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#am i upset about this request? absolutely not!
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Hey, can you please more trans reguls please and add a little jegulus too!!
Thank you :)
Love ur work
Trans Reg? Always! Jegulus? Tons of it!! Thank you for the compliments! with love
Could we get back to it already? (1/1) (jegulus)
"James I need to tell you something..." Regulus whispered in between a heated kiss.
The pair were sitting nearly one on top of the other, making out like teenagers on the couch. James loved every minute of it because it meant Regulus pressed against his chest, hands pulling at his hair, while his own hands were allowed to roam all over Regulus' body and grab at his waist.
"Hmm what's that?" James said, moving his lips to work Regulus' neck since apparently Regulus wanted to use his lips to talk and not kiss James. James clearly wanted to use his lips for anything but talking.
Regulus sighed and gently ran his hands through James hair, one hand taking a fistful from the top while the other moved to cup James' cheek so he could pull him off.
"James," Regulus attempted to say firmly but it came out more of a whiny moan. When James saw the sincerity in Regulus' eyes though James stilled his movement and wrapped Regulus in his arms gently.
"Reg?" James asked, one eyebrow raised.
"I said I need to tell you something... before this goes any further," Regulus explained closing his eyes.
"Everything okay? Did I do something?" James asked quickly, his heart beating faster now but for the wrong reasons.
"No, no, James you're perfect," Regulus said and because he couldn't help it kissed one cheek and then the next.
"Okay, what is it then?" James asked tentatively but leaning into each kiss.
Regulus took a deep breath and then held James' gaze. "I'm trans James." Regulus shared.
"Oh, okay. Thank you for sharing that piece of you with me," James said. His tone was receptive, calm, unshaken.
Regulus was stunned.
James read his expression wrong and asked, "does that mean you don't want to kiss me anymore?" James asked cocking his head to the side.
"N-no I mean yes I want to keep kissing. But-just James... you don't care?" Regulus stumbled over his words as his brain tried to understand this non-reaction. Everything had changed whenever he had told a partner before, he just couldn't understand why James just wanted to go back to leaving marks all over his neck.
"It's not that I don't care, I think there's a big story there for you and I'm so happy you feel comfortable enough to share it with me and I can't wait to hear more about it if you want to tell me Reg, it's just I like you so... you've been trans this whole time I don't think it changes anything now that you've told me," James said.
Regulus loved when James talked. He could be saying the sweetest things, accepting him no matter what, and still sound like a silly jock whose head is in the clouds. Regulus couldn't help but smile.
Regulus fell forward a bit, pressing his forehead to James', "I like you too," he whispered in reply.
His famous James Potter grin spread across his face at Regulus' words. "So I can keep kissing you now?" James asked.
And Regulus nodded, closing the space between their lips to fall back into their game of tonsil hockey.
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voonroo · 2 months
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heyy don’t know if you do this character from Hazbin hotel but if you do, could you write about platonic! Dad! Lucifer x Teen daughter reader. Reader would be Charlie’s younger sister. How is reader’ relationship with Lucifer? And what would her reaction be when Lucifer came to the hotel? (Those are some ideass :)) Tysmm
Little Duckling
⌐‣Lucifer & Teen!Daughter Reader
Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎
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AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am aware that I have bent this request a bit but I hope you still enjoy it😞
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Lucifer & Teen!Daughter Reader
I feel like since you are a teenager you're definitely still under Dad’s roof.
He loves you very dearly and tries to stay in touch with trends.
He's the type of dad to use internet slang in the wrong way.
“Woah! You ate- that!” and he's talking about your dinner but he has the stupidest grin on his face.
He's also the type of dad where if he makes you upset he’ll give you like 20 minutes to cool off before showing up at your door with a peace offering.
It's either food, or a duck.
Speaking of ducks.
There's so many around the house that it's actually insane.
His cooking however is absolutely divine.
No matter what dish it is, if he gets a basic recipe- or tries to cook something without a recipe it doesn't matter.
The food is always amazing.
But when you decide to go to the hotel to stay with your sister for the weekend because you miss her, you're shocked when he decides to come with you to visit.
You know the relationship between your sister and dad, so you just leave them to it…
The walk home was silent, with occasional sniffles coming from him.
“W-What do you want for dinner?” And his voice is all shaky with emotions and he's looking at you while trying not to burst back into tears because he's your dad, so he has to be strong for you.
“Why not take out?” “So you don't like my cooking-”
Definitely makes jokes like that on a daily basis.
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Word Count: 264
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cal-flakes · 2 months
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sorry for spamming your acc i’ve js been obsessed with your fics!! i was thinking like reader only just getting used to Rafe spoiling her and then overhearing people call her like a gold digger and going back to not wanting him to spend as much as a cent on her and crying that people think of her that way and him comforting her and assuring her he WANTS to spend his money on her and takes her on a shopping spree the next day or something? idek, ignore this if you don’t like it ❤️
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╰┈➤ spoil you
warnings: cursing, threats (sort of)
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hot tears trickled down her flushed face as her hands struggled, furiously shoving the lavish materials back into their rightful bags. ‘she’s just using him’ — the words cut and nipped at her as they did laps in her mind, spitefully. she couldn’t see the jealousy in those same words through teary eyes, she almost believed them. what am i doing? she thought.
exhaling deeply, she sat back against her bed, her fingers threading through the plush carpet as her eyes scanned the shopping bags before her. dollars upon dollars lay before her, scattered around her bedroom, hidden by the paper wearing all of the expensive names. dior, chanel, versace and so on. her hands moved to squeeze and pinch at her own skin, desperately wishing to be out of it. she felt disgusting, how could she let such a sweet boy do this for her? how could such a shallow girl wear such materials?
her racing thoughts were quickly distracted by the heavy footsteps on the stairs, coming to a stop outside her bedroom door.
“y/n? baby? you ready to go?” the voice asked so calmly, blissfully unaware of the mess on the other side. through sniffles, y/n quickly wiped away the remaining tears. “i—um, i don’t think i want to go..” she muttered, just loud enough for a frown to pull at his features.
he tilted his head, unbeknownst to her as he moved to the handle, working quickly to shove the door open. rafe’s mouth fell agape as he rushed towards her frame, curled up on the floor, tear marks painting the beautiful dress he’d requested she wore to their date that day.
“sweetheart, what’s wrong? did someone upset you?” he cooed, yet the gruff, threatening undertone didn’t go unnoticed. shaking her head, she relaxed into his touch as he slotted himself next to her, pulling her head into his sweater clad chest. “then why are you crying baby?”
catching her breath, her eyes moved to the floor, unwilling to meet his eyes as if she’d burst into tears once again. “do you— do you think i’m using you?” y/n whimpered, blinking away any tears threatening to spill. rafe’s eyebrows knit together as he craned his neck to look down at her, all sorts of questions filling his mind.
“my sweet girl— what are you talking about? ‘course i don’t” he soothed, reaching a steady hand to cup her cheek. “why would you say that?”
after a good, long hour of more tears and an abundance of reassurance, rafe had finally managed to calm the flow of tears seeping through his sweater, through the art of forehead kisses and soft words.
“baby, what have i told you about listening to such spiteful words? huh? you are in no way a brat, or using me, or shallow, m’kay?” he sighed, pulling his lips into a thin line. “i buy you these things—“ gesturing to the mountains of bags and teddy bears, “because i want the absolute best for you, i want you to feel good, i want you to feel so unbelievably adored you don’t know what to do with yourself, alright?”
“but— but i can’t do the same for you rafey, i want to, i want to buy you things too! but i can’t..” she frowned, her bottom lip wobbling as she spoke. “you do enough y/n, you don’t need to buy me things, the feeling of you lying on me at night is enough, the smile on your face when i walk through that door— is more than enough”
sighing contently, y/n nodded as she melted further into him— if that was possible.
“you gonna cheer up now? let me take you out?” he chuckled, twirling a slender hand around a couple strands of her now tangled hair. “mhm”
“wait! your walking too fast rafe!” y/n pouted, drawing a hearty chuckle from him as he came to an exaggerated halt. holding out his arm for her, he waited as she skipped along the concrete, giggling profusely as she quickly linked her arm with his. “where to first?” he asked, the infamous smirk once again plastered on his face.
y/n’s face scrunched as she thought hard about this question, her hand— which was tightly wrapped around his forearm, coming to her attention. “well, i do need my nails repainted, they’re so grown out now!” she chirped, beaming up at him hopefully.
chuckling, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before leading her through the streets. “little brat..” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. “hey!” she yelped, swatting his chest. “that’s not funny!”
“only teasing sweetheart, what colour were you thinkin’?”
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reidmotif · 8 months
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Coffee and Consequences
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Summary: Reader joins the BAU, and Spencer seems insistent on being a problem for her.
Request: pls i am such a sucker for angst/smut, can you do one where spencer is closed off and cold to a new recruit, and it upsets her, so she tries to get him to like her, which leads to an argument and confession, with soft smut?
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut/Light Angst (Happy Ending)
Content Warning: Reader POV, little shit Spencer, oral sex (f recieveing), gunshot wound/typical canon violence, unprotected sex
Word Count: 6.1k
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Upon starting at the BAU, I believed there was no question about me, especially when it came to my skills and ability to perform my job. From stellar recommendations from my superiors at the Academy, to general demeanor and tact, there was no question about whether or not my success was imminent. Most of the team were more than elated to welcome me to the small family they’d built over the years, despite my younger age than most of them, which I was eternally grateful for. 
Most, being the keyword in that sentence. Since I’d begun, there’d been one thorn in my roses, the bane of my existence, you might say. Spencer fucking Reid. I’m aware of the fact that not everyone could like me, that was a given. I'm an FBI agent, for god’s sake. To expect warmth and friendship from everyone would be naive and lead to disappointment in any given scenario. 
But Jesus Christ, this was getting absolutely ridiculous. 
I consistently replayed the events of our first meeting. In an attempt to make a good first impression, (which seems stupid, in hindsight) I brought coffee to each of my new co-workers, hoping to establish myself as a friendly, non-threatening presence in their lives. I’d covertly asked Emily for help, as within the interviews and background checks required to even be considered for a position in the BAU, there was a certain camaraderie and friendship forged through the continued exposure to each other. 
Emily advised me carefully, understanding the intentions behind the act, and being more than happy to help.  “JJ likes vanilla lattes, nothing too fancy. Rossi is a little simpler, a Caffe Americano.” I spoke, and continued to go through my team’s regular orders, until there was hesitation on a somewhat infamous name, one that I myself was already intrigued by. “Spencer’s an easy order to remember, but you have to make sure you get it right.” 
I found myself nodding, the seriousness of Emily’s words striking me- momentarily finding myself forgetting that they were speaking about something as mundane as coffee. "Emily spoke slowly, as if I was advising a child. 'Reid likes black coffee, but you have to make sure to add extra sugar.'" I nodded quickly, "Alright, black coffee with extra sugar, got it-" Emily interrupted me abruptly. "No, no. You're not hearing me, extra sugar. I mean a lot, okay? Otherwise, he quite literally won't drink it."
I found myself chuckling a little bit, thinking about the image of Spencer Reid I’d built up in my head before I’d even met him. I knew he had been framed and had endured a considerable time in prison. I was also aware of his intelligence, a natural by-product of all the papers he’d written, and how many of his own techniques in geographic profiling were referenced during my time in the Academy. Working with him seemed like a dream come true. The idea of a grown man needing as much sugar in his coffee as Emily made it seem added just a bit of charm to the already positive perception I’d had of him. 
