.

He conceded. He thought about which story to tell you before settling with the original Beauty and the Beast. You scooted closer with every word he said.

"Beast is much nicer in this version," you said, stifling a yawn behind your palm. Lockwood's arm was going numb but he didn't have to heart to move when you were already so comfortable.

"Asking her to marry him every night when she's trapped in his castle is nice?"

"Consent is key," you retort. Your voice slurred off at the end. When your breathing evened, he knew you had fallen asleep.

He tried not to be endeared, but you had cuddled into his side. Your fingers found his shirt and clutched it like it was your lifeline. The best he could do was smile to keep the urge to scream in.

When the time for your masks were up, he peeled away your mask and then his, tossing them aside then readjusted the coat to cover you fully.

He did his best to refrain himself, but he was never good at that when it came to you. He dipped his head to allow himself a kiss to the crown of yours.

—

You two (read: he bent to your will) decided to walk home.

The morning was sunny and the breeze was friendly, you couldn't resist a little fresh air and the perfect excuse to hold hands with Lockwood. In your defense, he was the one who offered. "I steer, you relax," is what he said.

So, you let your mind wander as he steered you in the right direction. He gave your hand little tug when you two were about to turn a corner, tapped on your knuckles when waiting to cross the street, and, sometimes, surprising you with a cheeky pinch to your side when you weren't paying attention. There were so many smiles exchanged, you weren't sure who was enjoying the walk more.

Disappointment began to swim in your belly as Arif's came into view. Just a bit more and you'd have to let go.

Again, Lockwood demonstrated his scary ability to know what you were thinking. Instead of walking passed Arif's, he walked you right into it. He held the door for you and flourished his hand quite dramatically, too. "Ladies first."

"What a gentleman," you chuckled.

You wore matching smiles as the bell jingled above your heads and the aroma of fresh dough invaded your senses.

Lockwood reluctantly pulled away. "Go find a seat. I'll order."

You walked about, catching sight of a few couples who were out to enjoy the beautiful morning too, before settling down in a seat in the corner. It was a table for two and the wooden seats reminded you of home.

Lockwood didn't take too long himself. He found your table and set the goodies down. Your favorite doughnuts were a staple, but he ordered a slice of rainbow cake, too.

You had a bite of doughnut before asking about it.

"For you," he said, pushing the cake in your direction. "Consider it a parting gift."

Parting was easier said than done. In lieu of last night's events, you couldn't imagine leaving Portland Row for the lifeless flat. The only reason you had been able to sleep was because Lockwood was there—and he was Lockwood, no explanation needed. You'd rather feel like the odd one out and bask in the occasional warmth of Anthony Lockwood than be a lonely tenant in Leo's flat.

With a smile, you pushed the plate away. "No, thank you."

His lips twitched, holding back the beginning of a smile. "Oh, come on. Take it."

You shook your head, a smile forming on your face. "You have it. Congratulations on hiring the best part-time researcher in London."

He discarded decorum by propping his elbows on the table. "Will this part-time researcher stay in Portland Row?"

"Maybe," you quipped.

"You torture me," he groaned, setting his head on the table.

"As if 'in Portland Row — no where else' is subtle."

"I tried to be," he defended indignantly.

"I could forget about it, if..."

He raises his head, anticipation written on his face. "If...?"

"If you get me that coffee you promised me when we met. You haven't fulfilled that promise yet, and it's been a year."

He placed a hand on his heart, mouth falling open as he feigned being shot. "How cruel of me. Will you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"Coffee first," you tutted.

"Coffee first," he promised, recovered from the make-believe bullet.

For the final stretch, Lockwood dragged his feet and on purpose. He pretended not to know which house was his (even if it was infamously the last one on the street,) and even stopped and stared for a few infuriating moments to bide his time.

"That isn't our door, love."

"Your name plaque is right there, Anthony, you can't fool me this time."

"Really? Perhaps we should visit the opthalmologist then, I can't read it. The doctor's is that way."

"Lockwood..."

"Okay, fine." He conceded, letting you pull him along.

You got as far as the first step before he had tugged you back, hard. The momentum had sent you into his chest. "Oh, for goodness sake—"

"You're cute when you're mad," he smiled. His gaze dipped down to your lips, successfully making your breath hitch. "Consent is key, right?" You're thouroughly convinced that he picked that moment to swipe his tongue across his bottom lip and rile you up. "May I?"

It felt like you were using the last of your air and patience as you whispered, "You may."

Patience was thrown to the wind. He dipped you—like in those corny movies you swore you hate—and kissed you like his life depended on it.

It wasn't a life changing kiss. It was how much you'd been anticipating it that made it feel like a life changing kiss. He smiled against your lips and you couldn't help but laugh into his. You could hear the applause in your head, resounding and drumming the beat of your heart. There was hollering, too. It kind of sounded like—

You pulled away reluctantly. You had to place your hand between you because Lockwood had chased your lips.

Still dipped in Lockwood's hold, you recognized Lucy and George even if they were flipped in your vision and still in their pajamas. Their applause died down slowly.

"Uh-oh," George said seriously. "we've been caught, Luce."

"Oh, my, my, my," she played along, smile turning the right way as Lockwood pulled you up and oriented you properly.

His smile was bright, so you hadn't a clue whether he'd done it on purpose. You had a hunch though. You were just about ready to reprimand him, but he'd stolen the words from your lips by stealing another cheeky kiss.

There was no use holding back your smile when you felt him smiling against you again. You would have do deal with shennanigans just like this as a, now, permanent resident of 35 Portland Row.

Caution: Anthony Lockwood's magnetic field is too strong, and he clearly had a new addiction to your lips.

NOTE ➺ something has possessed me. i have never written this much back-to-back. if you're in the middle of a lockwood brain rot too, i've posted a few other fics you might like.

please don't be shy to reblog or share your thoughts in the comments! the world needs a little more anthony lockwood.

(my favorite fic writer also noticed me so i'm in my giggly girl era eeeee—)

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood fluff #anthony lockwood angst #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction

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lilacmingi · 29 days

Text

OPPOSITES ATTRACT

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with ne ir any of my works.

Pairing: Gryffindor!Jongho x Slytherin!fem reader

Word count: 4,408

Note: Final installment in the Hogwarts AU series! If you don’t know, the Hogwarts imagines for the other members are linked at the end! Reminder that this is an imagine from my Wattpad from 2023 so there will not be extra parts or continuations

Jongho wizzed through the air, holding the Quaffle close to him as he zoomed towards the opposing team's hoops, successfully tossing the ball through the goal, scoring yet again for Gryffindor.

"Yes!" You cheered only to quickly clamp your hand over your mouth afterwards, your outburst earning you some glances from your fellow housemates.

Maybe next time you should sit with the Gryffindors—then again, you'd stand out like a sore thumb. It was hard not to cheer for Jongho. He's the best quidditch player on the whole team, watching him is enough to put you on the edge of your seat. Yes, you two are from opposing houses, but you're the best of friends and you don't let old rivalries stop you from hanging out together.

The game came to a close and Gryffindor took the victory as expected. You had to keep your excitement at bay as you exited the stands to meet with your friend on the ground, holding it in long enough to part ways with the rest of your house.

Jongho approached you looking oh-so-handsome as usual, a thin layer of sweat on his face giving him a post-victory glow.

"That was awesome!" You squeaked.

"It was nothing." He huffed.

"Nothing? Every time I watch you play I'm on the edge of my seat. Honestly, there was a couple times I wasn't sure you'd score, but you pulled through every time."

