#got very anxious when anyone else even mentioned it

[rupertholmes]

resisting the urge to buy weights rn. i need to go bear mode.

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️

Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea

Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader

Minors DNI

You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.

He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.

He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.

Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.

He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.

There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.

You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.

"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.

You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.

"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.

Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?

"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.

He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.

He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.

He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.

You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.

His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.

"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.

You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.

"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.

You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.

"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.

You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"

Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:

- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.

- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"

- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"

- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him

- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy

- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.

- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.

- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.

- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.

- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.

- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.

- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"

- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else. 

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places. 

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize. 

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.  

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in. 

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to. 

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much  to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods. 

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own. 

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly,  and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things - 

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s? 

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous? 

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions. 

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself. 

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic. 

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side. 

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?” 

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary. 

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know? 

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.” 

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or  they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.” 

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?” 

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.” 

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad. 

 “I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper. 

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew. 

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?” 

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face. 

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?” 

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Chapter III: So High School

“Bittersweet sixteen suddenly”

series masterlist previous chapter

pairing: post-prison/ cm: evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.)

series synopsis: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

cw: age gap (Spencer is 42, reader is 24 in chapter 1), Use of y/n's (I'm sorry, I know l'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, romance romancing, kisses and touches but no smut (yet…maybe) ; Reader is feisty and flirty; Spencer is anxious and has an aggressive outburst; female reader she/her pronouns, and mentions of typical CM violence.

wc: 2.7k (they just keep getting longer and longer)

“Okay. Classes are canceled, if anyone asks, you’re sick. I called Emily, let her know we won't be working tonight. Uh, what else- oh! I got us a reservation at the Glass Garden. I think that might be fun, and I got us a table at a restaurant that has really great reviews,” he called from his place on the sofa. Hearing the bathroom door open, he turned, his breath catching in his lungs. In the backlight of the bathroom, Spencer Reid almost believed he’d seen an angel standing in his living room in a sundress.

“Oh- um, you look really pretty- not that you aren’t always pretty, obviously you must know that you’re beautiful but I just—in comparison to when you were crying… you’re…” Any attempt to save himself from the awkward hole he’d dug himself into died on his tongue as Y/N giggled. Her laugh was like a ray of sunlight, melting parts of Spencer’s heart he’d long forgotten.

“Okay, so I’m sick,” she gives him her best fake little kid cough, causing him to roll his eyes. “We’re off duty and you made us plans…oh, and I guess I clean up pretty good for a girl who just had a meltdown against our front door.”

“Very well… for a girl who had a meltdown against our front door,” Spencer nods, his cheeks beginning to ache from the smile that’s been plastered on his lips since she entered the room.

Once they were off campus, the couple let out an exhale neither were aware they'd been holding, away from prying eyes allowed to simply exist as individuals for the first time in weeks.

“You said we’re going to a glass garden?” Y/N asks, fiddling with the sleeve of the cardigan Spencer insisted she bring as they make their way down the highway.

“Yes! The Chihuly Garden,” she smiled, loving the way his features lit up with such excitement. “It’s supposed to be this insanely beautiful collection of really intricate and colorful glass sculptures. I’ve always wanted to see it but we never have time when we’re in the city for a case. Actually, I saw one of the artist's pieces in London—god, it had to be almost twenty-five… years ago.”

Spencer’s heart dropped to his stomach, the excitement in his voice dying with the last words, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. His age was showing, and this feeling was something he’d never experienced before. For nearly twenty years, Spencer had been the youngest person on the team. Even at forty-two years old, he still was the baby until Y/N joined. Was this how everyone else felt, talking to him about ‘the good ole days’ for all those years?

Y/N glanced over at him, a soft sympathetic smile taking her lips. In the three weeks she’d spent in such close proximity to Spencer, she’d picked up on a few of his tells. Right now, she could see the wheels turning in his mind, convincing him he’d ruined things and debating addressing the difference in their ages.

“Spence—”

He didn't respond, his mind still running rampant until he felt the pressure of a hand on his thigh, pulling him back to reality and causing him to inhale sharply, his eyes frantically shifting between the hand, the road, and the woman in his passenger seat.

“There we go…” Y/N mumbled, giving his thigh a little squeeze before pulling her hand away and back into her lap. “You know it doesn’t bother me, right? You don’t need to freak yourself out because you’ve got a couple of years on me, Spencer,” she said with a little more confidence than Spencer was used to hearing from her.