In the coffee shop, I carefully recited the orders of my new teammates, taking extra caution in advising the barista that the black coffee needed extra sugar. I could tell the patrons behind me were definitely annoyed, but it didn’t matter. First impressions matter more. Even after my incessant requests about sugar, I took the time to open the lid of the steaming black coffee to add in 3 extra packets of brown sugar provided at the customization station in the back of the coffee shop. I could tell the barista was boring holes into the back of my head, and I honestly wasn’t surprised or could blame her. At this point, the sugar had to be more than the coffee itself. I gave a satisfied grin to myself, knowing I’d followed Emily’s directions and the possibility of friendship with someone I’d already come to admire wasn’t something far-off to wish for. 
God, was I wrong. 
I approached the bullpen cautiously, being greeted by an assortment of new faces. I quickly matched names to descriptors that had been given to me from Emily. I then noticed one face that hadn’t greeted me yet, sat alone in the back with his nose in a book. I couldn’t discern the title, which I quickly figured was due to the fact that the book appeared to be some European language I’d most likely never even heard of. The man had a mess of brown hair on his head, and even from across the room I could tell it was curling softly near the nape of his neck. He was handsome. More handsome than I had pegged him for. I knew almost immediately that this had to have been the infamous Spencer Reid, and I cautiously approached him, flashing a small smile. 
He heard me a mile away, looking up quickly and putting away his book. His eyes seemed to size me up, and he didn’t seem to return my smile. I knew better than to shake hands with him, being predisposed to his germaphobe nature and instead held out the coffee, almost as if it was a peace offering. 
“Hi, uh. I’m the new recruit, I believe Emily warned you all about me and I just wanted to introduce myself. (Y/N). That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, a little dumbly, still holding the coffee out. I quickly realized I hadn’t explained the reasoning behind the coffee cup and quickly added, “Coffee. I asked Emily about how you liked it. And brought it. So, yeah.” I said. I was aware of how awkward this conversation was becoming, considering I was still holding out the cup, like an idiot, and he hadn’t said a word to me yet. He nodded, taking the coffee cup from me and placing it on his desk. “Dr Reid. Welcome.” His greeting was short, but I tried not to let it bother me. Perhaps he wasn’t as forthcoming to strangers, nevermind that. The coffee was enough. I smiled, again, hoping to make my intentions clear. “Nice to meet you, Dr Reid.” 
I turned back, feeling satisfied. I’d done what I’d come there to do. Except a sound from behind me alerted me that maybe I was a bit early to assume that, because when I’d turned around, an incredibly displeased Dr Reid was throwing away his coffee- the coffee I had brought! That I’d waited for in a morning rush for, that I’d taken the time to add even more sugar to- that coffee! In the trash! His eyes met mine as he dropped it into the trashcan near his desk, shuddering a bit as he did so. He didn’t even look apologetic. 
I approached him, a bit upset and sad, but there was caution in my tone, not wanting to offend him before he even had a chance to know me. “Dr Reid, I’m sorry was the coffee-” Dr Reid quickly interrupted me. “Did Emily not tell you my order?” He asked, a little bit of sharpness to his tone. 
Okay, so this guy took his coffee seriously. Emily was not kidding around. 
“Um, yes-” He interrupted again. “Yes? Are you sure?” He said, a bit of condescension in his tone. Okay, holy shit. All this over coffee? “Very sure.” I responded, confidently. “Black, with extra sugar- I even put extra at the counter.” I added this, trying to convey that while I was sorry it wasn’t to his liking, it’s not like I didn’t try. That had to count for something, right? 
Wrong. Spencer Reid did not seem like the type of man who cared about trying. He retorted with, “Well, it wasn’t enough.” And with that, he shuffled to the breakroom, seemingly to make his own coffee. 
It seemed like from there, things only got worse. In one of my first cases, I quickly made a quip about the statistics on suburban murders, hoping to add some valuable information to the conversation. I tried hard not to overpower anyone and stay in my lane as the resident newbie, but Spencer seemed to take personal offense to it, going out of his way to argue that it meant nothing. I fired back, hoping to affront my point but Reid quickly cut me off.
 “You’re new, alright? And young. It’s granted that you should be clueless when it comes to some of these things.” His words, although somewhat true, were accompanied by a harsh tone and a coldness in his voice. What could’ve been well-meaning advice from a senior agent on the team was clearly not that at all. All signs pointed to one thing: He absolutely hated me. 
For all I tried, it seemed like he only disliked me more. It wasn’t unnoticed by my teammates, how he’d dismiss me. I was aware of my newness, of my inexperience, how this team had had years to grow around each other before I was ever even considered for this position, but it seemed with the more time I spent at the BAU, Spencer’s disdain only increased. He seemed to go out of his way to not sit by me on the jet, or how he seemed absolutely uninterested in anything involving me. I understood that not everyone would like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. I didn’t need friendship, just his tolerance, and even that seemed out of reach for Dr Spencer Reid. 
Eventually, this led to the dynamic  we harbored now. A year into the BAU, and instead of a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, it was constant bickering. It’s not like I wanted to argue- he just made it impossible for me to find footing within the BAU. I obviously stood up for myself, but was met with resistance from the doctor, and so the cycle continued. 
Still, despite the obvious dislike Reid harbored for me, it wasn’t like that magically made him dumb, or any less attractive to me. His intelligence was as impressive as I’d expected it to be, if not even moreso. I watched in real-time as the cogs in his mind turned, his slender fingers finding a point on the side of his mouth to tap, before stopping and sharing what he’d just thought of. He was brilliant, and no one could take that away from him
 However, in this particular case we were currently dealing with, it seemed that brilliance simply didn’t matter, because how could someone like him be so absolutely stupid? 
The hostage situation we were dealing with was tricky, to say the least. Multiple civilians, and a trigger happy unsub. Any experienced agent would be at a loss when handling something like this, but Spencer seemed confident. He’d been pushing to storm the building, citing that more people would get hurt the longer they allowed the unsub to continue making demands. I found myself  wholeheartedly disagreeing, attempting to put my foot down and be heard. I found that perhaps, through negotiations, we could not only save the civilians, but walk away with zero people hurt. Naturally, this caused commotion between the senior agent and myself. 
“Reid, I’ve told you for the millionth time that this unsub can’t be approached like this!” I whisper-yelled, clearly fed up with Spencer by this point. He questioned every decision of mine, and it's gotten to me. 
“(Y/N), you’ve dealt with maybe 3 hostage situations in your life. This isn’t something for you to take point on. We have civilians in there, and it’s more important we save them.” He responded, in his own hiss. 
“You’re being ridiculous!” I retorted. 
“You’re naive!” He shot back. 
We’d clearly reached a head when it came to this. Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m using my seniority here. We’re going to give the go-ahead to SWAT and make our way into the building.” 
I found myself returning the gesture. “Spencer- '' I began, only to be interrupted.
 “Dr Reid.” He corrected, venom in his voice. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I replied, furrowing my brows. 
“What?” He countered, seeming calm, but his eyes gave away simply how determined he was to win this. 
“This is a terrible idea.” I said, firmly. “Someone’s going to get hurt.” 
“Oh, and how do you know that?” Spencer quipped. “Is it your years of experience in the field? Or your time spent as an FBI agent?” He said, sarcastically. 
“I understand I don’t have as much experience as you, but-” I started, but I found myself cut off by him again. Bastard. He never let me finish my sentences. “Exactly.” He responded, calmly. “You don’t have as much experience. I know what I’m doing. Let’s go.” And with that, he walked, leaving me to simply follow. God, I fucking hated that guy. Forget the intelligence, none of that mattered when he was such a dick. 
As they entered the warehouse doors behind SWAT, I  knew that it was wrong. Something was off. We’d profiled this unsub as the dominant type, and an egotistical personality that wouldn’t allow for a partner. It was a part of the profile that they were sure of. It was part of the reason why Spencer was so confident of going in. 
Upon entering though, the SWAT team had a clear shot of the unsub, but in a split second, there were shots heard from an entirely different part of the warehouse. From the direction in which Spencer was directly in line of. 
It wasn’t like I thought about it, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. It was based on pure instinct. I found myself in front of Spencer Reid, the man who’d questioned my every decision since I’d begun my job, taking a bullet for him. Maybe he was right, maybe I was an idiot. 
I heard the gunshot first, then felt the cold floor pressing into my cheek where I’d been knocked down. Then a tight pressure in my arm. I finally looked down, seeing a bloom of red appear under my dress shirt where a bullet had struck, away from the vest I wore to prevent this sort of thing. I took in a sharp breath of air, eyes widening as my breathing began to quicken. I rolled onto my back, only to be met with Spencer’s concerned and frightened expression above me. I heard ins and outs of his speech into his receiver, as I faded in and out of consciousness. 
“Yes! We have an agent down. We need medic, now!” He yelled. I watched him in fascination, his face currently seeming to be the only thing I could focus on besides the overwhelming burning that I felt. I heard him speak to me, calmly. “Y/N? Stay with me, okay? You need to stay conscious. Okay?” He spoke to me calmly, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable. I found my eyelids growing heavier as I nodded. 
It wasn’t long until I came to, groggily opening my eyes to see Spencer’s concerned face looking back at me. I heard his voice, soft and distant. 
“(Y/N)..?” Spencer said, cautiously. 
“Dr Reid?” was my response. I was still a bit dizzy, and a bit confused about my whereabouts. 
“You were shot.” He replied, immediately. “In your arm.” He added, as if that wasn’t already obvious. 
I found myself chuckling, “Yeah, I can tell.” I said, my eyes meeting his. His expression was a bit unreadable, a mix between sternness and apprehension. I watched him, as his gaze shifted and he bit his lip. “You took it for me.” He said, suddenly. “The bullet, I mean.” He continued. “It would’ve hit me if you hadn’t gotten in the way.” 
“Gotten in the way?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow. 
“Gotten in the way.” He repeated back to me, his face hard. 
“Are you upset I took a bullet for you?” I said, furrowing my brows, my lips parting in shock. Was this guy serious? 
“Yes.” He said, his voice angry. “What were you thinking?” His voice wavered with anger and another emotion I couldn’t quite discern in that moment. 
“I wasn’t thinking, I just-” 
“Exactly.” He responded, harshly. “You weren’t thinking.” He said, his voice reaching a volume I’d never heard before, granted, it was still collected, but I’d never seen this side of him. 
I contemplated how to respond to this, actually not being able to believe that he could be mad at me for something like this. Yes, it was brash but- he didn’t get shot! Isn’t that a plus? His voice broke my thoughts, now a bit more shaky, softer. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? If you’d been hurt worse, what that would mean for me?” He said, looking right at my face, into my eyes with a blaze. “What you mean to me?” 
I found myself unable to respond, still not being able to grapple with what he was saying. What he was implying. “Sorry?” I asked, softly. 
“(Y/N)..” He said, softly. His own expression mirrored my confusion mixed with longing I’d never seen before on him. Especially when he looked at me. His hand brushed across my face, moving some hair that had drifted near my eye. I held my breath as he did so, watching as his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, still watching intently. I felt my lips slightly part as he came closer, unsure what was going to happen in this moment, but regardless, my gaze was intently trained on his. 
In a split second though, the sounds of the rest of the BAU filtered into the hospital room. They jumped away from each other, Spencer now 4 feet away from me. Emily came up to my bedside, looking at the wound. 
The typical chastisement came, and the general choruses of appreciation that I was still alive. The diagnosis revealed that (Y/N) would be just fine, given I remembered to clean my wound liberally and change the bandages.