His warm laughter filled the air as his cheeks turned pink, though that could have just been from all the activity out on the field.

"You act like I'm the best player on the team."

"You are!" You said enthusiastically, giving him a light punch on the arm. "We should celebrate your victory."

"By doing what?"

"We could go to Hogsmeade and grab a butterbeer." You suggested. "My treat."

Jongho's eyes lit up.

He loved butterbeer. You could remember the first time he tried it, the fond memory replaying in your head.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

That heart-melting gummy smile of his broke out on his face as he nodded.

"Sounds good."

You and Jongho had been friends from day one, literally. You met on the train to Hogwarts and he was nervous as ever. He had only just recently found out there was magic in his family lineage and wasn't sure what to expect at Hogwarts as he had only found out it's existence a few weeks prior to the start of he school year.

"I don't know anything about this place and I'm nervous to be away from home for so long."

"There's nothing to be nervous about. You'll have fun, trust me." You told him. "I've been looking forward to this for a whole year. My older cousin told me they have entire feasts at Hogwarts. There's all sorts of food lined up on these really long tables that stretch across almost the entirety of the room."

"Wow. That sounds much better than instant ramen."

"Instant? Muggles have instant ramen?" You asked with wide eyes.

"Oh. It's not instant, it's just made in a shorter amount of time. We don't have magic so we have meals that can be made easily."

"Ooh. How long does it take?"

"Usually about three minutes unless you want to add extra stuff or cook your noodles longer."

"Three minutes is still really quick." You responded. "That's amazing."

"I guess it is." He chuckled.

Jongho thought so-called "muggle" things weren't special. After all, it's just how he goes about daily life, but seeing your reaction was amusing to him.

The both of you became friends very quickly during the duration of the train ride. You even sat together at the sorting hat ceremony, where you briefly explained what would occur.

"I hope we get into the same house together." You remember Jongho saying.

Unfortunately, you got sorted into different houses, you in Slytherin and him in Gryffindor, but that didn't bother you, nor did it stop the both of you from spending time together.

You and Jongho signed up to take a muggle appreciation class together where you paired up with each other since the professor wanted muggles or half-bloods to pair with purebloods. That was one of your favorite classes. You enjoyed learning about how muggles got through everyday life without magic as well as some of the things they had that you didn't, like pens, you found those to be quite fascinating. Your professor had a few and allowed everyone to try them out to see what they thought. You loved the pen and wondered why the school never used them instead of quills.

"You did so good at the game yesterday." You told Jongho.

He smiled, looking down bashfully. "Thanks."

"You're the best quidditch player at Hogwarts." You continued praising him.

Jongho was visibly holding back a bright grin, doing his best to keep it concealed as he fiddled with the packaging of his chocolate frog he purchased from the candy trolley.

"I get so caught up in the game. I'm sure my housemates want to kick me out." You chuckled.

He had seen you cheering him on many times before, even when Slytherin was against Gryffindor. It warmed his heart that you always cheered for him despite being in opposing houses and seeing you in the stands always gave him an energy boost during quidditch games, but he would never say it aloud.

Once you arrived at Hogsmeade, you couldn't contain your excitement, rushing Jongho off the train. He was fairly excited as well, but he wanted to keep his cool, putting on a calm exterior as he followed behind you through the metal archway with the town name on it.

Jongho's eyes glimmered in wonderment as he gazed at all the shops like it was his first time seeing them.

"Here we are." You announced, looking up at the sign for The Three Broomsticks.

Jongho was quick to step ahead of you and hold the door open. It was a small gesture but it made your heart flutter. Stepping inside the tavern, the both of you made your way to the bar, seating yourselves on the wooden stools that lined it. Someone came around shortly and took your orders before grabbing a couple glass steins, filling them with the sweet amber liquid you and Jongho came for.

"Two butterbeers." The barkeep said, setting the glasses down.

You rummaged in your bag and placed enough coins on the tabletop to pay for the beverages.

"Hey." Jongho frowned in disappointment, his hand halfway shoved in his pocket from trying to dig out money to pay himself.

"It's my treat." You smiled, lifting your stein up. "We're celebrating your big win, after all."

Jongho raised his large mug as well, clinking it with yours before taking a few large gulps of the butterscotch-flavored beverage.

Jongho let out an ahh sound, setting his glass down on the bar top. You chuckled softly at the foam that clung to his upper lip which made him look even more adorable than usual.

"What?" He inquired.

"You've got a little something here." You gestured on your own face.

"Oh." He laughed, his ears turning a light shade of pink as he grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth.

"You got hit pretty hard by that one chaser on Slytherin. I thought you were going to get knocked off your broom. Are you alright?"

Jongho instinctively rubbed his shoulder while thinking back on the moment he got rammed in the side by one of Slytherin's chasers the day before.

"Yeah I'm fine. A little sore, but he didn't hit me that hard. It's nothing I can't handle."

You shook your head and stifled a laugh.

Jongho was a tough cookie and a strong person both mentally and physically, but that didn't stop you from checking up on him.

"So, should we shop while we're here?" You inquired before taking another drink of your butterbeer.

You could see the faintest hint of a smile playing at Jongho's lips. He loved Hogsmeade and always seemed so entranced by what it had to offer. Even after all these years you can still see how mesmerized he is by everything.

"We could... you know since we're in town." He responded.

"Alright. We can go wherever you want."

His face lit up at your offer.

Once your glasses had been emptied and your craving for butterbeer had been satiated, you and Jongho set off into Hogsmeade to browse the shops and see what grabbed your attention.

"Could we go into Spintwitches?" He asked you in an almost unsure manner, but you could tell by the gleam in his eye that he really wanted to go.

"Of course. Like I said, we'll go wherever you want."

As soon as you stepped foot in the sporting goods shop, you could see Jongho's face brighten, his eyes darting to all the different displays inside.

"Check it out." He marveled, scurrying over to one of the brooms on display.

Your eyes moved to the card set up with the name written across it.

"Hogwarts House Broom." You read aloud.

"It's enchanted to display the house colors of the owner." Jongho informed.

"Woah."

"Yeah. It's pretty awesome, isn't it?"

You nodded.

Though you were a pureblood wizard and Jongho was muggle-born, he seemed to have much more knowledge on quidditch than you. He knew anything and everything about types of brooms and what they do, whereas you didn't.

"This one can go up to seventy miles per hour." He pointed. "It's called the Silver Arrow. You see how the broom itself is made to look like an arrow?"

You nodded.

Honestly, you could listen to Jongho talk about brooms all day just to be able to see the enthusiastic expression on his face. Often times you find yourself thinking back on the day you first met him and how nervous he was to be attending Hogwarts. Now, he fits right in.

Jongho continued spouting off facts about each broom while you both perused the store for a few more minutes before deciding to move on.

"Where to next?" He inquired.

"How about Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop?"

He nodded and you both made your way in that direction.

Upon entering the quaint shop, the scent of parchment and ink reached your senses, a content smile settling onto your features. Displayed on the shelves were different quills that ranged in appearance. Some had fluffy, white feathers while others were flat with patterns on them. Your attention was drawn to a stunning peacock quill, the vibrant array of colors piquing your interest.

You had always been drawn to the captivating quill ever since you enrolled at Hogwarts years ago. Though with its flamboyant appearance, you had passed on buying one, not wanting to cause a distraction during class.

"I never really cared for quills." Jongho commented. "They're difficult to use and you have to keep dipping it in ink."

"Yeah, I can't understand why the school would still want to use them when there are things like pens."