“And besides, I’ve always had a taste for older men,” she shrugged, leaning across the center console to press a kiss to his now flushing cheeks. Spencer couldn't even bear to look at her, his heart racing as he tried to remain focused on the road. Was Y/N actually flirting with him or was she teasing him? Surely it had to be a joke.

The remainder of the drive was uneventfully quiet, with the couple only really speaking to point out the landmarks they’d passed until they pulled into the tiny parking lot beside the Space Needle. As soon as he’d killed the engine, Spencer was out of the car, running around the back to grab Y/N’s door. She smirked, eyeing the older man up and down as he playfully caught his breath from the minimal jog.

“Shall we, M’lady,” he mumbled awkwardly, offering her a hand as she slipped out of the car.

“get my car door isn’t that sweet. then pull me to the back seat”

“Who said chivalry was dead… Keep it up, we won't be making it out of this parking lot,” her brow wiggled rather suggestively as she watched Spencer gulp, his palm beginning to sweat against hers. “Come on, lover boy. I need that big brain to tell me all about the pretty glass.”

Their afternoon was spent hand in hand or arm in arm, the two only separating long enough for one of them to take a photo of the other. Spencer claimed he ‘needed a good photo for his office’. Y/N thought it was cheesy, but she’d giggle and pose wherever he directed her, and he’d try to do the same for her; though, his poses were far more stiff and awkward, but somehow, that made them all the more endearing.

They spent hours observing the installations, with Spencer rattling on about the different techniques used for each detail and Y/N occasionally offering her own commentary about how the art made her feel. To any passersby, they looked like a happy couple that had known each other for years, not two FBI agents playing make-believe for a while.

The restaurant Spencer had picked for dinner was across the park from the gardens, so there was no sense in moving the car. The once bright late summer sun had fallen victim to the Seattle clouds that were beginning to roll in as the couple meandered through the park. Spencer’s eyes trailed the younger woman’s face; he could tell she was contemplating something.

“What is it?”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Y/N glanced up at him, her hand falling from his grasp as she twisted her fingers anxiously, waiting for Spencer’s nod of approval. When it came, she paused, taking a deep breath.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, do you know that you completely changed my life?”

Spencer froze a few paces in front of her, brows knit together as he tried to decipher whether or not this was part of her act as the loving wife or if he actually, unbeknownst to him, had an effect on this young woman’s life.

“You taught a seminar in Nevada five years ago, breaking down the relationships between psychology and philosophy in human behavior.” Y/N’s gaze dropped, the summer breeze exposing the blush creeping up her ears. “I wasn’t even supposed to be in the class; I was an English major, but my roommate dragged me along… and maybe it was the way you taught, your excitement I guess? Or the way that it felt like you actually cared. I could’ve listened to you talk for hours.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “After that seminar, I marched myself down to the counseling office and became a psych major… added a year and a half to my college experience, but given that I’m about to walk into a very expensive restaurant, married to the professor who changed my life? I think it just might’ve been worth it.” She let out a breathy chuckle, her eyes searching Spencer’s for any indication of discomfort before dropping her gaze back to her hands, mindlessly fiddling with her wedding band. “Sorry, I just really needed to get that off my chest.”

“tell bout the first time you saw me”

For a moment, Spencer sat awestruck. He rarely found himself at a loss for words, but the newfound warmth in his chest made it nearly impossible to speak. So instead, he took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he nodded, guiding her down the path to the restaurant in silence until they reached the door. He hesitated just outside, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

“Thank you… just… thank you.”

Dinner went smoothly, with the only minor hiccup being Spencer’s tangent about the bread basket and his qualms with group food. But other than that, the two simply enjoyed each other’s company, the sound of rain echoing against the roof as they ate.

As the couple exited the restaurant, they were met with the heavy downpour of a summer night storm. Y/N sighed, pulling her cardigan around her a little tighter, her lips pursed as she looked up at Spencer, his hands stuffed anxiously in his pockets. There was no way they were getting to the car dry, he knew that as a fact. So, with a little sigh and a nod to Y/N, he stepped out from the covered awning, arms outstretched as he let the rain soak him.

“Oh, so you’re crazy!” Y/N called, her voice hardly audible over the downpour, making no attempt to move. After a minute, Spencer jogged back to her, his arms wrapping around her middle as he lifted her, kicking and laughing, carting her out into the rain. She wiggled free of him, a smile plastered on her face as her hair began to drip.