In about a week, I found myself discharged. I was given about 2 more weeks to rest at my apartment. I assumed the time would be enough to forget the strange moment I’d had in the hospital room. At some points, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it hadn’t happened at all. The tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze drifted to my lips, so subtle it could’ve as easily been a figment of imagination. I shook my head, as if I could rid myself of all the feelings I’d harbored about that specific moment. I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a fresh-set of bandages to apply on the recovering wound, wincing as I peeled away the layers of gauze to reveal the injury. As I began to apply the anti-septic, I began to wrap the gauze, until I heard a knock at my apartment door. 
I put down the gauze, looking through the peephole and being surprised to see the senior agent that had been haunting my thoughts for the past few weeks. I opened the door quickly, meeting his pensive gaze. 
“Can I come in?” He said, quickly, almost if he didn’t say the words fast enough, he’d bolt the other direction. I sensed the confusion about his own actions, and opened the door wider, allowing him to push past me into my apartment. He noticed the gauze, and the open wound, and raised an eyebrow. 
“I was changing the gauze, sorry.” I said, explaining the sight on my kitchen table. He immediately took a step towards the table, picking up the bandages. “Let me help.” He said, quietly, motioning for me to sit down. 
I found myself sitting, out of pure habit of obeying him, but still shook my head. 
 “Dr Reid, no, it’s fine.” He quickly shook his head, mirroring my previous actions,  already beginning to take my arm, his light touches on my bare skin shooting a shiver up my spine. This was noticeable to him, him immediately retracting his hand. 
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, softly. 
I found myself shaking my head. “No, no. Sorry. Just. Continue.” I said, trying to get the words out without looking at him. I suddenly remembered the strangeness of this situation, and forced myself to calm down as he began to carefully wrap the bandages around my injury, swallowing and looking up. 
“Dr Reid, why are you here?” I asked, carefully. I made sure that my tone was neutral, not trying to express displeasement, but still a bit confused about his intentions here. 
“You took a bullet for me.” He replied, simply, as if that explained why he was in my apartment, looming over me as he tenderly wrapped gauze over my arm, looking at me with the gentlest gaze I’d ever seen on him. I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I know, but-” He interrupted. “No, (Y/N), you don’t know.” 
Immediately, the rage returned to my eyes, the months of dismissal I’d faced from him flooding back in a moment, and those emotions came to full light in that moment. my brows furrowed, my face turning sour. “Oh, I don’t know, Spencer?” I said, sneering at him. “Am I too young, too stupid, too inexperienced for you?” I question, sarcastically. “Am I so dumb, that I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I stepped in front of you?!” I say, my voice practically yelling at him now. 
“Yes.” He whispered, dangerously close. 
“Excuse me?” 
“Yes. You weren’t aware.” He says, repeats, softer this time. “It’s the only way any of this makes sense. That.. that you were so unaware, so blinded that you weren’t thinking when you stepped in front of me.” He said, quietly, remaining just as close as before. 
“I wasn’t.” I said, firmly, my brows still furrowed but the tension slowly left my face, being replaced with a softness. 
“Why did you do it then?” He said, dropping his gaze as he began to focus more on the bandages. “I haven’t been very forthcoming with you since you’ve begun your time at the BAU.” 
“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I said, trying to make humor of the situation, but it came out a bit more breathless and dry. I was aware of the intimacy of the situation, and it seemed my body was catching up. I could physically feel the way my cheeks were heating up, and how they were close enough that I could see every breath that exhaled from his lips. How, despite everything, I still desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment. 
I couldn’t be crazy, when he secured the bandages and slowly trailed his eyes over my figure, sitting in front of him. I saw the same desire I felt, reflected in his eyes, and I found myself biting my lip. What the fuck was going on?
“So why’d you do it?” He repeated, still looking at me. 
“It felt natural, I..” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I had felt in that split-second, but instead went with the simplest retelling my brain could manage, considering how close he was. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I said, looking at him. “I.. I care about you.” 
I felt stupidly vulnerable. His breath fanned over my face, and I bit my lip. I waited for him to say something, anything, staring anxiously at his face. 
“I’m a good profiler, you know.” He says, softly. 
I  chuckle a little at this, moving away so the tension can be relieved. “Trust me, I’m reminded of that every day.” I said, feeling like the distance between them was now more manageable, allowing me to talk.
But in a moment, he closed that distance to its predecessor, just as close as they were a moment ago. “You learn a lot about body language. Not just by learning to profile, but through years of experience. It just comes naturally, reading people. You can’t really turn it off. It’s like trying to forget how to breathe.” I hung onto his every word, and found my breath hitching when he directed his monologue to me. 
He gently inquires, “Do you understand?” 
I nod, looking up at him, as he inches closer. 
“So I hope you’ll understand and not take offense when I say I’ve been profiling you.” He pauses.  “Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” He says, looking right into my eyes at this point. 
My brain is screaming at me to say no, to not take the bait that he was dangling right in front of me, and to not cross that line tonight. Because, surely, that’s where this was going. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man in front of me was going to ruin me, if I let him. 
Instead, I ignore the instinct and intuition I normally rely on, and nod. “What did you find out, Dr Reid?” I responded, a bit shakier than I wanted to sound. 
“Your pupils dilate when I come near you. It’s an involuntary response, but I notice it every time. I’ve seen it in low and heavy lighting, the only commonality in both those situations being that we were in some proximity to each other.” His voice was low, and seductive, something I’d never heard from him before. 
“Your heart rate.” He murmurs, slowly picking up my wrist and pressing a thumb to the pulse point. “This isn’t exactly the best way to measure heart rate.” He explains, “My thumb. It carries its own pulse that can make it hard to distinguish between mine and yours. But right now, (Y/N)?” He mumbles. “I can tell. Because your pulse is going crazy right now. It’d be hard to miss.”  He said, with a low chuckle.
And he’s right, I can feel my heart getting faster with every second he speaks to me, in that hushed tone that seems to be driving me crazy. 
“It’s not just tonight. I’ve noticed it since the day you walked in.” He whispers, getting closer to my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Since you brought that terrible coffee, actually.” 
I pulled back, letting out a noise that was both composed of surprise and amusement. “Oh come on, it was not that bad.” 
“It was, but I can tell you tried.” He said, a small smirk playing on his face. “It was cute.” He said, now taking the time to brush some hair out of my face. It all happened quickly, his gaze tender and soft, before he captured my lips in a swoon-worthy kiss, pressing himself against me. I quickly melted into the kiss, letting out a satisfied sigh as I gripped his forearm, before rising from the chair as he slowly guided me to my couch. I let out a nervous laugh as my knees hit the cushions, tumbling a bit as I fell onto the soft pillows. He immediately pulled back, breathless, looking at me worriedly. 
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured softly, kissing me again, a bit more gentle so I could murmur a soft “no” against his lips. 
“Good.” He growled, positioning himself above me on the couch,  beginning to press hot kisses down my neck, eventually reaching my exposed sternum, and looking up at me through hooded lids for implicit consent to continue, to which I nodded, feverishly. 
“Please.” I whispered, hoarsely. 
He took no time in obliging my request, rising a bit to remove the fabric of my shirt in one, clean swoop and continuing his assault on my chest, leaving open-mouthed kissed, eventually switching to nips and playful bites, as he sucked marks into the swell of my breasts, leaving me letting out delighted sighs and soft moans, which only seemed to encourage him to go lower. I arched my back, screwing my eyes shut, until he felt him stop, and come back to my neck. 
He murmured against me, close to my ear. I could feel his lips slowly brush the sensitive skin between my ear and neck, barely giving me any real stimulation, but it was enough to drive me crazy anyway. 
“Keep your eyes open, baby.” He whispers. “I want to see every part of your pretty face when I do this.” He says, returning lower again, leaving little kisses everywhere he could possibly go with his lips. I opened my eyes on command, watching as he went lower and lower, before finding the button on my jeans, slowly undoing them with nimble fingers and moving them off  my legs. I could imagine them so vividly inside me, expertly guiding me to pleasure in a way that mine couldn’t. But right now, if I wasn’t fucked senseless by him right now, I’d just about lose my mind. 
“Spencer.” I whispered, breathlessly. “I need you.” I breathed out. “Please.” 
“You need me to do what?” He asked, smirking as he already began to undo his own belt. 
“Spencer.” I repeated, firmly, not wanting to say the words. 
“Say it.” He says, in a much more commanding tone. 
“Spencer..” I repeat, breathing out again. “Fuck. I need-” I waver on the words, biting my lip. “I need you to fuck me. Now.” 
His smirk turns into a grin of satisfaction and pride, capturing my lips in yet another passionate kiss. “Mm. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says, cockily. I whined against his lips, tacitly begging him to just get on with it and he chuckles, moving off of my mouth. 
“Alright. I get it.” He says, moving his lips downwards again, his lips brushing against my underwear, as he began to remove that fabric as well. He nearly moaned when he saw just how wet I really was. It was a bit embarrassing, just from a few touches and words, but it was hard to care when I felt his tongue right on my core, beginning to lap at the hot flesh, reducing me to moans as I knotted my fingers into his hair, arching my back and bucking my hips to feel more of his ministrations. He seemed to understand, hooking his strong arms under my thighs, firmly planting me to the couch we were currently on, continuing. I could feel his moans against me, sending vibrations that only heightened my arousal in that moment. As if that was even possible. 
And then it was, because I heard him murmur against me.“You taste-” he paused, using his tongue to lap up more of my arousal. “So fucking good.” He finished, beginning to now harshly flick at my clit, which caused an entirely new slew of sensations. I recognized my end was fast approaching, and I tugged on his hair, unable to form the words as the white-hot pleasure overtook me quickly, he seemed to understand this without a word, nursing me through my orgasm as my thighs shook around him and he held my hips down. Even then, he didn’t stop, continuing to flick his tongue, lapping up my arousal until I had to physically push him away with a soft groan. “Spencer.. It’s too much.” Even then, he continued, reducing me to nothing but moans, and I heard him whisper. “Come on. One more. Please.” The words unintentionally caused a flutter in my stomach, and in record time I was being pushed towards my second orgasm in a matter of 5 minutes.
His mouth was clearly so much better at this than arguing. 
I felt him lap up the last bit of my arousal, looking up at me with a glistening chin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most erotic sight in the world at that moment. The man that had questioned me at every turn, now in between my legs. He gave a smirk, moving up and giving me a rough kiss, and I didn’t hesitate to moan in his mouth when I could taste myself on his tongue. He smiled as he broke the kiss, caressing my cheek with one of his hands. His thumb moved along the smooth expanse of my cheeks. 
“Are you okay?” He asks, gently, concern in his eyes. 
I couldn’t help but break out into a dazed smile, nodding, a thin cover of sheen over my body, where I was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. I’m good.” 
“Good.” He breathed out. “I’m not stopping.” 
“I don’t want you to stop,” was my response, his shirt coming off before I’d even finished my sentence. 
I watched in fascination as he undid his belt, the very sound of it filling me with anticipation and desire. I could feel myself getting more aroused by the second, despite my previous two orgasms. I wanted him, I wanted this so badly. 
I felt him position himself over me, and feeling the head of his arousal run through my folds. I let out a breathy groan, as I felt him push into me. He let out a moan of his own, shutting his eyes. “You feel.. So fucking good.” 
I whimpered slightly as my body adjusted to him and his size. He was so big, and I’d never felt full like this before. He noticed this and placed a gentle kiss against my lips, watching my face as it contorted in pleasure and pain. As the pain began to subside, I looked up at him nodding. 
“Move, please.” I begged, the desperation evident in my voice.