"Ah." He chuckled, thinking back on when your professor for muggle appreciation class allowed everyone to try one out. "You were mesmerized by those things."

"How could I not be? They're much more convenient than a quill. You don't have to constantly dip it in ink."

"Stopping to dip your quill in ink seems like a waste of time if you think about how many times you have to do it during one class period." Jongho mentioned.

"Exactly!" You pointed. "I didn't even think about that."

A small laugh of amusement slipped out of Jongho as he shook his head. Seeing you getting fired up about pens versus quills was entertaining to him.

Moving right along, you started browsing the parchment and notebooks stacked on a shelf. One in particular had caught your eye and had you walking over to it, picking it up from the stack. You ran the pads of your fingers over the intricate embossed design in the leather of the notebook, tracing the swirls and curls on the cover. You enjoyed journaling and writing down good and exciting things that have happened to you, even sometimes writing down bad things just to vent your emotions. The pages in the current notebook you owned were only halfway filled, so there was no need to purchase the one you held in your hands, but it sure was pretty. Maybe you'd come back for it later when you needed a new journal.

You proceeded to the next display, perusing the items for a few moments before noticing Jongho's absence. He was standing with you when you first entered the store, but now you weren't sure where he had wandered off to.

After searching the shop for about a minute, you found Jongho looking at an inkwell filled with rainbow ink, turning the small glass jar around in his hand with a confused pout on his pretty lips that had your heart doing front flips.

"Do people actually use this?" He asked once you were close enough to hear him.

"Only for fun or pranks. It's not really suitable for classwork."

"Ah." He placed it back on the shelf. "People here seem to love their jokes. Prank quills, prank socks, a prank shop."

"Yeah." You chuckled. "Some people do. You'd be surprised how good business is at Zonko's."

"Are you ready to go?" Jongho asked, looking to see that you didn't have anything in your hands.

"Yeah. I didn't find anything."

"Alright. Moving on, then."

Your day at Hogsmeade was a lot of fun. You had stayed in town so long that you decided to grab lunch. Unfortunately, you weren't quick enough and Jongho had paid for your meal, which you shyly thanked him for. At the end of the day, you each left town with a bag of sweet treats from Honeydukes and a new piece of clothing from Gladrags. Jongho found a nice jacket and you managed to snag a pair of pants you had your eye on for a while.

"Thanks for taking me out today." Jongho told you on your walk back to the school.

"It was nothing. I wanted to celebrate your big win, plus I needed a day out. Can't be focused on studies all the time."

"Right." He chuckled.

Once inside the castle, the both of you parted ways to head to your respective dormitories, Jongho standing in the hallway for a moment, watching you walk away.

I should have said something. He thought to himself. It would have been the perfect opportunity. He let out a short huff of disappointment.

Maybe next time.

Jongho took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He had gone over everything at least a hundred times.

"Just say what you need to say. It's no big deal."

Gryffindors were supposed to be courageous and brave, but Jongho was currently lacking that trait. He wanted so badly to confess his feelings to you, but all he could think about was the many ways you'd reject him:

"I only see you as a friend."

"I like someone else."

"I'm sorry. I don't feel the same."

"I don't date muggles."

He groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. It shouldn't be this big of a deal.

If only he had something that could help him out, give him that little boost of courage he needed.

Then, suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his head. A bravery potion. That's it! He knew how to make that. He just learned it a few weeks ago in potions class. Pulling out his cauldron, he went through the ingredients he remembered were used in the concoction, pulling them out and lining them along the desk.

Less than an hour later, he held a glass bottle in his hands, swirling the liquid around inside while examining it. He had never taken a potion before and was a little nervous, but he needed this. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to confess properly unless he had just a little bit of courage.

"I hope this works." He murmured before downing the potion.

You were walking down the hallway when Jongho came around the corner with a little pep in his step. It was evening and classes were over for the day, so you assumed that's why he appeared so chipper.

"There you are, pretty."

Your body stiffened, your heart leaping at the unexpected nickname.

"Pretty?" You whispered under your breath.

As soon as you were within reach, Jongho took hold of your hand and rubbed his thumb affectionately across your knuckles.

"I'm glad I found you. We need to talk."

"We do?" You questioned. "About what?"

"Follow me."

Jongho led you down the stone corridors of the castle until you arrived at a somewhat secluded area of the school that was, for the moment, free of any students or teachers.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, mildly concerned that he needed to discuss something serious with you.

"You're so beautiful." He sighed out, ignoring your question. "Have I ever told you that?"

Your eyes widened as a faint warmth touched your cheeks. "No."

"You are. Y/n, you are so stunning."

What's with the sudden compliments?

Jongho gazed at you dreamily. "You make my heart race every time I'm near you and when I see you in the crowd at quidditch games cheering for me, it makes me feel so giddy I can't even explain it. Sometimes I wish I could run up to you after a successful game and kiss you. I'd lift you off your feet and spin you around just like in the movies."

"Jongho." You uttered in disbelief.

"I love you so much, Y/n."

You could see the look in his eyes and tell by the way he was sputtering all of these confessions that something wasn't right.

"Are you okay?" You asked him.

"I'm fine." He giggled. "Better than ever."

You pressed your lips together in concern, cupping his cheeks to examine him.

"Please kiss me, Y/n."

You gasped softly at the request, your cheeks set ablaze. Oh how you wanted to give in. You wanted so badly to lock lips with him right then and there, but this wasn't right.

"What did you do, Jongho?" You asked.

"My name sounds so nice coming from your mouth, pretty." He sighed out.

"Jongho."

He giggled in response.

"What did you take?"

He reached into his bag and pulled out an empty bottle, handing it to you. You brought it to your nose, sniffing it, the scent of bubblegum reaching your senses.

Babbling Beverage.

"Jongho." You groaned. "What have you done?"

"It's a bravery potion, Y/n. No need to worry." He smiled almost drunkenly.

"This isn't a bravery potion, this is a Babbling Beverage. It makes you speak nonsense."

He scoffed in offense. "I'm not speaking nonsense."

"Come here." You brought him over to the corner of the secluded hallway, so you'd have a little more privacy.

"Are you mad at me?" Jongho asked.

"No, but why did you do it?"

"I wanted to confess to you but I was too scared. Isn't that silly? You told me Gryffindors are brave, and I usually am, but not today." He rested his head against the wall. "I needed something to help me so I brewed a bravery potion—or at least I thought it was."

"You... wanted to confess to me?"

"Yes. I like you so much, Y/n. You're so beautiful and funny and kind and you made me feel so welcomed on that very first train ride to Hogwarts. You were the first friend I ever made."

Your heart swelled with adoration at his words. Though he was under the influence of a potion, his words seemed genuine.

Jongho took his bag off, letting it fall to the ground as he stepped closer to you.

"I want to kiss you so badly." He murmured.

"I'm not sure that's a good ide-" Your sentence went unfinished as he gently took your chin between his thumb and index finger.

Staring into his captivating eyes, you found yourself wanting to give in, your gaze darting down to his pouty lips and imagining how soft they probably felt. Having his face so dangerously close to yours had you wanting to throw caution to the wind.

"Can I?" He asked.

The tone of his voice was so soft yet temping at the same time. Without mulling it over any further, you nodded.

Jongho didn't let another second pass before his lips landed on yours—and yes, they were soft. Right away, you reciprocated his actions, kissing him back with just as much fervor.