 She spun around, embracing the fact she was now thoroughly soaked, a girlish giggle passing her lips as she tucked wet hair behind her ears “Ya now, even soaking wet, this may just may be the most successful date I’ve ever been on.”

Spencer quirked a brow, his head falling to the side like a puppy’s. “Your dating pool is really that bad?” he mused, remembering what it was like to be in his twenties awkwardly trying to make meaningful connections with people

“I don’t even really date; the men—no, they were boys—that have come into my life only ever want to waste my time, so… It’s like a twisted game of kiss,marry, kill? Except everyone sucks and there is a good chance someone is going to actually be crazy enough to kill you?” She shrugged, taking a moment to stare up at the sky her lashes heavy with raindrops

“So what’s it gonna be?” she called, her head turning to glance up at Spencer, the challenge in her eyes illuminated by the gas lamps lining the pavement. “You gonna marry, kiss, or kill me, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes darkened, accepting her challenge with a mix of desire and determination as he stepped closer. Wordlessly, closing the space between them, his hand gently cradling her jaw, his touch an even balance between tender and possessive. He leaned in, devouring her lips, capturing her in a kiss that was anything but tentative. The kiss was electric, a rush of sensation that made the world around them disappear. His other hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer, his fingers digging into the damp fabric.

Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers gripping the damp fabric that clung to his chest, pulling him closer still. She melted into him, the feel of his lips moving against hers sending shivers down her spine despite the warmth that blossomed in her chest. The rain pounded around them, soaking their clothes and plastering her hair to her face, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Spencer held her, the way his mouth moved over hers with a hunger that left her breathless.

“I’m betting on all three,” she whispered against his lips, her voice dripping with desire.

         “All three…” he repeated, pulling away just enough to press a kiss to her forehead, his hands still cradling her face. “I am way too old for you…” he muttered breathlessly, his head shaking as he brought it down to rest against hers.

“The bureau seems to disagree,” her retort was quick, her lips ghosting over his. “And like I said earlier, it doesn’t bother me. I’m a big girl. I know what I want.” She kissed him one more time, hard and quick, before bolting through the park towards the car, leaving Spencer standing in the rain like a lovesick kid.

Spencer watched her go, his heart pounding hard and heavy against his ribs while his mind raced a million miles a minute as he tried to make sense of the fact that his ‘wife’ just might actually like him.

“Are you coming or what?” The rain had died down enough for Y/N’s voice to travel with ease. Spencer ran his hand through his wet curls, pushing them off his face before breaking into a jog up to the car. When she was within arm's reach, Spencer pulled her close, just taking a moment to hold her, fantasize that this life they were leading could be his reality.

Y/N wasted no time, her lips finding the curve of his jaw with ease, her hands tugging at the collar of his shirt. Spencer let out a groan, his head turning just enough to grant her better access to the sensitive skin at his neck, carefully guiding her back against the car door before returning his hand to her jaw, drawing her lips up to his.

There was a moment of bliss, where this was the only world that mattered, just a couple of lovestruck kids, then the shrill tone of Spencer’s phone cut through the air.

“Let it ring,” she all but whined.

“That’s Emily’s ringtone—” he groaned, fishing the all too loud phone out of his pocket and sighing loudly before putting the phone to his ear. “It’s not really a good ti-” he stopped, his gaze flicking down to Y/N, her frame pressed against the car door, another sigh leaving his now slightly kiss-bruised lips as he untangled himself from her. “No, I understand, I hear you. We’re heading back to the house… we’ll be there to meet the officer.” She took that as her cue, silently slipping into the passenger seat. Spencer stayed outside, pacing the length of the car, nodding to himself as Emily continued to talk.

“I’ll let her know.” His voice was muffled from behind the window. “Yup. Okay. We’ll call you if there’s any update. Good night.” Y/N watched as he hung up the phone, his head hanging low for a moment before he turned, striking the back door in a heated flash of anger, before he stalked around the car, climbing into the driver's seat.

It’s silent for a moment, the car tense with now long-forgotten lust as Spencer tossed his phone into the center console.

“There’s another couple. Same MO, same calling card.” She could see the frustration bubbling to the surface again as Spencer’s knuckles started to turn white against the steering wheel. “Local field agent is going to bring the updated file and the crime scene photos to the house…”

“Spence, this isn’t your fault—”

“I never said it was,” he bites back, sending Y/N shrinking into her seat. “I’m sorry… I just— I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean to snap at you… I know there was nothing we could’ve done. But it's still frustrating.”