He took no time in obeying my request, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me. I moaned, feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up in a way I had never been full before. A pleasant sensation bloomed through my lower abdomen, and I could feel him bury his head into my shoulder as he pushed into me, my walls clenching on his length with every movement he gave. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, and I moaned happily at the feeling. In an instant, I could feel him fucking me desperately, placing both of his hands on either side of my face. I could feel my jaw drop, and no sound came out. I was being hurdled towards my third orgasm of the night and it was all at the behest of the man in front of me, plowing into me like it was his job. 
I moaned loudly, my legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried in my deepest point, feeling my release creeping up on me. 
“Sp-Spencer..” I groaned, attempting to alert him of my impending orgasm, but he simply swooped down, kissing me roughly, which only caused me to moan into his mouth. 
“I know, baby.” He whispered, in a deliciously dark tone. “Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over my cock.” 
It took no more provocation from there, as I felt my hips buck up once more and my thighs shake. I came with a loud moan of his name, my free hand gripping onto him and leaving scratches I knew wouldn’t go away for a while. 
My release seemed to spur him on, the wetness allowing him to fuck into me harder. I watched the man above me lose all control, and it was beautiful. He grunted a bit, and I could feel his hips stutter, chasing after his orgasm. 
“Please, Spencer.” I begged. “Fill me up, I need to feel you come inside me.” I whispered. 
It didn’t take long after that, after a particularly hard thrust, a warmness filled me at my hilt and Spencer nearly collapsed over me. He gave me a kiss, murmuring into the skin of my neck. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.” 
I smiled at the praise, biting my lip. I let my hand traverse over his back, drawing figures into the warm skin. I looked at the man laying on my sternum, looking absolutely fucked out despite being the one to give me three orgasms tonight. “Perfect, you say?” I teased. 
He looked up at me, kissing my lips softly, before mumbling against them, “Mm. Perfect.” 
I had a sneaking suspicion the next time we were at work, and he’d have something to say about my work, (because he always did), it wouldn’t take long to have him whispering sweet nothings to me in an instant, just like he was now. At least I could do something right on the first try.
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hi!! this is my first fanfiction i've written since i was literally in middle school. spoiler. far from middle school right now. leave a comment, reblog, like, whatever! i had fun writing this. my ask box should be open for more requests? if anyone would like. anyway! hope u enjoyed!! :3
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apparentlytheproblem · 7 months
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Hi! I hope you’re having a great day! I had an idea for a fic and I thought I’d send it to you!
Theodore Nott or Mattheo Riddle x fem! Reader
The readers on her phone relaxing after spending all Saturday on homework, and she opens tiktok and watches edits edits of her boyfriend and watches some for like hours and then he walks in- (stay with me bestie-) and she dosent notice, and she’s gotten really horny, needy and turned on *cough* maybe she goes on character ai to try to make her miss him less and she’s just super horny- he sees her watching edits of him and it’s just super smutty?
A/n: Also this is my first time requesting! I sent this to a couple of my favorite fanfic authors bc I didn’t know who would respond, I love your work pls keep it up!!
p e r f e c t i o n
fandom- Harry Potter
pairing(s)- theodore nott
a/n: thelloo my darling, i am so sorry it took so long. i couldn't choose which character to do, so both are uploaded, one is the copy paste of the other except their names [ofcourse] so there isn't much difference, tysmm for requesting and i hope you're happy with how this turned out :)
p.s i love you and this literally has me giggling and smiling
requested- yes
currently playing- forever favourite
warnings- this is set in a modern au, here he's a famous actor
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you placed your pen down, a clicking sound was heard as the cap enclosed the nib. you uncross your legs and make way to the couch with your phone on one hand, ready to take a well deserved break.
you opened TikTok, the symbol animatedly popping up as her for you page loaded. there was something so addictive about it, not that of the app, but how the edits and controversies of your boyfriend pulled you in for hours.
the thing was, the both of you had an argument and you're missing him more than usual. you long for him to grab your thighs, the neck kisses, his fingers running down you as if to sculpt you.
from POVs to edits to just scenes of him had you captivated. just the thoughts of him doing what they claimed. you found yourself rewatching an edit of his thighs. for some reason they turned you on so much. his walk, his arms, the way he moved, how could he do it all so seductively.
was it getting hot in here?
you instinctively started unbuttoning your shirt and removed your shorts, leaving you in a pretty set. you were home alone anyway, who would be bothered? but god didn't he love that set. you rested on your stomach as you encountered an audio, a one with Theodore Nott fucking you. you could feel yourself practically melt with his voice draining all thought and reason on your mind.
his slow footsteps took him to the bedroom which's door was slightly ajar his hand preoccupied with takeout.
fuckfuckfuck
you eyes look up to see the the biggest grin. he though he'd won. he knew you wouldn't go too long without him. it made you upset. but at the same time, his barely buttoned up shirt was loosely hung and his trousers outlined his visibly growing bulge.
leaving the food gently on the desk facing the door, he lifted you up from the bed with his hand under your thighs, placing you on top of his study.
his eyes ran through the pretty blue lace, he always said it looked lovley on her skin. he closed the gap between her, your breats pressed against him.
"I'm sorry my love, but i don't mind fucking you while you're still angry at me. it quite turns me on."
Theo backed you up against the wall, his mouth warm and heavy on yours as your fingers hooked his belt buckle. you were far from angry, you were ready to end him, oh and he knew. he would be dying today, but atleast it would end with his face berried in your pussy.
“sweetheart..” he held his palm out to you, pressing you against the cold wall as his chocolate eyes gazed you in absolute awe.
you pulled Theo by the tie, his hands swiftly picked you up and dropped you ever so gently on the centre of your bed. you push his standing figure on his back roughly as he just has the most blissful expression on his face.
you leaned over Theo and gently placed a feather like kiss on his abdomen, your fingernails gently paving a path down him, reaching towards his abs, the hard muscle were as if god himself had taken the time to sculpt it for you.
you slowly mount him, ghosting above him slightly.
"you have such an annoying face Nott."
that was absolutley untrue. is face was perfection. it was gorgeous and defined and just perfect.
"sit on my annoying face then baby" he murmured. it was soft and kind.
you crawled to the head of the bed, "you’re fuckin perfection." you muttered, pressing a gentle kiss on his jaw as he positioned his hands round your hips, pulling you on top of his face. you settled in, your legs locked on either side of his pretty head. one arm was resting on his chest lightly as the other played with his soft curls.
"fuck" you moaned, his lips spread under you only sucking harder, the sensation making you shudder. you were already dripping and he's just gotten started.
"darling-" he shushed himself off as you moaned, your fingers entangled in his brown hair as he lapped up your juices, quickening his pace.
his tongue lightly ball room danced around your clit as you came and your hands switched to the bedsheet so you don't nearly pulled his hair from his roots. he was memorized with the feeling of your thighs tightening
he continued his pace and as if muscle memory you gripped his hair again,
"fuck-"
you moaned out as he gripped your thighs, acting as if he could swallow you whole.
another orgasm.
and another.
one by one, they all fell into order.
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sunnyaelia · 2 months
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Grey Hairs
You find a grey hair on Leah’s head, almost giving her a midlife crisis at 26 
Pure fluff 
If you sent in a request: working on it but I got a new phone and need to transfer all my fics on it first so have this in the meantime
-
Leah gently swats your thigh when you stop, having made you play with her hair for the last 20 minutes already. She was sitting with her back to your chest, leaning against it while she was solving a sudoku. You had been trying to watch your favourite TV series though your attention was now mostly on your girlfriend, given as she didn’t tolerate even a second break, wanting to soak up your full attention. 
Although you do have to admit that this was nice, feeling calm and relaxed at the feeling of soft silky strands of blonde between your fingers. 
The calm atmosphere is destroyed when you make the mistake of pulling something out of her hair strands. “You’re aging my love.” 
Leah turns, almost tugging the little hair out of your hands during that, but you grip it hard, showing her the grey hair that’s between your fingers. 
As soon as she sees it she gasps, grabbing it and pulling it out and then she’s up from the bed with it in her hands, looking at the grey hair as if it just murdered her entire family. 
“I’m still in my twenties, literally why do I have a grey hair?” You’re already laughing when she starts pacing the room, a full on frown etched onto her face. 
Your laugh gets even louder when she turns towards you, one finger pointing at you accusingly while the other hand still has the cause of this outburst held up.  
“It’s your fault for always stressing me out.” She huffs, crossing her arms as you don’t seem to take her seriously at all, simply amused by her dramatics. 
“Maybe it’s because you constantly have a frown on your face. The rest of the body is just trying to fit into your grumpy old grandpa aesthetic.” 
An offended look on her face, Leah stalks towards you, carelessly letting the hair drop down to the floor. 
“Excuse me? I am not a grandpa.” 
“Your shoes say otherwise.” You point down to her house shoes that your grandpa would probably wear with pride and joy, something that you always made fun off as soon as she put them on. 
A gasp leaves Leah in absolute offence before she pounces on you, pressing the air out of your body as you two wrestle on the bed for a moment before she successfully tackles you down onto it and starts tickling you. 
“Apologise and maybe I’ll stop.” Leah’s smile is almost sadistic as you twist and turn, desperate to make the tickling stop. 
You give in fairly quickly therefore, yelling out that you take everything back while gasping for air.
She sits up, a satisfied expression on her face before pulling you into her arms. You wait until your breath is halfway even again, wanting to reassure your girlfriend incase she was honestly upset about the grey hair.
“Leah, grey hair is normal. It’s not a bad thing. Also, you were born with blonde hair. Maybe it will turn white and that looks really cool.” 
Leah chuckles at your attempt to cheer her up, honestly not that bothered by the hair and having had more of a dramatic moment. She felt relatively safe at the thought of being 27 soon, still a bit away from her 30s. It was cute that you wanted to cheer her up though and it earned you a few kisses pressed onto your face wherever she could reach.
Your next words destroy her illusion a bit again but you just can’t help yourself to tease her at least once, knowing that her birthday was coming up.
“You’re not that old yet, you know? It only gets bad when you’re 27.”
She pinches your side at that, though she can’t suppress a laugh.
She kisses your cheek and then your hair softly, pulling you more into her before she answers, being surprisingly sweet. 
“Well, I’m glad that I get to turn old with you by my side.” 
You smile at Leah’s words, for a moment lost in her incredibly blue eyes. Still, you can’t really stop yourself from teasing her one last time: 
“So, you do agree you’re getting old?” 
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sincerestlove · 22 days
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Jealousy - R.G.
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reneé is SO BEAUTIFUL i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. someone call 911 because i am about to have a heart attack. babygirl is SO FUCKING FINE.
Pairing: Regina George x Reader
Request: Regina x reader where Regina and reader are in a secret relationship but someone tries to hit on reader at a party and Regina gets jealous?
Warnings: None; just hot, protective, jealous, possessive regina.
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"Hi, pretty girl." Your beautiful girlfriend greeted you at her front door with a smile, pretty white teeth on display. She held her hand out for you, which you accepted gratefully, allowing her to pull you to her car.
You had previously agreed to meet her here so that she could drive the both of you to Gretchen's party tonight. Usually, she would have asked you come over earlier in the day so you could get ready together, but you already made plans to get your hair done. Regina complained about it when you told her, but with the way she was looking at you now, she wasn't upset anymore.
The blonde led you to her passenger's side door, gently backing you against it, before leaning down and taking your lips in a bruising kiss. "You look so hot in that outfit." She breathed out against your lips, her hands sneaking up and under your top. Her touch was so light it was almost ticklish, feeling yourself smiling into the kiss. "And your hair looks perfect."