His fingers released your chin, moving to the back of your neck to pull you even closer, the action also causing your lips to press further into his. You could feel every dip and curve of his mouth, the sensation making your closed eyelids flutter. Your hands, which had been balled into fists at your sides, latched onto his shoulders, staying there for only a few moments before your fingers slid into his hair. Jongho's arm snaked its way around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. You gasped at his action, noting how strong he was and how tightly he was holding you against him with just one arm.

It was clear Jongho was starting to get comfortable as his kisses got more heated and somewhat sloppy. He began nipping lightly at your bottom lip, letting out quiet sighs when your nails grazed the nape of his neck.

"Keep doing that, pretty." He exhaled against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine and a rush of butterflies to your abdomen.

You boldly grabbed a handful of his hair and gave it an experimental tug, a quiet groan from him vibrating against your lips immediately after. His hand that was cupping the back of your neck dropped to your waist, squeezing your hip tightly. He then took a step forward, backing you against the stone wall behind you.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamt of this." He murmured, placing a kiss on your jawline

Heavy breaths escaped your lips, your chest heaving up and down while attempting to catch your breath. You had no idea Jongho could kiss so passionately... or boldly, and you were pleasantly surprised by this discovery.

"You're not the only one." You confessed.

He lifted his head to meet your gaze.

"I'm not?"

"No."

Jongho knew when you kissed back that it more than likely meant you felt the same about him as he does you, but hearing you practically confess had him reeling. He wanted to hear more.

"It's probably obvious at this point, but I'm head over heels for you, Jongho."

Still under the influence of the potion, Jongho blurted the first thought in his head.

"I love the way you say my name."

His lips were on yours again, hot and heavy. His kisses were desperate and fast-paced, making you weak in the knees. The Babbling Beverage made one speak nonsense and didn't have an effect on how they kissed, so this was all Jongho.

Your fingers curled around the collar of his robes, fisting the fabric in desperation while he practically devoured you.

It was at that moment, your foot bumped something on the floor which caused you to part ways. Glancing down, you found Jongho's bag that had been discarded only a few moments earlier lying on its side with something sticking out of it.

"What's this?" You asked, reaching for the object that had fallen out of his bag. It was wrapped in brown paper with twine tied around the it, a sprig of lavender tucked into the bow knotted neatly in the middle.

"Oh." The look on his face told you that it was something you weren't supposed to see.

The effects of the potion seemed to be wearing off as he dropped his head into his hands, letting out a groan of frustration.

"I was supposed to give that to you first, before I confessed." He grumbled, his voice muffled by his palms.

When he lifted his head, he saw that you were smiling.

"You got me something?"

"Yeah, but I messed it all up. I had a plan. Give you the gift, then confess. That stupid potion." He muttered the last part.

He only wanted something to give him a tiny boost of courage and instead he made the wrong thing and made himself babble like a fool. Then again, he did have an incredible makeout session with you, so did everything really go wrong?

"Here." He picked up the item and handed it to you.

You carefully took the gift from him, running your fingertips over the lavender.

"You wrapped it yourself?"

He nodded, holding his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels.

Plucking the sprig of lavender out of the twine, you undid the knot and pulled back the wrapping. Inside was the leather-bound journal you were admiring at Scrivenshaft's just a day ago.

A quiet gasp left your lips. "How did you know?"

As far as you were aware, Jongho had been looking at inkwells when you were perusing the journals.

"I saw you eyeing it in the shop." He responded, holding back a grin, clearly proud of himself.

"You didn't have to."

"I know."

"Thank you." You embraced him in a one-armed hug. "Also, don't worry about how things went today. I think everything turned out perfect. And if I'm being honest, I really enjoyed that little kiss we shared."

"Little?" He raised a brow.

"Okay, not so little."

"I'd be happy to do it again." He grinned, leaning forward only for you to press your finger to his lips, halting his actions.

"Maybe later. I heard some voices down the hall a few seconds ago. Don't wanna get caught."

He pouted, his pillowy lips pressing against your index finger. Unable to resist his puffed out cheeks and pleading eyes, you let out a short sigh, caving immediately.

"We can go to the library. We're less likely to get caught there."

Jongho nodded vigorously in agreement, taking your hand and pulling you down the corridors towards the library, eager to lock lips with you once again.

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny

#jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jongho x you #choi jongho x you #jongho x y/n #choi jongho x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez hogwarts au #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios

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sadraccoon061 · 4 months

Text

So, here's a thing!

The first part of my new Sims Story*.

Inspired by Shadowrun & Cyberpunk worlds & themes etc. Basically, my Alien squad getting up to shenanigans that I have decided to mash into a story for funsies:

Newt moves in with new roommates VexX and Ambergris, all aliens living on Simterra*. Newt hopes to make a new life for himself and pursue his medical training, and maybe make some friends along the way. Little does he know that VexX and Amber are actually part of a Runner crew, taking on jobs that frequently involve the underworld and shadier elements of the city...and it often leads to trouble.

*Insert clever title here...TBC *My name for the Sims planet

Anyway, if you check it out, hope you enjoy it!

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　１：　Ｉｎｔｒｏｄｕｃｔｉｏｎｓ】

Newt: Well, here goes nothing. I got this? I got this. Okay Newt...just like we practised...Oh! Should I have brought some kind of food as a gift? Have I got time to run to the shop? I wouldn't even know where the shops are here...ugh Well, that's that then. Guess I'm doing this, gift or not...

Newt walked into the apartment, and was immediately greeted by a man in dark sunglasses with deep grey skin with red markings, and with red hair to match. Newt was an alien himself, but this man looked like no being he had ever seen before. He was so intrigued and realised that he was staring, and his carefully rehearsed introduction ended up tumbling out in a garbled mess... Newt: Oh...um...helloit'snicetomeetyou, mynameis- ???: Woah! Slow down, kid! You're Newt ain't ya? Newt: Y-yeah that's me! I live here! Well, sort of. I will live here...um...I'm moving in today!

VexX: [VexX chuckles] Heh, I knew it! Take a breath, Newt, ya found the right place. 'm VexX. Guess we're officially roomies now! Newt: G-good to meet you! [Newt automatically reaches out to shake hands, and VexX returns the gesture] VexX: Careful kid, that's my eyeball you're squeezing. One of 'em, anyway! [VexX winks]. Newt: Oh, I'm so sorry! Um... [Newt withdrew his hand, flustered, which only seemed to amuse VexX]

VexX: [VexX laughs] Relax, 'm only jokin' with ya. Seriously, don't worry about it. It ain't like ya expect eyes to be there, y'know? Even with people like us! [VexX eyed Newt's bag and suitcase] Is that all ya stuff? [Newt nods, and VexX nodded back in understsanding] 'kay then, here, let me grab that one for ya and I'll show ya t'ya room. Newt: That's okay I can manage...don't trouble yourself...um... Newt quickly realised that his protests were pointless, and he surrendered the bag to his insistent, helpful new housemate.

VexX: So I'll give ya the grand tour later but for now, my room is at the end there, you're next to me 'cause...well, Ambz will explain 'm sure...there ain't all that much to see but it's home, y'know? Newt's gaze swept over the apartment as his new roommate lead him to his new room, excited. His new home. VexX was right that there wasn't much to see - from here he could see most of the rest of the apartment. His attention snapped back to VexX. Newt: Sorry...uh, Ambz? VexX: Yeah, Ambergris, our other [VexX cleared his throat, looked over his shoulder and raised his voice as if addressing someone who wasn't present. The increased volume made Newt jump] ANTI-SOCIAL roomie - I'll drag his ass out of his room so he can say hi, don't ya worry. Newt chuckled softly - he already felt far more at ease than when he first arrived. He hadn't imagined it going this smoothly! One roommate met, one to go...