She nods, now her turn to comfort him, her hand hesitantly reaching out across the center console to pry his from the wheel, gently squeezing. “I know, Spence. I know. We’ll figure this out, build our profile, but unfortunately, we just need a little more time. Hopefully soon enough, this unsub will take the bait and it’ll be us against them…” She chuckles softly, shaking her head in an attempt to lighten the mood. “God, that’s morbid… thinking it’ll be a relief to have a murderer place a target on your head…”

“You get used to it…” he said, any warmth in his voice evaporated as the engine roared to life.

the brink of a wrinkle in time

taglist : @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @guiltyyassin @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @cherrycemeterry @hiireadstuff @r-3dlips @sweetpeterparker @catertotshitposts

I hope i got everyone! if you’d like to be added to the taglist don’t hesitate to lemme know and as always i’d love to know the thoughts and feelings! xo

[pacifythots]

winbre boys + easily overestimulated reader ; not requested :[

incl. suo, sakura, nirei, umemiya, togame, + choji.

ⓘ there are some moments where you can't avoid discomfort; luckily, your lovely boyfriend is there to help. gn!reader — hurt / comfort. light cursing, descriptions / allusions to a panic attack, mention of anxiety + overestimulation, light teasing, + just hugs ; spur of the moment idea because i just left a repass in new orleans. and if you're black, you know niggas is loud and talk for hours without moving. the combination of loud ass music, 5 different convos at my table, and my "comfort person" you could call her, leaving was alot so i got very overestimulated and decided to write this :]

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ HAYATO SUO

as we've all ... observed, suo is a very observant person. especially, when it deals with people close to him (typically sakura). he notices things others might not, it could be something so obscure, but he'll find a moment to make a little tease or quip about it. this little "quirk" of his doesn't just stop at his friends, it extends to you aswell.

despite his constant "habit" of lying and, or instigating, he makes a very loud point of having clear communication and no "important lies" as he says, in the relationship. hense, he quickly learned about how anxious and overestimated you can become in certain social environments.

everytime the two of you go out—especially to places where there is a large collection of people—his hand is holding onto yours firmly. he's made a point not to leave you alone if possible. he's come to realize that: (1) he could be considered your "comfort person" and (2) how quickly you get anxious when you can't see him, or anyone else familiar.

if you're in a space where you have to sit down, everytime you start tapping your leg, he puts a subtle, yet comforting hand on your thigh.

suo is quick to make sure your comfortable. like, before you leave your apartment, "do you have your headphones?"

if you have a sensory bag? bet, he's making sure you have it.

like previously said, he's very observant; as a result, he can point out the signs when you get overestimulated. that, and he's observant of the environment.

ex. if there's a small space with a lot of people near you, loud music, and a whole bunch of moving, he makes the assumption that you either are or going to be getting to that point.

if you're the type to start crying when you get overestimulated, the second he sees your eyes get glossy he's getting you out of there.

suo notices the way you seem to zone out, when you start picking at your skin or fiddling with your fingers, when you start to look around anxiously, when start to take deep breaths to calm yourself, etc.

he periodically leans whispering to you, "are you okay?"

"are you ready to go?" is a phrase that's used frequently. this time is one of the only times where you see a genuine expression of concern on his face.

if you start start panicking, like breathing hard, fingers digging into your thighs, clearly disassociating, etc. he's immediately taking you somewhere quiet. at first, he tries to ask if you want to move or if he can touch you. but if you don't respond he's yanking you from your seat and forcibly taking you somewhere calmer.

suo is person who can help by talking you out of a panic or anxiety attack. whether it be telling a story or making teasing remarks about some of your/his friends.

"did you see those socks he was wearing?" his face scrunches, "he could've picked something better. personally, i, would've never walked out of the house with clown socks."

at times he'll even make some teasing remarks about you, though they're all remarks he knows will go over well with you. nine times out of ten, its something so stupid or lame that it makes you pause and give him a look.

"shh, don't cry. your ugly crying face needs to go so i can see your regular pretty face."

"please, don't dirty your pretty face with anymore tears."

"you're gonna make me cry, onions must me getting cut."