She always managed to make you feel good about yourself, always make you feel beautiful. She constantly showered you with compliments, even when you weren't all done up like this.
Pulling away reluctantly, you blinked, before meeting Regina's bright eyes, marveling at the way the hues of blue and green with a dash of orange, blended together. You took the opportunity to take in her outfit. She looked breathtaking - tight, black tank top underneath her leather jacket, dark jeans, with silver jewelry adorning her slender fingers, neck and ears.
God, you were the luckiest girl in the world.
"You look gorgeous, Gina." You spoke shyly, leaning back up into her, hands fisting into her jacket and tugging her closer. She kissed you again, warm tongue nudging your lips apart. You got lost in each other for a few moments, pleasant sighs coming from your mouth.
Regina broke apart from your lips, moving to nip at the skin of your exposed neck. You couldn't help letting out the soft moan that bubbled in your throat, head moving back to rest against the cold window. "If you keep doing that, I just might have to take you back inside, pretty girl." She murmured against your skin, sucking harshly, leave behind a few dark purple marks. You sent her a pointed look as she pulled away, a satisfied smirk on her lips. "Just to make sure everyone knows who you belong to."
Regina nudged you aside and opened the door, gesturing for you to get in as your face turned beet red. She was always quite possessive of you, even from the start of your "secret" relationship, but even more so when you went to parties together.
Honestly, it was hot.
She shut the door once you were settled, moving around to slide into the driver's seat. "Buckle up, baby." She flashed you a killer smile before peeling out of her driveway, free hand coming to rest on the exposed skin of your thigh. The touch made you shiver, shifting slightly in your seat. The blonde sent you a knowing look, laughing under her breath.
She absolutely loved the effect she had on you.
~~~
The party was already in full swing by the time you and Regina arrived. She parked in Gretchen's massive driveway, making sure that no one else could block her in. You really weren't a huge fan of parties, but eventually, viewed it as another opportunity to spend more time with your girlfriend. Albeit, in a setting you didn't prefer, but you could take that on the chin without much of an issue. Any time that you could spend with her was more than worth it.
"You want a drink?" You nodded, following closely behind as the blonde beelined to the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out a colorful drink. She opened it for you, before setting it in your hand. You thanked her gratefully, taking a sip of the drink. It was quite sweet, the taste of alcohol very minimal, which you appreciated.
Regina looked around the room, eyes stopping on Gretchen and Karen. The two girls were sitting in the living room on the couch, Gretchen crying her eyes out. You both could tell they were very drunk. Regina sighed, turning to you. "I'll be right back, going to go check on them." You nodded, taking another swig. "Don't go anywhere, yeah?" She squeezed your hand, lingering for a moment longer before walking off toward her friends.
You watched her off, hips swaying confidently, the crowd moving out of her way without missing a beat. It still amazed you how she could command an entire room so easily.
You were lost in thought for a little while as Regina disappeared into the crowd, until you felt a quick few taps on your shoulder. Spinning around, you were met with the sight of Cady, grinning at you. Since when did she go to parties?
You thought she was nice enough, knowing her on a very minimal level as the two of you shared a math class last year. You hadn't really spoken to her much since then, only a friendly hello here and there when passing each other in the hallways.
"Hey, Y/N, funny seeing you here tonight. I had no idea you were coming!" You smiled at the redhead awkwardly, shuffling on your feet.
"Yeah, Gretchen invited me. And Regina." You smiled at the mention of your girlfriend's name, doing a quick glance over to where she was supposed to be. The trio was no longer in the living room, though, making you frown. Maybe they went up to Gretchen's room to calm her down?
"Where is she?" You looked back over to Cady, noticing that she had taken a step closer to you, leaning forwards. The surprise of it made you stumble back, coming in contact with the counter behind you.
You laughed slightly, hand gripping tighter on your drink. "Oh, uh...she just went to the bathroom. She should be right back."
Cady cocked her head to the side, taking another step closer to you. "Really? Cause I've been watching you for a little while and she still hasn't come back." Her smile got wider, hand coming up to brush your arm. You recoiled at the touch, flushing yourself back against the counter. A rush of panic washed over you, killing what little buzz you had, noticing the smell of alcohol on her breath and the glazed over look in her eyes. "You know, Y/N", she brushed against your arm as she continued, "I've always had a crush on you. I think you are so pretty." She batted her eyelashes, biting on her lip. "Would you want to maybe go out sometime?"
You just blinked at her, completely baffled at what had come out of her mouth. "Oh..." You smiled awkwardly, moving even farther back to create more space between you, "Cady...I'm really flattered, but no, I think we would be better off as just friends."
Cady laughed. "Come on, I think we would be so great together. Don't you?" She leaned even closer, looking at you expectantly.
Was this girl serious?
As your brows knitted together, you was about to tell her no again, when a warm body pressed against yours from behind, all too familiar hands slipping around your waist and pulling you flush to her. The sweet scent of her perfume filled your nose, relaxing you almost instantly.
"I think the lady said no, Cady." Regina's tone was short and laced with anger, her arms tightening around you. You didn't even have to look at her to know that she was glaring holes in Cady's head. The girl turned red with embarrassment, muttering an apology under her breath before quickly running off.
You let out a deep breath you hadn't realized you were holding, nearly going limp in Regina's embrace. "Are you okay, pretty girl?" Regina turned you around to face her, eyes scanning your face. You nodded as she cupped your cheeks and set your drink on the counter, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. You melted into her, leaning your weight against her front. After a moment you separated, smiling at each other, until you heard someone clearing their throat.
Oh, shit. The party.
"Gina, everyone is looking at us." You whispered, feeling anxiety bubbling in your stomach and crawling up your throat.
Everyone had gone quiet, the eyes of almost all of your classmates locked on the two of you. Regina tensed, but surprisingly, didn't let go. "Me and Y/N are together." Regina voiced loudly without wasting a beat, eyes softening as she looked at you. "And if any of you losers have a problem with it, I will burn you to the ground."
The crowd murmured amongst itself and you watched as everyone simply nodded, shrugged and went on with the party as they were. Both you and Regina visibly relaxed, thankful that there wasn't much of a scene.
No one cared, really. Half of the student population already assumed that you two were together. Neither of you hid it very well - exchanging lovesick glances at lunch, holding hands "platonically" yeah right, lesbians, bringing each other coffee and lunch, whispering to each other and giggling. Gretchen and Karen already knew, exchanging smiles as they watched Regina proudly kiss you in her kitchen.
You smiled at your girlfriend, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You never imagined coming out together in this way, but honestly, it was very fitting. Regina hugged you tightly, whispering her love and adoration for you in your ears, loud enough for only you to hear.
"I love you."
Your heart fluttered, feeling a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I love you, Gina." You held each other for a few long moments before separating. The blonde was looking down at you, pretty smile sitting on her pretty lips. "So..." you trailed off, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Were you jealous of Cady?"
Regina scoffed, rolling her eyes. "As if. That girl could never hold a candle to me. She should've taken a hint - there's like, three big ass hickeys on your neck."
You laughed, pulling her in for another kiss, unable to resist. "No one ever could hold a candle to you, Gina." She just looked so hot when she was jealous. "Take me home?"
The blonde grinned, taking your hands and dragging you to the door without wasting another moment. "I thought you'd never ask, pretty girl."
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i hope you enjoyed!
as always, please leave requests if you have any! :)
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amomentsescape · 3 months
Note
Hello I am craving angst. Hey can you do a headcanon for the slashers? [Maybe Slasher X reader] Like could you do headcanons. What if the Slashers found their SO has been killed? or Maybe headcanon for Slashers if they accidently killed their so?
Sorry if my grammar is bad.
Slashers Reacting to the Death of Reader
Slashers x Reader (Individual)
Warnings: Mentions of death & killing, some cuss words, ANGST
A/N: All aboard the angst train! I kind of combined your request so some of the Slashers are about Reader accidentally being killed by them and some are an "outside" murder.
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Freddy Krueger
He specifically told you not to come into his Dream World tonight
It was too chaotic, too much going on
His victim was a lot faster than he had anticipated
So he did his best to catch up with them
But he just couldn't seem to get close enough
So finally, Freddy's anger took over and he caused the sky to rain knives onto the poor teen
Once things were silent, he walked over to his victim, only to see another body laying further back
Freddy's breath caught
He ran over and saw you
You weren't supposed to be here
He told you not to come
Your eyes were already glazed over when Freddy picked you up
His eyes were going hazy, and he was staggering to your shared bed
He laid you down, your blood immediately soaking through the sheets
And it was only then that Freddy screamed a terrible sound into the world
The whole town would soon be reduced to nothing
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Michael Myers
God, he didn't mean to
He just couldn't stand it in that moment
You were upset with him, arguing about how he can't just disappear for days on end without so much as a word
But he was just pissed
None of his killings went as planned, he could barely feel a thing, and here you were yelling about him not being around
It was too much, and he just needed the sensory overload to stop
His mind went dark
It felt like just a moment until he gathered his senses
But when he was able to finally focus, your limp frame was in his arms
Your neck was severely bruised, and there were still fresh tears on your cheeks
He couldn't have done this... right?
He kneeled there with you in his arms
He didn't cry, didn't yell, didn't even move
He just stayed frozen in that position, feeling absolutely nothing
Whatever humanity he had left, it died with you
There was nothing holding him back now
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Jason Voorhees
There had only been a couple circumstances when a victim escaped Jason
And even then, none dared to go anywhere near those woods again
Except for one
For some reason, the death of his friends was too much
He was seeking revenge
Jason was inside the cabin cleaning up his machete while you were out picking flowers
You were wanting to make him a flower crown
He immediately dropped everything when he heard a single gunshot ring out through the desolate area
He sprung up, walking out to find you
It didn't take long before he saw a man leaning over a body, apologizing profusely over and over again
When he realized who was lying on the ground, he immediately ripped the man's head off, not even wasting a second
He lifted you in his arms, frantic on what to do
With your last moments, you struggled to smile and grip onto his hand, giving him a silent reassurance
He watched you go limp in his arms
He laid there with you for an eternity, feeling utterly lost
By the evening, he had a gravesite set up for you, and he was already packed
He was going to head into town this time
He would make sure there would be no survivors
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Thomas Hewitt
It was just a freak accident
Thomas had gotten in up in the middle of the night while you were sleeping, slipping away to the shed
However, you had no idea where he had went
Fearing the worst, you walked out into the night, looking around for him
But in your worried state, you forgot about one of the traps set up outside
You accidentally triggered it and was immediately impaled
Thomas heard the trap go off and quickly rushed over to it
The moment he saw you, his heart dropped
He ran over and held you, trying to get the trap off of you
But you pleaded with him to leave you be, knowing your fate already
He was frantic, begging and crying with you to let him help
But you knew it was too late
You reached out and touched his masked face, offering a warm smile before your head dropped
Thomas took care of your body, having his family help make a gravesite for you
He was never the same after your death, and he became the most brutal killer out of everyone
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Bubba Sawyer
The newest victim was willing to do whatever it took to survive
In a frenzy, they didn't even register what was happening
They saw you and immediately stabbed you in the stomach, quickly sprinting away thereafter
You screamed for Bubba, your body unable to move from the pain
It didn't take long for him to come to you, the area being filled with his whimpers and gasps of fear
He tried to turn you over, but it only caused you to let out cries
He was looking around frantically, trying to figure out what to do
But you just asked him to lay with you, knowing that help would never make it in time
He did as you asked, you both crying together
The moment you went silent, the air was filled with his screams
He was inconsolable
The moment he found the victim hiding away, he did his absolute worst to them
He didn't care about food in that moment
He wanted to invoke as much pain as possible
Your body was carefully tucked away in bed, Bubba refusing to leave your side for days
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Brahms Heelshire
You were hoping to surprise Brahms, sneaking out in the night to pick some berries for tomorrow's breakfast
He normally slept like a rock, giving you ample time to complete the task
However, this night, he found himself awake to an empty bed
When he discovered you about to walk out the door, he went into a rage
How could you abandon him like this? Didn't you love him anymore?