VexX: And here it is! Your own personal space. [VexX gestured around the room] It uh, might not look like much but- Newt: [In almost a whisper] It's perfect. VexX: I mean uh, I wouldn't go that far but whatever powers your uh, light-speed drive I guess. Newt nodded, taking in his new space. The furniture was sparse, a shabby bed and chest of drawers and a pokey desk. But to him, it may as well have been a luxury hotel suite. He could work with this - besides, it wasn't like he needed much space anyway. VexX: I'll leave ya too it so can settle in a bit, and I'll go drag Ambz out...we'll be in the livin' room when you're ready. Ambz might not even be awake, so take ya time. Newt: [Newt chuckled and smiled] Thanks, VexX. It's been great meeting you. VexX flashed Newt a grin, showing off rows of spiky teeth. Newt also thought he saw a hint of an otherworldly looking tongue, but it could have been his imagination. VexX: Yeah, you too - welcome to your new home, kid!

VexX left Newt alone in his new room, clutching the handles of the small bag of belongings he had brought with him. His suitcase was still by the door, but he could grab it later. VexX seemed friendly, even if he looked intimidating. Though he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about the nickname "kid" yet. Especially when VexX didn't seem *that* much older than he was - he hoped it wouldn't stick! But, those were all things to worry about later. For now he had a space of his very own. Yeah, things were going to work out just fine.

Uhhhh thanks for reading!<3

Special thank you to @occultradio for encouraging me to Do The ThingTM and for being a massive inspiration tbh :).

Thank you to all CC & pose creators!

Onward!

#my sims #sims story #oc:newt #oc:vexx #oc:ambergris #alien sims #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 aliens #Chapter 1:Introductions #simblr #the sims #Stellarun #Stellarun Story

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cosmica-galaxy · 1 year

Note

could you do some Fake Peppino x a fem Y/N?

asking for a friend 😳

Ayo, can you send your friend over here so I can talk to them? /lh /j

Have a domestic work morning with Fakey Boi!

The sound of your alarm blaring wakes you out of your slumber and you find yourself slamming your hand down onto the noisy device in an attempt to silence it.

Groaning when it finally stops, you pull the covers away from your head. Revealing your messy hair and disgruntled expression to the world as you sigh in frustration.

Upon laying there dozing for a few minutes, you take notice of the secondary presence laying on your bed. You already knew who it was as you wordlessly smiled and turned over in the sheets, wrapping your arms around a familiar squishy midsection. You hear a familiar "mrrp" come from your lanky companion who was laying beside you in response to being hugged by you.

You snuggle into the soft midsection as familiar purring starts up just underneath your head and you let out a comforted sigh as two familiar hands press into your back. Locking you in a lazy embrace.

"Morning, Peppy..." You yawn, getting a slow and grumbling distorted response from the creature laying on the bed. His version of a "good morning".

You both lay there silently and embrace one another before you let out a sigh.

"Well. Time to start the normal routine all over again. It's Monday after all. Come on...we gotta get up, Peppy." You yawn once more, slinking out of Peppy's embrace as you sit up, ignoring the way he whines in an upset manner.

You sling your lower half off the bed and you stretch before standing up completely. Looking over your shoulder, you can see Fake Peppino stretching as well, letting out a large yawn of his own before his expression focuses on you and the semi-permanent smile returns. Seemingly unaware of the fact that his tongue is hanging out slightly. You couldn't help but giggle a bit in response to his expression.

Now, your shared routine begins.

You get up and head to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for the day while Fake Peppino topples out of your shared bed, like he does every morning, before striding off to get you some breakfast ready before you head off to work.

You brush your teeth, go to the bathroom, wash your face, and get your uniform on while the aroma of something cooking fills your home. It was certainly an improvement to when you lived alone...you couldn’t imagine going back to a work schedule where you had to go to work without eating breakfast.

You slip on a familiar work outfit that you have worn numerous times before effortlessly, it was almost scarily automatic at this point. But once you were ready, you headed into the kitchen, where your tall housemate was.

Fake Peppino's lanky form walks around your kitchen with ease as his malleable arms and legs bend and stretch across it with grace. It was almost hypnotic in the way he moved from one place to another so quickly. He then notices you taking a seat at the table and smiles widely at you and gives you a wave. You smile and wave to him in return as he collects your breakfast.

"So...what's on the menu this morning, Peppy?" You say as the clone in question pours you a glass of your favorite drink.

"Setelemo! (Omelets!)" He replies happily, placing a freshly made omelet down in front of you.

"Oh, wow! Thank you so much, Peppy!" You grin as you scratch his chin lovingly, enticing a series of purrs to come from his throat. "Remember to get you some breakfast too! You have to be at Peppino's in 2 hours!"

He nods before he turns back to the stove. Allowing you to calmly eat your food and both of you made small talk about what was on the agenda for this week.

Once breakfast is concluded and you’ve eaten, you take a peek at the time and let out a huff.

"Well...sadly, it's time for me to get to work. I'll be back home at my usual time...if they don't keep me for an overtime shift again." You sigh as you stand up and fetch the keys to your car.

Fake Peppino whines as he hurries over and places his long arms around you, causing you to let out a series of laughs. Patting his flexible arms gently, you turn to him and give him a hug, which he returns.

"Aww...don't worry, big guy! I'll be back soon! Someone has to pay for all these nice things after all! But, hey! At least you came free! Heeheehee!" You giggle as Fake Peppino gives you a couple of gentle licks before releasing you.

"Have a good day, Peppy! I'll see you when I get home!" You finish as you open the door and wave goodbye, trying to resist the puppy-dog look he was giving you, but you waggle your finger at him before you head out the door.

Some people may find your current living predicament strange.

A creature that's the clone of a local pizza-maker and is mixed with partial animal DNA is currently living under your roof and sleeping in your bed...but you wouldn't change a thing.

You love your tall goopy housemate and nobody would be able to change your mind about him.

#pizza tower fake peppino #pizza tower #pizza tower x reader #fake peppino x reader #anon asks #anon ask #anonymous #hax speaks #haxorus imp #cosmica galaxy #FIRST FAKE PEPPY REQUEST YEAAA

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sl0wdiver · 2 years

Text

footballers as flatmates/roommates headcanon

(imagining them as people with normal jobs + lives btw)

aaron ramsdale - domestic goddess, aggressive style. almost too happy to be cleaning. sets out a fucking cleaning rota for gods sake. drives everyone a bit nuts but whenever you have friends over they always say how nice your house is. has literally the loudest phone calls ever.

kieran tierney - quite content to watch netflix all evening every day of the week. always drinking vodka cokes at pres/party nights. folds his clothes as soon as they’re dry cause he knows his mum would give him a bollocking otherwise. attempts to cook - it sometimes works out. if in doubt, chicken nuggets at least 3 days a week.

michail antonio - house daddy. that man has that kitchen on lockdown. he goes in and comes out with the most insanely good food every single damn time. a complete hoot on nights out. rips the living piss out of everyone but life without him just wouldn’t be right.

ruben dias - quite possibly the most sensible flatmate to live with. amazingly consistent sleep schedule. always asks the group chat ahead of time if he can bring a date over. he is gymming/toning/working out about 23 hours a day mind you. at least he plays his workout music through his headphones.

jarrod bowen - the most reliable housemate ever. bills always paid on time. always down for a late night trip to big tesco. will play playstation with you until 4am. one word answers to anything in the house groupchat - “haha”, “lol”, “yeah”. but, will have the best dmcs with you in the garden when there’s a party.