"draaama queen~, someone's gonna pull out a camera if you keep sobbing like Laura Dern."

he's very unserious in moments he observes it'd be okay to cheer you up with that method. after he sees a hint of smile, or any moment that shows you've calmed down he softly intertwines your fingers (of course, he asks if he can touch you), then he guves a soft kiss to your cheek or temple.

he's like a dad who cheers up his kids, because he's automatically getting you yout favorite snack.

ice cream? chips? a favorite drink? "let me get it for you."

overall - 9/10, he's very attentive and observant, and carefully judges what you need in the moment. he gets a point off because of his stupid ass jokes.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ HARUKA SAKURA

already 2/10.

i am so sorry, but he is no help whatsoever. he's barely touched anyone until that damn handshake with sugishita (or his constant fighting). him comforting you??? babe your screwed.

even if you tell him in advance that you get overestimulated in certain situations, when the actual problem arises he panics himself. so now there's two panicking people instead of one. that first time, you'd have to help yourself and use your own methods.

however, after that first time, he felt guilty :[, so he quickly ran to kotoha or suo to ask for advice. he genuinely feels horrible that he couldn't help you, so he desperately tries to figure out ways to help you without asking you yourself. that is, until kotoha, suo, nirei, and kiryu were like "why don't you ask?"

he—while thoroughly embarrassed—went to ask you what you need and how to help. and listened intently to you. he's not "letting you suffer like that again."

after asking both is friends and you, he's gotten better at the comfort and helping thing, that doesn't always mean the best.

the first time you didn't feel like being touched and slapped his hand away he felt like his heart break and he got angry. after that, he started asking to touch you.

sakura is god awful at words of encouragement, so he doesn't even try.

he's also, god awful at good hugs, but- he tries to get better.

something he is good at his getting you out of a situation and to a calmer and, or peaceful place. like, he's pushing though people, guiding you the a crowd and getting you comfortable instantly. no time wasted.

he's also good at listening.

he may not provide good advice or words of encouragement, but he is good at nodding along and listening to you cry (he's internally panicking) or talk about how bothered or irritated you are, if you can.

sakura is still very nervous at holding your hand, but he'll try for you, shaky hand and all.

he's also the boyfriend to suggest food when you've calmed down.

overall - 6/10, he gets bumped up a few points because he's at least trying.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ AKIHIKO NIREI

yk that gayass notepad/notebook where he has info on like ... everyone? yeah, he has one of those solely for you. he writes down everything. things he thinks he might forget and things he know he won't, yet he just does.

at the start of your relationship, after hearing about how you tend to get overwhelmed or overestimulated easily, he's jotting that down and asking a million questions on how he can help. if he freaks you out, he immediately sputters out apologizes and notes down what not to do.

of course, that isn't to say he walks on eggshells around you.

he's aware of how you don't want to be treated like a toddler but a person who has a couple of extra needs.

best believe his ass gets overestimulated too.

if you don't already have a sensory bag, he's suggesting you get one and is eagerly helping you figure out what to put in it. if your headphones break, you can have/borrow one of his five pairs of headphones. then he recommends which brand to buy next.

he's dragging you and himself out of overwhelming situations.

sometimes he tries to be tough and shit and then suo is next to him, observing the two of you, and then like- heavily encourages the two of you to leave lmao.

you and him, two peas in a fucking pod 🤞🏾

4 liferssss who share similar sensory issues. no joke, he gets you. he's immediately there to help you and quickly judges what method he could try to help you out.

trust he has some crunchy snack in his pocket to give to you that helps take your mind off of the stressful environment.

he has that sweet little smile on his face and there's clear worry in his eyes, "are you okay? s-should we leave, or?"

this boy is attentive asf to your needs. like, he gets happy from helping you. if you're willing, he gives the tightest comforting hugs. i swear he's so fucking sweet.

overall - 9.5/10. he's attentive and understanding, he gets it and he rushes to action. though, half a point is deducted because he himself can be overestimating at times.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ HAJIME UMEMIYA

umemiya is another person who can be really overestimating, even when trying to help you. however, he is very in tune with your emotions. he makes sure to be able to. hence, he can easily point out when he's doing a bit too much and he tones it down.

umemiya is also a type similar to suo. he's watching you very closely in social settings where a lot of things are going on: sounds, people, etc.

he gets you out.

like, surprisingly, he's very eager to ditch sometimes. especially if its for you, he's out.

he also tells stupid ass jokes; however, they are guaranteed to make you laugh. or at least draw you out of panic and into slight confusion at whatever the hell he said.