He grabbed at you viciously, not seeing anything else but red
You tried to plead with him, telling him that you weren't going to leave
But this all fell on deaf ears
He wasn't thinking, he just grabbed at you and slammed you into the ground, your head bouncing from the force
He only stopped his attack when he saw the empty look on your face, and suddenly everything began to sink in
He froze up and began to cry, collapsing on top of your body
He didn't mean to
He pleaded to you that he didn't want to hurt you
He ended up placing your body on the couch, tucking the doll into your arms
At least this way, there was no possible chance that you could try to leave him again
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Norman Bates
He blacked out
He didn't mean to, but something inside of him snapped when he noticed Mother's things had been misplaced
When he finally came to, you were lying in your shared bed, a knife sticking straight up from your chest
Norman became hysterical, not understanding what had happened
"N-no, no, no...."
He cried into your shoulder, holding your body close to his
It didn't take long for his mind to become numb, his teary eyes staring dazedly off into space
He ended up pulling another chair next to Mother, sitting your body beside hers
Mother always loved you, and Norman was sure she'd appreciate the company
It's okay, he reassured himself
You're home with him and Mother
He has his family still
Nothing is wrong
How could it be? You're still here with him...
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Billy Loomis
You didn't tell him where you'd be tonight
It was just supposed to be a small get together, nothing important
So why did it matter?
But little did you know, Ghostface would be making an appearance
Billy was quick to get through the small group, eventually making his way around the corner to the next room
However, as you turned to figure out what was going on, your body ran straight into him
Not wanting to have a victim slip from his grip, he stabbed the knife into them quickly, not wasting any time
However, the moment his gaze tilted up, he saw those familiar eyes
As your body dropped, he caught you, ripping off his mask
"(Y/N)?! What the hell are you doing here?! You're supposed to be at home-"
"Billy?" you croaked out
"It's me, baby. Oh my god..."
His voice broke and the tears began to slip down his face unwillingly
Your eyes began to flutter, and he started to shake you in his arms
"Don't you dare fucking do that. You stay with me, alright?"
But your eyes soon glazed over, and Billy found himself yelling at your lifeless body
"DON'T DO THIS TO ME! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME!"
Without you, there would no longer be mercy
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Stu Macher
It was supposed to be a fun night together
It wasn't unusual for you to join Stu on his sprees
He loved having you by his side, being there to help him do something he enjoys
But this group was different than the others
They fought back
And when there was only one person left, they somehow managed to grab a nearby kitchen knife and slam it straight into your chest
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Stu screamed
He took his own knife and slashed a gaping wound into they're neck, killing them quickly
He kneeled down beside you, taking your face in his hands
"Hey, hey! You're gonna be okay, alright?"
But you just shook your head
"Look at me. Look at me!"
You did your best to meet his eyes, trying to stay conscious
"I'm gonna get you out of here, and then we'll- (Y/N)?!"
Your eyes had closed, and your head drooped in his hands
Stu began to scream, begging and cursing for you to come back
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Eric Draven
One of the first rules Eric gave to you was to never go looking for him at night
It didn't matter how late it was or how long it had been
You stayed home where it was safe, no matter what
But on this night, you broke his rule
Eric was supposed to be back hours ago, and yet you were alone in your bed, worried sick
You eventually gave in and went out into the night, searching for him
But unfortunately, someone else was watching you, quickly jumping out and stabbing you in the neck
They took your wallet and ran, leaving you to bleed out on the sidewalk
But it was only a matter of seconds before a familiar figure ran up to you, placing his cold hands against the wound in your neck
"Goddammit! What did I tell you?!" Eric cried
You tried to speak, but nothing came out but warm blood
"(Y/N), please don't go. Come on, you're strong. Stay with me"
You reached your bloody hand out, caressing Eric's cheek softly before your whole body went limp in his arms
His cries could be heard echoing throughout the night
Without you, he has nothing
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jyoongim · 4 days
Note
Heya! I found your account a couple of days ago and I am obsessed with your soft Alastor fics, they're just so beautifully written! You are crazy talented, I love your writing.
I was wondering if I could request a soft!Alastor x reader fic where Alastor does something scary like threatening someone in his big demon form, and reader witnesses it and just gets a little fright. When he finds out he's really apologetic and holding them and it's all just really fluffy.
Thank you, and have a wonderful day!
- a new anon: 🌻
🌻 anon that’s so cute! Welcome to my shit show!!!
Your request was so cute! And just what i needed to get out of writer’s block.
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You walked beside Alastor as the two of you trailed behind Charlie as she showed Lucifer around. You  hadn’t noticed Husker behind the two of you until he called out to Alastor.
”Hey boss a word” You paused and watched as Alastor’s eye twitched. He spun his neck like owl to acknowledge the cat
”What is it?”
Husker’s eyes drifted to you and Alastor turned his attention to you “Dearest why don’t you go on ahead without me, ill catch up in a few”
You smiled and nodded, letting them have their privacy.
You hadn’t gotten too far when you heard Husker talking about Mimzy’s sudden appearance at the hotel.
”Me and you both know Mimzy only show her ass when she needs you to clean up her mess. That bitch is trouble”
you hear Alastor laugh “Don’t worry about it Husker! Its nothing I can’t handle besides who would dare cross me?”
The flickering of the hallway lights caught your attention and Husker’s yelp made you turn back.
Rounding the corner, your eyes widened as you see Husker cowering on the floor and Alastor is pissed.
He has a green chain in his hands and he’s slowly approaching Husk, wrapping the chain around his arms
”If you EVER mention that again I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams FOR EVERY DISRESPECTFUL WRETCH WHO DARES CHALLENGE ME!”
Alastor transforms just big enough to fill the hallway and towered over the shaking cat
”Do you understand?” He tilted his head
Husker nodded frantically and in a flash Alastor was back to normal “Lovely” before he could turn around you ran.
You were shaken up. Alastor had joined you again and you couldn’t help but distance yourself from him.
You didn’t understand what had made him so angry to threaten Husker.
You had never seen Alastor upset and you didn’t like that he acted like nothing had happened.
It was rather late when Lucifer had left and everyone had gone off to do their own thing.
You usually spent your nights with Alastor in his radio tower, but you opted to be alone in your room.
A knock at your door pulled your attention from your book and the door opened to reveal Alastor.
“I thought you would be keeping me company tonight my dear” he had a soft smile on his face as he approached your bed.
You scooted away from him before he could pull you to him and he quirked his brows,  confused.
”Darlin? What’s got you so spooked?” He asked as he settled on your bed.
You felt guilty being afraid of Alastor, the Overlord had never once made you feel scared, but his actions towards Husk made you feel unsure of him.
”You scared me earlier” you said softly, fiddling with your hands. “I had overheard you talking to Husk and-and I saw you. You were scary Al”
Alastor's eyes widened.  He didn’t know you had witness him lost his composure and now you being distant the whole night made sense.
His ears furrowed against his head as he took in your nervous expression.
He reached for your hands, bringing them to his lips and letting out a soft purr to soothe you. 
You softened as you let him pull you into his lap.
”Oh my dear I’m sorry I gave you a fright. That you had to see me in such a distasteful light” he apologized nuzzling you.
You giggled as he peppered kisses all over your face.
“Just never get big and scary unless absolutely necessary” you poked his chest, trying to be stern.
Alastor let out a low laugh, nodding “I will do my best to not let my anger get the better of me”
You held out your pinky “Pinky promise”
He looped his claw around yours bringing it to his lips, bright green smoke swirling around the digits
”Deal”
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fayes-fics · 11 months
Text
(Be)Longing
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.
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Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.
Word Count: 5.2k
Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3
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I: Saved
“Unhand her at once!” 
The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.
You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.
You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.
You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears. 
“Are you alright?” 
You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.
“Yes,” you squeak quietly.
“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”
“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.
“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.
Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.
“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.
“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.
He chuckles. “You must be new here?”
“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.
“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.
“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”
“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.
With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.
“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.
“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.
“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.
“And thank you,” you curtsy.
“Whatever for?” he frowns.
“For rescuing me,” you clarify.
“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”
“Yes,” you confirm shyly.
“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.
A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable. 
You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.
II: Envy
“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.” 
Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.
“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.
Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty. 
It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.
Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.
Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage. 
Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.
And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.
“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder. 
You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.
“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.
“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.
“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.
“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”
You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him. 
You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.
III: Jealousy
“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake. 
You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought. 
It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.
Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.
Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.
“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”
Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.
“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.
“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.
Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach. 
Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.
It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.
“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.
Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.
Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.
Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw. 
Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.
“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him. 
Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.
“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.
Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.
“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”
“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.
Benedict looks almost disgusted. 
“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”
You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.
“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?” 
You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers. 
He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.
Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian. 
“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.
Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.
You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.
Boswell never darkens your door again.
IV:  Rescue
“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.
“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.
It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.
“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.
So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.
Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.
Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear. 
And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.
Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.
He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly. 
“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.
He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.
“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”
A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.
Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one. 
Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.
“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.
“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.
There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.
Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action. 
You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.
“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.
“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster. 
Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along. 
And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall. 
Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.
V: Belonging
“You can come in.”
Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection. 
So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.
It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.
Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.
“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.
“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”
You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.
“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.
You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”
“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.
You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.
“I am very sor….”
He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.
“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.” 
Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.
“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.
“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.
“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.
“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.
He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.
“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”
You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.
“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.
“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.
And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest. 
You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.
“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.
“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.
“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”
You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.
“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face. 
Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges. 
“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.”  You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.
“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.
He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.
And you couldn't agree more.
In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.
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Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz
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punkshort · 23 days
Note
i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?
i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂
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I hate when you're right
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.
Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene
WC: 2.5K
dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics
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You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.
You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.
Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.
You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.
The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.
"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.
He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."
You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.
"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.
"They ain't practical."
You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"
His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.
"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.
"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."
He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.
"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.
"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.
Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.
"Alright, when they stop to reload-"
"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.
Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.
Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.
You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.
"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.
Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.
"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.
"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.
When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.
"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.
"Focus," he scolded.
The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.
"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.
"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.
Two against two.
When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.
You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.
"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.
Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.
One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.
Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.
He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.
You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.
"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.
Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.
"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.
"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."
"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.
"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.
"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.
"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."
"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.
"Yes, I do. I gotta-"
"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.
"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.
"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.
You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.
"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."
"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"
"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."
You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.
"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.
When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.
Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.
You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.
"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.
"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.
"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.
"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.
"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.
"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."
"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."
"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"
"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."
You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.
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As I said you are getting 3. This one is just silly, based off friends, and honestly someone else might have done it already so real credit to them if you have read it! But we love trans Reg! (Also I do not condone the transphobia & homophobia in Friends!) With love ❤️
Oh baby! (1/1) (jegulus) (option 3/3)
Regulus: I'm pregnant.
Sirius and Remus: what?
Sirius: well obviously this is a mistake. You can't be pregnant.
Remus: clearly he didn't do it on purpose Pads...
*remus eyes regulus, wide and questioning.*
Regulus: No! But I didn't know you could pregnant on T, yet here we are!
Sirius: I can't believe this. You're the good one! You went to college. Both years!
Sirius: who did this do you?
Regulus: James Potter. He's a real nice guy. I like him a lot. He's real funny.