mason mount - loves it when something breaks cause it means he gets to fix something. cooking skills are hardly world class michelin star restaurant level but he pulls out something every so often that surprises you. always planning what the flat is doing friday and saturday night.

declan rice - believes the antibac wipe can do anything. tells you about all the great discounts he found at wilko today when you get off work. gets waaaay too into the film on flat movie night and cries. hogs the telly whenever there's a golf tournament on. always tries to get a dancefloor going whenever there’s a house party.

martin ødegaard - friendliest face in the house. his room is a marvel of scandi couture. he pretends it's minimalism but it's just ikea's posh range (and that's no bad thing). everyone thinks he's chill cause he likes reading and coffee paraphernalia but he hides a dark secret of playing THE WORST music at houseparties. hugging a cushion/blanket/djungleskog/himself throughout flat movie night.

tammy abraham - interior decor off the scales. the flat is literally glowing with his presence. the throws in the lounge are gorgeous. will defo have the loudest conversation with your flatmates right when you’re just tryna sleep but it’s all worth it. gets the tunes on as soon as he knows everyone is up.

harry kane - definitely in charge of all the bills. whenever he’s on the phone it’s usually because he’s chasing up some utilities company. this man is a provider. he cooks for everyone. wants everyone to be home for tea at the same time so “we can chat and catch up”.

ben chilwell - has the nicest candle collection of anyone in the flat. loves a good houseplant. his dog is the glue that holds the flat together. interior decor choices are questionable but it’s passable. takes his meetings in literally every room whenever he’s working from home.

jadon sancho - panics over any house maintenance or any time he has to set the heating. “nah i can’t get it to work i’ve got no idea” he says to the thermostat. his vibe is always super chill tho, always has his door open and is never in the shower for too long.

kai havertz - if he hasn't already got a house pet, he's strategising how to get one. rarely seen without a hoodie on. definitely rocking the flat's best comfy clothes collection. keeps to himself mainly but at least he doesn't cause any flat drama.

kostas tsimikas - i'm literally not even sure the boy knows how to clean. sleeps in til 2pm and never tells you his plans. will be out of the house for 36 hours and never answers his phone. the greek food he cooks tho? to die for. always ensures there is yoghurt in the fridge.

jack grealish - an unhinged experience. 35 minutes of hair drying everytime he has a shower, which in turn are the longest showers you’ve ever seen someone have. will cook the most astonishingly messy meal and ruin all the pans. secretly quite organised and always gets to work on time.

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sansxfuckyou · 11 months

Text

Nostalgias dial tone

Summary: Living alone was fine, but he can't even imagine going back to it now that he's had Sapnap living with him for a couple weeks; every last drop of having a housemate is amazing as he recovers. But, life likes to throw wrenches in the complex cogs of his plans for living out life, even short term ones, like surviving until he's able to live all on his own.

He can't ignore the fact that the notions of slipping down the same spiral to death all over again sounds amazing when Dream is offering it to him much to his dismay.

Warnings: Emotional turmoil, malnourishment, body image, suggestive themes, check tags for further warnings, or here.

Authors Note: FUCK EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING BECAUSE THIS MARKS 53K WORDS OF SAPNOTFOUND THAT I'VE WRITTEN, BUST OUT THE CONFETTI CAUSE HERE'S TO ANOTHER 50K. Anyways, festivities aside, @sobredunia, cause I subjected you to snippets of this, @samathekittycat, cause I subjected you to the previews, @h3xt0r because I subjected your partner to this, and @plutoprophecy, because I am pretty sure I subjected you to snippets of this. Also this is like, a sequel, to this fic, you can find the full thing here on Ao3. Tagging aside, a reblog would be nice if you managed to sit through the entire thing.

Warmth engulfs Georges midsection, hands slipping from just below his shoulder to rest at his abdomen. He hums in contentment as Sapnap leans on him, the heat of his partner seeps into his bones and eradicates the mycelia still resting inside of him. He likes to tell himself it does at least, it gives him an excuse to seek out the contact his partner willingly provides. He knows logically the fungus that contaminated his body and home is just dying off with the release of his emotions.

But, he knows that this just feels nice.

"So," George began calmly, the spores that once encased his mouth have faded to the point he can enunciate again, "When exactly do you plan on buying a ticket to go home?"

Sapnap said nothing, he only gave a muffled sound that sounded like never- George didn't mind.

George only gives a hum of amusement, "Okay," he leans back against Sapnap a little bit, the hands resting on his abdomen glide upwards to prod at his rib cage. The nourishment he was lacking for so long as starting to return (you could still differ most of his ribs).

Sapnap runs his fingers over top the cotton, George still feels like ice, and despite knowing it takes time to recover, he liked it better when George was just as warm as he is. He drops his hands to the hem of Georges shirt, playing with the edge of the fabric, waiting patiently for a 'no' he didn't get. He slipped his hands underneath the fabric, the almost scaly feel the spores caused had faded out fully- the roots of mycelia did not. George tensed under the feeling but he still didn't say to stop as heat like fire trailed across where the mycelium tended to bulge around his ribs. The undernourishment still showed to a disheartening amount, of course, he hadn't exactly been eating much of anything that nourishing either.

"When do you plan on eating real food again?" Sapnap asked quietly, his voice barely above a rough whisper and it catches George off guard.

George can't get out an answer as fast as he'd like to, especially not with the abrupt constriction in his chest, "When you decide to go out and buy food," Sapnap groaned in annoyance at the notion as he pulled away from George who nearly whined at the sudden lack of contact- instead he coughed.

His coughing wasn't as agonizing as it once was, but it still hurt his throat which at this point might as well be permanently raw. The spores that escape are old and dying, the amount of red that comes out with the mildew and neon is a lot less than before as well. Chunks of coral mushroom and bits of mycena still spill out from time to time, but he's let go now, they don't grow anymore. He's pretty sure at least, the terms of having the purgatory end are unclear, and mushrooms root deep anyways (who knows how much is left in his system).

"An entire store full of Brits? George, just because I can handle one Brit doesn't mean I can handle any Brit- you're different," Sapnap explained in slight annoyance, unfazed at the blood in his partners hands, George looked to him and raised a brow, "You're my friend."

George sighed, "There are plenty of Brits you could be friends with out there! I assure you, not all of them are stuck up tightwads," George sounded almost chiding as he spoke, but he leaned in and gently kissed Sapnap on the cheek, he swatted away the contact almost playfully.

Sapnap took two steps to the fridge before swinging open the near empty appliance, all that remained was leftover takeout from god knows when, "I guess I could go to the store and buy some food, but I think I'll get scammed after being thoroughly made fun of for my stupid accent," Sapnap sighed a bit as he spoke, already trying to change how he carried his syllables, George smiled.

"Stupid accent? You're completely wrong, I think it's simply adorable- and if anyone tries to make fun of you just cuss 'em out with your accent, lay it on thick," George said, Sapnap stifled a chuckle at the notion.

"George I'm not cussing someone out at the grocery store, or do you call it something else in England? How uneducated am I?" Sapnap asked dramatically, George heaved an almost annoyed sigh.

"They'll know what you mean, it's pretty damn obvious you aren't from around here," George watched patiently as Sapnap closed the fridge and leaned against it, he spoke again, "I could write down a list of stuff to make biscuits if you want to do some baking."

Sapnap took a moment to speak, "Now when you say biscuits do you mean biscuits biscuits or cookies biscuits?" George suppressed a bit of a laugh at the question.