"what? am i just that amazing as a comedian i made you speechless?"

that shit makes you roll your eyes at him so much lmfao.

umemiya is a 'i give comfort through hugs' type of person. he is very eager and very willing to give you a hug. if pressure is a way you are able to calm down, he's quickly asking if he can hug you and then gives you biggest, tightest, yet most comforting bear hug ever.

his hugs successfully calm you down. they work every single time.

if that doesn't work, he's at least trying to get you to a calm place or give you something that will help you calm down/distract you.

like, when he starts to notice your typical signs, he's locked in.

full attention on you and mind pondering on what you need. he knows that even a fresh breath of air or a glass of water can help. if you can't immediately leave or anything like that, that is the first thing he does. he grabs you some water and encourages you to drink it.

literally doing everything to help.

the lights bother you? he's covering them with his hands or a jacket. cold? jacket already around you. sleepy? you can rest your head on his shoulder. irritated? let's leave. too much noise? hears your headphones.

if you're the type to be fidgety or mess with cloths and different textures to calm you down, he lets you do it.

whether it be your fingers in his hair, your fingertips rubbing the fabric of his pants or shirt, your hands stroking his, he lets you do anything. if he or something on him can help you, go ahead.

normally, he's quite nonchalant about it. i mean, he knows what to do. this has happened before, its cool.

but the second you start crying, he starts freaking out. he takes a deep breath and kneels before you. his thumbs are quickly wiping your tears and he's speaking to you softly to get to a solution.

"come on, baby. look at me," he coos, "it's okay. i need you to communicate with me."

he's so damn soft and gentle with you. a hand is on your thigh and another on your cheek. "breathe, let's do our breathing exercises, yeah?"

he counts with you, puts your hand or ear to his chest so you can feel or hear his heartbeat. he's always calm and patient in these instances.

and when you calm there's a soft smile on his face with his eyes filled with love. "see, you did it. i told you, you could. good job, baby," he whispers, pressing kisses to the palm of your hand.

umemiya is like your knight in shining armor. he's sweeping you out of a stressful place and to somewhere comfortable. he's grabbing popcorn and skittles, blankets and slippers, and he nearly drags you to the couch so the two of you can sit comfortably and watch a couple of movies and cuddle.

overall - 10/10. the best, i don't exaggerate. you will be calm, and you will feel safe and sound with him.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ JO TOGAME

certified introvert.

trust, this man knows what it feels like to be anxious or irritated around large groups of people. he doesn't quite feel intimidated or upset when it comes to sounds, textures, lights, and stuff. but he does understand that you do and he aims to either avoid the risk of overestimulation (the bad kind), anxiety attacks, etc. or he strives to make sure he can quickly get rid of your problems.

he hates it when your in pain.

like- he'd kill himself for letting you get hurt even if it was something mundane.

he's more for silent or subtle comforting when it comes to you. sometimes he wants to make a scene, sometimes he doesn't. but he's overall a person who doesn't want you to feel embarrassment or be ashamed from him being extra as hell to comfort you.

like a secure hand on your hip, thigh, your hand in his, little kisses, anything to ground you.

he has them big ass pants with those big ass pockets, just know he's carrying necessities for you if your outfit doesn't allow it.

togame just has a face that calms you down. like his eyes, his smile, just looking at him provides a sense of comfort.

he's also a 'stand behind you in the elevator' boyfriend.

in large crowds, one hand is resting on your lower back, guiding you through the people. and if need be, his other hand is grasping yours. the way he treats you, you'd think you were pregnant with his baby or something. this man treats you like fucking royalty, ok?

he talks you through everything.

you start seeming like you're panicking, or if you actively are, he carefully guide you and sits you down, whispering or speaking softly to you.

"sweetheart? i want you to copy me. don't think about anything else, just me. focus on me," he whispers, guiding you through breathing. his hand is holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your skin.

literally the man.

togame is the type to not wait. first sign, "do we need to leave?"

normally, he works at stalls during festivals, right? he invites you to come with him to work, but if you can't he holds no grudge. fireworks or people too loud? that's cool we leave and watch them from afar.

i mean, him being the introvert he is, he doesn't mind missing out on a couple of stuff. please, he's eager to stay inside with you if possible.

tthough, choji's nagging can be annoying.

he's not so much a person to hug you with pressure to calm you, but he offers to cuddle with him. he kisses the top of your head, soothingly rubbing your back.

if someone is clearly bothering you, he quickly steps in.

togame plays no games about you.

overall - 10/10. the man (of my dreams). caring, willing to carry around your shit, doing everything he can to help, he eats. he's the man bro.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ CHOJI TOMIYAMA

0/10, why.