Sirius: You got pregnant for "funny"? Reggie…if he's funny…laugh!
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Hi, I saw a note that you are accepting requests and if you aren’t totally ignore this
But could you write something with Theo nott, where she speaks a different language and her English isn’t perfect so she makes a mistake instead of saying she’s going to meet someone she says she’s going on a date and he gets all upset and jealous, maybe angst to fluff or something <3 I think it would be cute
- Thanks 🪐🪐
It's A Date (Theodore Nott x F!Reader)
warning- she/her pronouns, google translated french, i changed it a little from the request but it's basically the same.
a/n- I am in a very Theo Nott mood if you can't tell.
word count- 721
“I don’t know, I just really like her,” Theo says, his cheeks slightly rosy due to Pansy’s prying.
“Oh come on! There’s got to be something specific you like about her,” Pansy says, giggling at the tall boy’s embarrassed state, “Just give me three things you like!”
“I like her french accent, I guess,” He answers after a small pause, “She’s also pretty and so sweet. I’ve got no Idea how she was ever sorted into Slytherin.”
“I think you should ask her out. She would definitely say yes, you’re an absolute catch!” Pansy says, getting more excited about Theodores crush.
“I’ll think about it. Let’s get going for breakfast,” He answers, grabbing his satchel and walking out of the common room.
Not soon after the two get settled down at the Slytherin table, the lovely smell of your vanilla perfume fills Theo’s nose. “Bonjour Theo!”
“Good morning,” He replies, giving you a small smile and scooting over to give you some room.
“How has your morning been?” You ask, he blushes slightly at your strong accent. His Italian accent was never that strong, he only ever spoke Italian around his mom and her family. You however spoke it all the time, you and Draco had a plethora of conversations in French.
“Better now that you’re here,” after a small pause he gains a slight amount of confidence, “I was wondering if maybe-”
“Hi, (Y/n),” a boy from Ravenclaw says, cutting off Theodore before continuing, “Would you want to accompany me to our next Hogsmead weekend?”
“Yes,” You say with a smile, “It’s a date!” You didn’t really mean that it was a date at all, it was simply just an expression you’d heard. However it broke all of Theos confidence he previously had.
“De toute façon, what were you saying Theo?” You ask, turning back to the pretty boy with hopeful eyes. Unknown to anyone, you also fancied Theo.
“I was um- just wondering if you got the paper on alhistoy?” Theo says, ending his sentence with a large gulp of orange juice.
Your smile deflates a little bit, “Oh, yeah I did.” You pull out your paper and hand it to him. Theo had already gotten the paper finished, so he just silently stared at the prettily written page for a few seconds before handing it back.
Theodore didn’t talk to you very much for the next few days, he spent a majority of his time alone talking to Pansy about his heartbreak.
Theo didn’t plan on talking to you until after your trip with the boy, and even then he wanted to wait a while.
“Hé! How have you been Theo? I’ve missed you!” You say, finally getting to see him.
“How was your date?” He asks, angry, not looking at you.
“I didn’t go on a date?” You reply, puzzled.
“Did you end up not going then?” He asks again, looking up at you.
“I went to hang out with a friend, but I didn’t see it as a date,” You answer, taken aback.
“You didn’t?” He asks, standing up and walking towards you.
“Non, we’re just friends,” You answer with a smile, now looking up at the boy.
“But you said it was a date,” He says, with a flat face.
“Isn’t that just an expression you English people use?” You reply, laughing slightly at the boy.
“Okay,” He replies, slowly.
“Are you okay Teddy?” You ask, stepping closer to him.
“Yeah,” He says, absentmindedly, “I think I’m in love with you.”
“What?” You reply, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Teddy, are you sure?” You ask, sucking in a breath, waiting for his response.
“I was a little heartbroken when you said it was a date,” He breathes, pulling you into a hug, “Now I would like to do what I was too scared to do. Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asks after pulling away from the hug slightly.
“I would more than love to go on a date with you, Teddy,” You say, giving him a smile and pulling him back into a hug, smiling even wider when you feel him smile into your neck.
“It’s a date then? For real this time?” He says, muffled by your neck.
“Obviously,” You say, laughing at his lame joke.
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gloryy-vs · 1 year
Note
Can I request the sullys taking metkayina reader to their home and she’s attracting a lot of omaticaya men and neteyam becomes really jealous and possessive please <33?
Enough Staring
|| absolutely not.
i’m jk pls don’t leave. I LOVE this idea, i can just imagine neteyam being all huffy and puffy about it 😭
characters: neteyam x metkayina! reader
ratings: SFW , jealous neteyam
||
He was pissed. It’s like they’ve never seen a Na’vi before. Well to be frank, you were an ocean Na’vi, so all these forest folk were in awe at home big, round and blue your eyes were, the different striping on your face, your beautiful proportions that were evolved to work the best in the ocean. At this point, Neteyam was admiring you too. He and his family returned to the village to grab a few extras of their belongings, ones they forget and left behind. You were demanding to come, never wanting to depart from your mate Neteyam.
He was so happy for you to join, as you seemed to be so enthralled and entranced by the beauty of the forest, while others were entranced in the beauty of you. Groups of Omaticaya men circled you, bowing their heads in respect to seeing you, and allowing them to come forth. You enhance in conversation, noticing the vastly different dialects more clearly now, but it was manageable. They reached out to touch your hair, the texture being lightly different and kinky compared to forest people. Neteyam was digging his fingers into the tree beside him, sucking his teeth as he saw you adored by all the Omaticaya men and women. Lo’ak walked by with his extra belongings, following his parents before he stopped next to Neteyam, “This is why I didn’t bring Tsireya.” He said smugly while his brother shoved him away with a tsk.
Neteyam couldn’t stand it anymore; seeing you laugh obliviously while they all gawked at you and your body. He stomped over, towering from behind you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back gently while leaning downs lightly to speak to you. “Come, we’re going back.” He said grimly while staring down the Omaticaya men in front of you. You again, obliviously held onto his arm, turning around to face him. “Already? The forest is very beautiful. Though I’m sad theres not much water..” You happily walked past him. heading back to his Ikran with a positive attitude, while he scolded the Na’vi from earlier, and out of respect the apologized quickly. Neteyam allowed you to get on the Ikran first, hopping on right behind you. He used his hand to press your back to his chest, burying his face in your neck protectively.
“They were gawking at you. It pissed me off.” He said. his accent becoming more distinct with his upset tone. Neteyams Ikran took off, flapping away to the islands again.
“You were jealous? You know I am your mate for life, Ma’neteyam.” You said, a smirk playing onto your face. He sighed, “Not jealous..it was enough staring as is.” He says trying to brush off the accusation to save his ego.
He was cute when he was mad.
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darkbluekies · 5 months
Note
The track runner reader fic w/Silas got me thinking👀
Hear me out okay..
Ballerina reader x Silas
How would he react to see her practice,her shows
Swan lake, Giselle..
Italian fouettés, Entrechat quatre x3 royale, Developpe A la Seconde etc
Yk the high extensions,leg holds the whole shebang
Just a thot👀
Stolen part
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Yandere!mafia x fem!reader
Summary: you've finally been granted to do ballet, but when Silas sees you upset, everything turns into a nightmare
Warnings: yandere, mentions of blood, broken bones, a lot of guilt and confusion, panic attack(?), reader just feeling horrible
Word count: 2.1k
A/N: I took some creative liberty with your request, I hope that's okay. And uh, I know 0 about ballet, so take this with a handful of salt<3
One performance — that’s the deal. One single performance and then you’ll go back to normal life. You nearly fainted when he told you that you could do one dance, after months and months of begging, pleading and crying. You almost started threatening him when you became desperate enough. 
“Well … we’re here”, Silas sighs as his men stop the car. “You know the rules, don’t you? Do we have to go through them again?”
“No, I know them”, you smile. 
You take his hand while exiting the car. Silas smiles and squeezes your hand softly. It’s worth all the trouble, he tells himself. If you’re happy, then it’s all worth it.
When you enter the practice room, you’re met by a dozen other girls wearing the same clothes as you. It’s been such a long time ago that you’ve felt so … included. There’s a certain feeling about wearing the same thing that creates a unity you can’t explain. 
“Run along”, Silas tells you, giving you a small push towards the group. 
He walks over to the instructor. He can tell right away that she knows who he is. He braces himself. She can either call the police or let him go. If she decides to call the police, he’ll have to create a blood bath and snatch you back in the car. 
“Can I have a word with you?” Silas asks politely. 
“Sure”, the woman answers hesitantly. 
“I can tell by the look on your face that you know very well who I am, so I want to make a deal with you.”
“What type of deal?”
“If you don’t call the cops on me and give my girlfriend an honest chance — because I know that she’s magnificent — I will fund your entire club. All clothes, all expenses, all props, venue, is on me. Fair?”
The woman thinks for a moment. Silas know that the club is underfunded. He knows that she has to agree.
“Okay”, the woman says shortly. 
“Good”, Silas replies and waves at you to come over. 
You skip over with sparkling eyes. He pulls you in to kiss him, in front of everybody. His kisses are always controlled by him, but they always show extremely much love for you, a deep hunger nothing can satisfy. 
“My men will stay to supervise, to make sure nothing happens to you”, he says and gives you another kiss. “Have fun now, little thing. I’ll see you soon.”
You nod. Silas squeezes your shoulder, gives the group of ballerinas a warning stare and then leaves. 
You return to the group. The people who knows who Silas is give you nervous gazes and the ones who don’t look at you with jealousy. 
Well, this is starting off great, you’ll absolutely make many friends.
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Time goes on. Silas enjoys seeing the wise smile on your face every time you exit the building after a practice. Every time you’re in practice, he takes the opportunity to do some errands. He always makes sure to come pick you up clean, never covered in blood. 
But one day, you’re crying when you meet him. His heart drops in an instant and he thinks that putting you in ballet was a mistake. It wasn’t worth it at all. 
“What happened, baby?” he asks worriedly and takes you in his arms. “What did they do to you?”
You struggle to talk through your violent sobs. He believes that you’re having a panic attack, but you can still move relatively well. Silas grabs your shoulders and waves at his men to come over. 
“Y/N, what did they do to you?” he asks and looks at his men. “Did any of the others hurt her?”
The men shake their heads. 
“Y/N!” Silas says sharply. 
“I-I didn’t … get … the ... lead role”, you manage to get out through your sobs. 
You know it’s silly, of course. Honestly. It’s childish to cry over not being the main character, but this was your only chance to be on stage before you’ll get pulled back into capture. You’ll never have this much freedom again. It’s embarrassing to cry about this, and you know that very well, but they don’t know how much you’ve suffered to even be in the practice room. 
“You didn’t?” Silas asks shortly. 
“No”, you cry. 
Silas turns to his men and hands you to one of them. 
“Bring her to the car”, he says. “I will be back soon.”
He disappears into the building. The practice room is empty, apart from the constructor who is cleaning up after today's class.
“Oh”, she says, noticing him. “Can I help you?”
“If you're smart, you can”, Silas says coldly. “I heard that Y/N didn't get the lead role. I'm just wondering why?”
“She wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this particular role … I mean, she's extremely good, but just not what I had in mind when I visualized the lead. She's a runner up, though.”
Not good enough, Silas thinks.
“Okay”, he says and nods. “I see.”
Without waiting for an answer, he turns around and leaves. Anger is burning through his chest. Seeing you so upset makes him see red. He would burn down the entire world for you to watch you smile. He walks back to the car where you sit in the backseat and the two men in the front. 