"You really think I'm not courteous enough to suppress my British ways so you can understand what I'm saying?" Sapnap kind of gave him a blank look, "I mean biscuits as in savory Sapnap."

"Right, right, yeah I could go pick up some ingredients for that," Sapnap said, he almost sounded sheepish, aware of the fact that he could've just looked at the shopping list he was given and take an educated guess.

George gave him a bit of a sweet smile, "What kind of biscuits do you want to make then?"

Sapnap paused, "Savory?"

George couldn't help the laugh escaping him, his breath had a tint of spores on it and his laughter devolved into cough, but not enough to push the chunks of saprophyte to his lips. He wiped down his mouth and swallowed hard to get rid of the chunk at the back of his throat before speaking, "Do cheese biscuits sound good? Or would you prefer an herb biscuit, those take longer to make though."

"Cheese, absolutely, all the way, I love the stuff," Sapnap said confidently, watching as George started to search through drawers for a piece of paper and a pen- he came up with the blank side of a receipt and a sharpie.

George took a moment, trying to recall the recipe. He placed the paper on the counter, recently wiped clean of residual spores they couldn't catch, "So we need sharp cheddar, dried basil, flour, we'll need milk and baking powder? Maybe it was baking soda, we'll need one or both of those- just grab that stuff and anything else you think we might need," He scribbles down the items as he speaks, his writing is barely readable. He holds it up, rereading the list two times just to be sure, he places it down again, "Eggs."

Sapnap had the paper shoved into his hands, he glanced over it, he wasn't exactly a master baker, but it looked complete. He pocketed it as he spoke, "So where exactly is the store?"

"Looking up and finding a map would be easier than me trying to explain it to you," George said, Sapnap stayed silent, "Do you want to get lost?"

"Not really, but I do like listening to you talk," Sapnap said, a ghost of a smirk painted onto his expression.

George sighed, he smiled a bit, "Sapnap, getting lost in England is a horrible idea, you don't know the place well enough to find your way back," Sapnap shrugged, still wearing a bit of a smirk, "Just use a map, you can listen to me ramble all you want when you get back."

Sapnap hummed, as though mulling over the thought in his head, "You have some British money on hand right? I'm not so sure they'll take my American money."

"You've been here for three weeks now, and you still don't have any pounds?" George almost sounds agitated as he speaks, Sapnap shoves his hands in his pockets, he pulls out coins and bills, not much, but enough to emphasize his point.

"Does it look like I do?" Sapnap places what little money he has the table, in America it wouldn't be worth much, in Britain, it's worth nothing to a somewhat literal extent.

George simply counted the dollars, wow, even if it was converted to British money it still wouldn't be enough, "No, it really doesn't look like you have any money- I think some places might take a credit card from America, but don't take my word for it."

"So, we're fucked for fresh ingredients unless you decide to come out of your cave," Sapnap said.

"Just because I'm mostly better I still don't want anyone to see me looking like this," George said, raising the hem of his shirt and gesturing vaguely to where the Saprophytis hit him the hardest, his ribs visible under skin and his lips still shattered and consistently bloody, his hands still semi-scaled and his hair still a washed out hue, only a vague semblance of what he once was, "I look like shit."

Sapnap sidled up next to him as he dropped his shirt back over his torso, "What? You look amazing," he was ready to shower George with affection, praise, and enough of it to kill a horse. He simply chose to place a single kiss to his partners cheek instead, watching his face flare up crimson, "I get why you don't want to go out yet."

"Thanks," George muttered it barely loud enough for Sapnap to hear, but a smile crept up on his face at the word.

"Exactly, now give me some money so I can go get groceries," Sapnap said, nuzzling into George as he spoke, his body heat sunk into George like an anchor to water, it oozed into his system and kept him ground in reality- he loved it.

George stifled a laugh at the abruptness of Sapnaps request, "Obviously, you can just borrow my credit card man," he took a moment to rifle through his pockets, it was more habitual than conscious. He would've moved to actually find where he put his wallet but that would mean surrendering the warmth that Sapnap emanates.

"Great! I'll go find it, if you're okay with me looking through your stuff that is," Sapnap said, backpedaling on his words just in case; better to play it safe than sorry.

George almost whined, wrapping an arm around Sapnaps side, his fingers rest along a mottled cotton fabric and the warmth he so desires doesn't come across as clearly as it usually does, "Can we just, stay like this for a bit longer?" He doesn't even notice the way he leans into Sapnap, or the way his fingers dig themselves into the fabric, searching aimlessly for that warmth.

Sapnap nodded, but briefly pulled away anyways, yanking off his hoodie and tossing it the side, "It's really, really hot in here," his excuse is cheap, he just relishes in the touch against his side.

George leans back into Sapnap, the sudden lack of a layer makes a worlds difference. The heat seeps into him with twice as much speed, if he could purr he would be purring up a storm. He still feels the telltale signs of a rumble in his chest, he pays no mind to it until it shakes his bones entirely. His bones feel hollow now that they vibrate a little bit, a jittering and rumbling sensation shooting through his muscles. He has no clue why or how, but it makes his lungs feel better, like it's shaking out the fungus.

"Are you," Sapnap started, he had to pause, glancing at George with a quirked brow, "Are you purring?"

George shrugged, "Feels nice," he wraps arms around Sapnaps midsection, blunted nails digging into the fabric as he purrs; deep vibrations drilling into wherever Georges torso meets any of Sapnap.

Sapnap hums in agreement, "Yeah," He leans into George, he hesitantly brings hand to his head, running fingers through brunette locks (they were brown now, a deep tone compared to what they were mere weeks ago).

The purring in Georges chest starts up again, louder, in reaction to the touch, he's too intrigued to be embarrassed, "I don't know how to turn it off," A weak chuckle laces his voice.

Sapnap shrugs, "Fine by me," he lowers his hand down to rest at the small of Georges back, he trails it back up to rest at his shoulder blades, where the vibrations are the strongest.

They simply stand there contentedly, a peaceful sense of belonging rested between them and their intimacy. It's nice, and the notions of George being dead if Sapnap hadn't decided to fly on over escape the both of them in the moment. George rests his head on Sapnaps shoulder contentedly, nuzzling into the shorters neck a bit, the cat like traits were almost uncanny. Sapnap leaned his head on top of Georges, he pressed more of his weight onto the counter than the Brit.

As much as George was recovering, he was still frail, his bones were still hollow- he was still damaged goods. He was still broken and never to fully recover from the effects physically, maybe emotionally as well, but that didn't matter much to Sapnap. The flaw makes the masterpiece doesn't it? And George, well, with how many flaws Saprophytis has given him, he must be a masterpiece amplified beyond reason. Through Sapnaps eyes, the Brit has just gotten stronger through this, more resilient, anyone else would see him as weaker for falling prey to an emotional parasite. Not Sapnap, he loves to look at George through rosy shades, but those have shattered, now he can see that the red he was trying to avoid seeing was raw emotion (and blood, lot's of it at that, on his hands in his mouth).

George hummed, "You should go buy some food if you really wanna do some baking," He loosened his grip on Sapnap a little bit

"This is better than baking," Sapnap shot back in almost lazy tone, the intimacy was a sedative and he wouldn't mind soaking in the warmth of comfort.

"Yeah, but I wanna make biscuits," George said, he pulled away from Sapnap who leaned into him again with a smirk on his face, "Dude."

"Yeah?" Sapnap asked, opening his eyes to look up at George.

"Go get some food man, credit card is by the keys," George instructed, Sapnap reluctantly pulled away with a groan.