choji tomiyama is a pure extrovert. he comes in bright and loud like the sun. the two of you aren't quite compatible.

just like he's done to togame, he like—drags you out. he's definitely a 'lets get out of the house!' typa guy.

he's an extrovert.

hell, he probably has adhd. i wouldn't be fucking surprised. the boy is a ball of pure unaltered energy. he bounces around with the energy and enthusiam as a child. he'd be luffy if he had the damn gum-gum fruit.

he is not the best at understanding that to some people (you), he is very overestimulating. it not until you force him to sit down and talk with you does he get it through his head. you'd have to nearly punch him to get him to focus. im telling you, he's so bad at it.

but he tries.

this ultimately results in "his light dimming." like- he tones it down so much he holds himself back so he doesn't potentially hurt you. despite how he seems, he is extremely adverse to harming you in any way, shape, or form. he loves you.

this sparks another conversation of, how he doesn't need to hold himself back and that its a you problem.

you'd likely have to explain the things you do to prevent feeling too anxious and stuff, which leads to him being verh enthusiastic about helping you.

choji would of course, do the logical thing, ask if you want to leave or grab headphones, or anything to calm you. but since he learned that he should communicate and try and get to the root of the problem he won't shut up.

he's asking you sixty-dozen questions—all of which is to help you—though that doesn't mean it isn't annoying.

choji is also a person to suggest food.

if he picks up that you're stressed or feeling overwhelmed he's grabbing your wrist and dragging you to closest candy shop or bakery to get some food.

he watches you like a damn hawk when you eat too. that bright expression of curiosity on his face as he hopes you feel better.

(i cant think of anything else)

overall - 4/10. he tries. he really does, but sometimes he's not being helpful, just annoying or overwhelming you more. he himself is overestimulating so, he's not doing much. but he tries!

[parfaitblogs]

¡hola! como estas? you said you were accepting requests? can i request a blurb of spencerxclumsy, anxious reader? in public, she drops something or spills a drink (something like that) and she feels ashamed bc she’s always been made to feel that way. but he helps and reassures her that it’s no matter to anyone? sorry if this is a dumb idea, ha. gracias x

spencer reid x clumsy! reader. fluff/comfort. 0.4k words. 18+ suggestive content at the end. reader is mentioned wearing makeup.

a/n: holaaa! i took spanish up until grade 10 don’t ask me anything else LOL. i wrote this as a fully fledged fic then reread the request and saw you said blurb so i rewrote it like this... is this what a blurb is… guys the last time i posted my writing was on ao3 in 2021 and before that it was 2016 on wattpad so! i don’t know anything about anything! but if you want the full fic then just let me know because i am happy to post it :]

spencer reid who will catch you in the morning when you fall down the stairs –  asking if you're okay, but not pressing when you nod your head, even with the tears blurring your vision that he could see.

spencer reid who walks back to the fast-food joint you went to for lunch, because you dropped the paper bag full of the team's food, and you were, once again on the verge of tears, feeling awful because "that was everyone's lunch!" spencer reid who grabs your arm milliseconds before you slam into a pole to pull you out of the way, chest shaking with laughter as you glared at the inanimate object that got in your way (not the other way around!). spencer reid who helped you pick up and organise all the files you had just scattered all over the police station's floor, then pulled you aside and spent thirty minutes calming you down because “it's okay” and “nobody will even notice”.

then, spencer reid who will stare at you with furrowed eyebrows and a deep frown when you escape from the bar after your fifth and final incident of the day – pushing you over the edge; spilling your drink that rossi had so kindly bought (not that he really had a choice) all over yourself. who will then follow you out after cleaning it up the best he could, and joke with you to distract you from the ache in your heart and the tears streaking down your face, clearing a path through your makeup. who will ask you what's going on in that "beautiful head of yours", and get thoroughly confused when you say you're embarrassed about everything that had happened today. who will call you angel and explain that "embarrassment is caused when we think the self-image we cultivated isn't being received that way anymore", and make you laugh because of course he has an explanation for being embarrassed. 

spencer reid who will reassure you that he isn't making fun of you in his brain if you fall over or spill a drink all over yourself ­­– quite the opposite actually. no, he is instead worrying about the bruise you will no doubt have tomorrow, or the fact that your skin is now sticky and you're probably very uncomfortable. and he tells you that "nothing you do is embarrassing to me" and that "everything you do is endearing. i wish you could see that". so you will just cry harder, which will prompt him to hug you and pepper your forehead with kisses. and then he will take you home (or back to your hotel room), and he will show you every other way he can make you embarrassed, until you're so flustered you can't protest any further.