“Hey, baby”, he smiles and sits down beside you. “Are you feeling better? Should we get some food on the way home?”
You nod. Silas smiles and wipes your tears. His men are forced to hear how he sucks the air out of you in the backseat. He devours your lips, trying to comfort both you and himself. He holds you in his arms, letting you cry. The more you cry, the more embarrassed you feel. You’re ashamed because you can’t understand why you are so upset over it. It’s just a role, you’ll still be on stage, won’t you? Is it because you think that you’re better than the others? That you deserve the position of the lead? Do you deserve it because you’re so good or because this is your only chance? The others have many more opportunities to get the role you want, why can’t you just get one? You’ll never be seen again, why can’t you get it?
Why are you thinking like this? You’re not entitled to anything. Has Silas imprinted the narrative that you’re so special, so wonderful that deeply into your brain? Do you believe that you’re this special, one of a kind person that deserve everything because you’re so special? 
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Silas asks, caressing your cheek. “You look so thoughtful. Let me in.”
“I- … I- …”, you start, but can’t seem to talk — you can’t even formulate your own thoughts.
“Breathe, baby. It’s okay, you’re with me now.”
“I am breathing … I just …”
“Just …?”
You shake your head. 
“Just hungry”, you lie. “And tired.”
“It’s okay, you’ll get some food soon”, Silas promises and kisses your lips once again. “We’ll stop by McDonald’s.”
You get your food and you eat together with Silas in your bedroom, but you can’t stop thinking about the lump in your stomach. Why are you so upset? Why can’t you put words on your feelings? 
You lay awake the entire night in your empty bed (because Silas is out working) and think. Crying over not getting the lead role won’t make you enjoy the last few weeks in the club. Ballet is your true love, you should do everything you can to enjoy it — specifically because you’ll not get it back. You should be happy with your role — you’re even a runner up! That’s fantastic. You breathe out. Ease sets into your heart. It doesn’t matter what role you get, as long as you have fun. 
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When you enter the practice room the next time, you can tell that something is wrong right away. The girl who got the lead part … has crutches. You feel a shiver run down your back. Mortified, you shake your head. Silas. He must have done something to give you the lead role, that you so desperately wanted. He never got to know that you became satisfied with your original role. Guilt washes over you, suddenly you feel extremely sick. You need to take a hold on the wall to not fall. One hand presses against your chest to not vomit. 
“Y/N, are you okay?” one of the body guards asks as they hurry over. 
You nod sloppily. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god. This is all my fault. 
This is what you had been feeling bad about — finally you can put words on that weird feeling in your stomach. You were scared that Silas would do something to the girl that got the lead without even noticing it. If anything, that shows how close you know Silas.
“He … he did this … didn’t he?” you whisper, feeling distant. 
“The boss couldn’t stand to watch you be upset”, one of the body guards answers quietly, only for you to hear. “He made sure to get you the role he wanted.”
You’re freezing. That poor girl. Suddenly you don’t want that part anymore. The part is dirty, and your hands are covered in blood. 
Your mind is anywhere but in practice when you dance your stolen part, but your body works for you. 
Silas is standing out in the parking lot a wide smile when you walk out. He opens his arms for you, but you don’t walk into them. 
“Are you happy now?” he asks. 
“You shouldn’t have done that, Silas …”, you say quietly and shake your head. 
He tries to grab you, but you jerk back. Silas frowns. 
“But you wanted it”, he says. “You had a panic attack. I gave the part to you.”
“Silas, I feel extremely guilty. I stole her part. It’s not fair.”
He grabs your shoulders and force you to look at him. 
“The world isn’t fair, little thing”, he says. “If you have some power, use it. I want to use my power to make you happy, baby. You’ll do better than that girl ever could. You should have gotten that part from the very beginning.”
He gives you a kiss and brings you to the car. 
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When the day for the performance arrive, you refuse to come out of the dressing room. The costume looks horrible on you. You can only see the other girl in the mirror. None of the other girls have talked to you after the lead girl ended up with crutches. They all know why you got the role. And how you got it. 
“We start in five minutes, get out!” the instructor tells you and basically pulls you out on stage. 
You see a lot of familiar faces in the crowd. Silas has brought as many of his men as he possibly could. Silas himself is sitting in the front row with his right hand man beside him, smiling at you. You look around. All his men are smiling at you. Weirdly enough, it’s somehow cute. They all look like they could kill anyone in any second, but the second you look their way, big, genuine smiles creeps up on their faces. Turning them from killer machines to teddy bears. 
You dance to the best of your ability. This is what you’ve been begging and pleading for. Better enjoy the spotlight while you can. You can’t help but feeling dirty throughout the performance. Silas, however, has never looked this proud before. 
The second the applauds roll in, you fall to your knees, crying. You fulfilled your childhood dream, but at what cost? A girl broke her leg because of your emotions, you stole her role … you’re covered in dirt that you can’t wash off. You don’t deserve these applauds. You don’t deserve any of this. 
“Y/N!” Silas gasps and runs up on the stage with his right hand man by his side. “Are you okay, baby?”
“I want to go home”, you sob. “Get me out of here.”
Silas nods and waves at his men to walk out. He picks you up and follows his men. 
“You did so well, baby”, Silas smiles while walking. “I’ma always proud of you, but this was something else. Everyone saw how absolutely fantastic you were. You’re an absolute badass, baby. I fucking love you so much.”
You smile slightly. It’s finally over. You’ve achieved your dream — although you wish that you never had done it — and now, you’re going back to your locked bedroom. You almost long for it. 
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churipu · 3 months
Note
HAIIII IPIN !!!!!!! can i request gojo, geto, and nanami (separate) having a gf that's really optimistic? just someone who sees the good in everything and anything, and positive at all times! thank SOOOO much !!!!
JJK MEN + OPTIMISTIC GIRLFRIEND
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featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento x fem! reader
warning. people being mean to u >:(
note. HAIIII ANONN!!! i love this request bcs sometimes i read books, mangas, watch movies, you name 'em and see a certain character having the most positive mindset and i just go must protecc >:( anyways, thank you anon for requesting just after i opened the request box, istg i love all your ideas so much it makes me feel full <;33
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GOJO SATORU. absolutely hates the way you try to see the good in people — specifically people who have hurt your feelings in the past. he just wonders what goes on in your mind to just forgive and forget everyone who has wronged you.
you did. but not him.
"baby, that guy called you names when you were in high school!" gojo whines, laying down on the bed, draping an arm over your torso, "why are you still willing to meet him?"
"satoru, he said he was sorry!" you smiled at him, tracing his features softly — the male grumbled but leaned into your touch, "and plus it's not nice to hold grudges, it's been what? how many years?"
a loud whine escapes his throat as he pulled you close, "it doesn't matter how many years it has been, he still hurt your feelings. and nobody does that to my baby," he said, miffed.
you couldn't help but to chuckle, "well, you are coming along, so i have nothing to worry about."
the male grins, "damn right i am coming, he better sleep with one eye open starting from now," gojo threatens.
gojo just cannot wrap his head around your concept of "forgive-and-forget" because you never hold grudges, you forget everything and still talk to people who've wronged you, and you still have the heart to accept them.
as much as people say "forgive and forget", they end up at least holding the tiniest bit of grudge — or even a bigger grudge, right? but you? you don't. you actually forgive and forget.
well — thankfully, not him. he takes his job to protect you seriously, from any kind of harm, including monsters (people who were mean to you) both in the past, present, and possibly the future.
"baby, can you stop hanging out with that one girl? the one who always wears the purple colored eye-shadow?" he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"hm? why?"
"i don't like the vibe she gives out. it's giving...well...cruella de vil." he murmurs into your neck, nuzzling his nose in content as you went on with your skincare routine.
"satoru," you mumbled, "you can't just judge her by her vibes."
he groans, "but baby, i swear i could just feel it! she's evil," he whispers in your ear.
"satoru."
"okay, fine. just tell me if she does anything to you, i'll give her a piece of my mind (hollow purple)." he mutters out, pouting and upset as you brushed his speculations off.
GETO SUGURU. he loves it and hates it at the same time. geto loves how positive you are against the world — and what more does he need, really? it's you and him against the world at this point, although he feels like he doesn't contribute much to your positive energy (that's what he thinks).
geto thinks of himself as a pretty negative person. and you know. the both of you had a lot of deep talks about everything, including what you both had in mind. and honestly, geto wasn't surprised if he hears you talking about how your life was going smoothly; and his was just a contradiction to what you have.
it's life, people come and go. but geto seemed skeptical of that term, why couldn't people come and stay? he finds it hard to believe that you could be the one leaving him at anytime of the day, and the thought just terrifies the male.
the death of amanai put a hole in his mind that couldn't be closed off, and it fucking scarred him. but you were there for him, you didn't sugar coat words or tell him white lies — you tell him everything, straight to his face, and your choices of words made him feel loved. what else could he ask for?
"'m sorry," he mutters into your shoulder, and his voice comes out a bit muffled.
you brushed his nape gently, "it's alright sugu, you know you don't have to apologize for being sad, right?" you tell him, pressing a kiss onto the side of his head, "it's okay to be a little sad."
sometimes he asks himself if he really deserved you or not. but at the end of the day; you always convince him that he deserved it.
geto hates your optimism sometimes because he watches people trample over you and you brush them off with a smile, it makes him feel angry. he asks himself why you were doing this to yourself? believe me when he tried asking you to try talking back, or putting up a fight.
"angel, you know it makes me kind of sad that you'd let people talk to you that way," he said to you, grazing his finger over your cheek gently.
you shot him a gentle smile, "'ts okay sugu, what good do i get from arguing back to them, really?"
he just pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, saying nothing. god, he just wanted to protect you from the world — why does everyone have to be so fucking mean to you?
"will you be mad if i tell them off for you?" he asks
"depends on your methods, tell me about it."
"threatening them. if it doesn't work, violence." he mutters out briefly.
"sugu, no."
NANAMI KENTO. he doesn't mind it, he finds you endearing, really. a cat getting hurt? he'll accompany you to the vet with it. or a child crying because of a fall? he'll watch you help them without any single thoughts behind.
he just loves how selfless you are. nanami once read a quote, "when given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind." and every time he sees a selfless act from you — he just kinds of chanted it in his mind, and tell you what, nanami is such a proud boyfriend.
nanami loves how you see the good in everything, a person spilled their food on you? you tell them mistakes happen. a person bumping into you and then blaming you for it? you tell them you're sorry and thought that maybe they just had a really bad day.
but sometimes he couldn't help but to worry over you — someone so positive, bubbly, and optimistic around people who (probably) have disgusting minds. when he's not around to keep an eye on you, he just worries that someone might took advantage of your kindness and throw it out the window.
and he wouldn't be there to stop it from happening.
"ken, i'm going to go out for a hang out. it's fine, i've got my friends with me!" god, the jitters that he gets whenever you mention your friends — he was never really fond of the friends you have now, especially since they were trying hard to earn his attention. he knows they were just using you.
the texts they sent to him behind your back, the shit-talking about you, and everything else. god, he wanted to tell you about it; but he just didn't have the heart to, because he knows it will break your heart.
although nanami told them off quite rudely, defending you — it baffled him to how they still try to hang out with you with no shame after. and he tried telling you about how he doesn't like them, but you tell him it was fine.
"may i come along then?" just the thought of leaving you alone with those people pisses him off to the core, if he can't stop you from being friends with them — he will be with you.
when you agreed, he made it his job to expose them as nicely as he could. and he succeeded, oh the ecstasy he felt when you finally told them you didn't feel like hanging out with them anymore.
(and he ended up showing you the texts).
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© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
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