"Fine, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone though," Sapnap said as he made his way to leave, "If I get lost make sure to mention it was your fault on my tombstone."

"I will," George shouted at Sapnap as his partner left, he heard the door open and then close.

The sudden silence was uncomfortable for George. He was so used to living in silence, but it's a lot harder now that's he's gotten used to living with Sapnap. He's used to chatting and laughing and living, but this silence? It just makes him feel dead again, as dead as he was when he was near bedridden- it makes him feel ill. He needs something, he pulls out his phone and turns on some music, a white noise to focus on instead of the fact he's alone again.

He knows it won't be for long, but it still makes him feel wrong again, he knows it's to get something to eat. He knows it won't last much longer than forty minutes if that long, but he still feels empty. It's one set of footsteps instead of two, it's the cooling air instead of warm touches, it's the drone of silence instead of Sapnaps voice intermingling with his own.

He just doesn't like this, being alone. Now that he has a comparison he can't stand it. He finds himself lounged on the couch, waiting patiently for something to happen. His phone starts to ring and he answers it before he can read whose calling.

"Hi George,"

Georges blood turns to ice in mere seconds at the voice he's greeted with. His posture forces itself straight, every single muscle in his body stiffening. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out at first.

"Hi Dream," His voice is cracking just barely and he holds the phone to his ear, waiting with bated breath for whatever is next to come, "How have you been doing?"

"Good, news came out that you caught Saprophytis," Dream said, his voice was low and nothing was behind it, it made George scared.

"Who told you?" George asked faster than he could stop himself.

Dream gave a laugh, "Sapnap, obviously."

"That gossipy bitch," George snarled, Dream gave a hum of agreement.

"He can be like that sometimes, I'm not like that though," Dream said.

George swallowed audibly, "Liar- you got a pair of loose lips Dream, who knows what you'll spill next."

"I've changed George," Dream said, "It's possible, you know that don't you?"

"Of course you've changed, only after I was fucking dying and you did nothing to bother checking in," George shot back, venom on his voice despite how tense he was. Just a facade, just a false shell, he just has to sound firm enough in himself until Dream decides to hang up.

"You could've told me you were dying," Dream stated, George felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

"It's, it's already happened, I can't go back and do something else," George said, grasping for straws and excuses, the slight stutter hopefully went unnoticed.

"Good point, but you could choose me now," Dream offered.

George wanted to take it up, George wanted to choose Dream, to get put back into a near death state again. It'd be attention from Dream, it'd be attention from his best friend, it'd be what he was dying over and now he has a chance to get it. His grip on the fabric of the couch cushions tightens, "I'll pass," His voice is strained as he speaks because the echo of his bedridden self wants it so badly.

"Alright, have it your way," Dream said, a tinge of agitation on his voice, "Don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart."

"Sapnap would never-!" George exclaimed, practically shouting into the receiver, he could himself short at the click signalling Dream had hung up.

George slumped back into the couch, hand falling to his side, his grip on his phone didn't falter though. He felt all messed up inside again, he was sure that was over when he told Sapnap he wanted Dream to just pay attention. But that was what he wanted, he got exactly what he wanted, how come he hates the way its making him feel?

He gives a groan of annoyance as he sprawls himself out on the couch, facing in because it hurts. Of course Dream would decide to call him up now that he's decided to be mature and move on, he's a grown ass man, he could've moved on so much sooner. But he didn't he held out and got hurt in ways he couldn't imagine, and Sapnap swooped in last second to fix him. He fixed him with duck tape and showers of praise, laughs and raw passion, mended his mind with whatever he could get his hands on in Britain with his pitiful amount of American money.

And for some reason George wouldn't mind begging at Dreams feet even though he knows it'll undo all that hard work.

He hears the door open but he can't bother to move from his place on the couch, front facing the back of it. He can't just leave his stomach on display, that's where his organs are, he's aware he could get killed from behind just as easy, but he feels a bit safer. It's just words, he knows that it's just words that are bringing him an encroaching sense of agony; it still hurts. His head is pressed against the cushion and his arms are wrapped around his torso a bit. His breathing is even and he isn't crying but he feels that same pressure building up in his throat and it aches.

Sapnap places down the plastic bags at the door, full of stuff only for the baking they planned on, and drops the keys in the dish. He walked over to George, a bar of chocolate in hand, his smile disappeared in seconds at Georges state. He instantly dropped down beside his partner and placed a hand on his head, running fingers through brown locks, the matting had gone down. George pushed himself into the gentle touch, purring as he did so, he still looked miserable though.

"What happened while I was gone?" Sapnap asked, "Or is your blood sugar really low? Could be either."

"Dream called," George said, he sounded a little bit choked up.

"Oh, bro that sucks," Sapnap said softly, George pulled himself up from his position before flopping back down again, this time most of his weight on Sapnap, "Want some chocolate?"

George nodded, "Yeah."

"I wasn't sure if you wanted salted stuff or caramel, so I sorta, went with my gut," Sapnap unwrapped the bar as he spoke, breaking off a piece and handing it to George, "It's dark."

"Fine by me- bitter like my soul," George said, smirking a bit as he laid on the dramatics.

"Bitter like your soul? I'm sorry but you're way too cute to have a bitter soul, and considering how much you latch onto me? Gogy, I love you dearly, but don't lie man," Sapnap said, a bit of a laugh on his voice as he spoke, George gave a groan.

"Shut up, I'm trying to be cinematic," George said, waving off Sapnaps comment.

"Good luck trying when I'm around," Sapnap said, bringing a hand to toy at Georges hair again, the Brit tried to shrug him off and Sapnap gladly did as instructed.

George turned himself until he was staring up at Sapnap, he couldn't help the laugh, "Man, I never thought I'd be looking up at you."

Sapnap stumbled over his words, "Shut up- you can't talk anyways, don't forget about those times after passing 'round the Jesus Juice."

George quirked a brow, "Jesus Juice?"

"Wine, wine, fuck I mean wine," Sapnap said, "That was not supposed to come out like that."

George gives a stifled laugh, "Jesus Juice, I'm gonna start saying that now."

"Cutting to the chase and bringing us back to the point: you are consistently on the bottom when we-" Sapnap tried to say, smirking as he did so, George brought a hand to cover his mouth.

"Aside from that, no where else has me being on the bottom happened; besides, I'm always in control, so does it really count?" George asked, tactfully going over each word as he spoke, red shot directly to Sapnaps face, "Point proven."

"I thought we weren't gonna talk about that bro," Sapnap said, groaning in embarrassment, it was the two of them, but jeez, he didn't always like to recount how much control George consistently had no matter what happened behind closed doors.

George gave a hum, as though mulling over the thought, "Changed my mind- you're too fucking adorable when you're flustered to pass up on the chance."

"Fuck off, but really, wanna bake, or," Sapnap pauses, watching George quirk a brow, "Wanna bone?"

George breaks out laughing at the way Sapnap delivers the line, he has to clutch his stomach. He nearly rolls off of the couch as he laughs, he has to wipe away tears from his eyes. He sits up fully this time, to be at eye level with Sapnap for the most part, "We can go make those biscuits."

Sapnap hums, grabbing George again, "Ten more minutes on the couch."

"Be that way then," He pulls himself up to place a kiss to Sapnaps lips.

"If it means kisses I most definitely will," Sapnap shot back with.

#dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #sapnotfound #georgenap #georgenotfound #sapnap #dreamwastaken #writing #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfiction #tw emotional distress #tw emotional manipulation #tw malnourishment #tw suggestive

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