[milqueandsugar]

🌼☕` Crush, Crush, Soda! ` ☕🌼

Gen / Fluff

Includes / Alastor , Lucifer , Husk

| ALASTOR |

Shock. Horror. Dismay.

Forget wrench this is throwing a hauling truck into his plans

It's very sudden very sharp realization, like getting splashed with cold water

He was obviously aware he had taken to you, how could he not? You were polite, clever and oh so fun to carry a conversation with

Talking to you made radio seem boring!

He was not, however, aware that the other residents had noticed his kinship with you

He had over heard a conversation between Husker and the pink spider demon, where the insectoid sinner complained about how you got special treatment

Husker agreed, which was fair, but then mentioned how Alastor apparently fancied you and that was why

Fucking shock to him and Angel dust

After gripling with that cosmic terror for the night, and visiting Rosie once the clock hit an agreeable hour he had come to the conclusion that despite the impossible, he carried a flame for you

Once he calms down and rearranges his evil vision board to include you in it he lays it on THICK

He's the perfect gentleman, obviously, but he's courting you too so he goes above and beyond

Your chair? Pulled out. Your arm? Linked with his while you stroll. You? The venison steak of his eye baby

| LUCIFER |

Charming comes naturally too him, he won both eve and Lillith over bro he has bublical level rizz

He's very, very comfortable around people he knows or simply doesn't care about, totally normal around Alastor who can kick rocks but a bit antsier and anxious around Charlie

His nerves get worse when he's trying to right himself, he can care very very deeply for someone and never feel nervous around them but the second he does something wrong his anxieties and insecurities come rushing back

He's not subtle, everything he does is flirtatious but in a spur of the moment kind of way he thinks nothing through

Confidence is sexy to him so he tries to show off things he's confident in like inventing/engineering and music!!

The biggest tell he is interested in someone is how excited he is to show off to them, to show how good he could be for them, to show how he betters their life

How he does this depends on you truly, in a rough spot financially? He pays for small things at first, dinner, lunch, something cute you liked at the store then builds to anything you want because you deserve it far more than him or anyone else here

Struggling with control since selling your soul? He puts you in position of power , he shows you what your capable of, what he knows you can do but you don't

He fills your needs faster than you realize you have them, hell is for suffering but it sure does feel like heaven when you're with him

| HUSK |

He's more calculated then the two idiots above, he knows that warmth in his chest when you make his drink, or sit at his bar until he's off or fix an out of place Feather

He's so attracted to you, how real you are, how unapologetically YOU you are, and how you make room for him in everything

He's totally love struck and totally aware of it which makes it even worse

He's doing his best to plan this out while also twirling his whiskers and kicking his feet when talking about you

He's not shy about his feelings but he know being with him is a danger to you, which he can't stand for

He does his best to secure your safety before actively courting you, what's the point of loving someone if you're not putting in the effort, and boy does he put in the EFFORT

Gentlemanly like Alastor but in his own gruff way

Likes to help you do things, teach you how to do things, he likes feeling useful and he likes how you come to him when you have problems

It reminds him a bit of his overlord days, and time with you builds his confidence and back bone back to what it was before Alastor, even if you aren't dating yet

Plays lots of card games with you, won't show you the cheats be knows until your dating, gotta keep you coming back for more yknow?

[hippiegoth97]

Dr. Feelgood: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

Master List

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Description: You meet up with Eddie to buy some weed from him. You've never smoked before, so he helps you get the hang of it. And the effects of the drug make you both very forthcoming about your feelings...

Content Warning 18+ Only: Drug use, swearing, female reader, smut, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, mentions of anxiety/depression and social pressure

Word Count: 5.2k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Dr. Feelgood

You've been so anxious and stressed about your midterms, you spend every waking hour lately studying. Flash cards, note-taking, reading the same vital textbook passages over and over. You know your stuff and are sure to ace everything, but your mind will not quiet down. Constant thoughts of potential failure outnumber everything else. You have so much pressure put on you by your family to do well. You haven't had the highest quality homelife, and have often gone without the things others thought of as a given. You've worked hard through all your years of schooling, trying to prove yourself worthy of something better.

Since your grades were unmatched by anyone in your graduating class at Hawkins High, you'd been awarded all the scholarships and grants you could have dreamed of. Your parents were so proud, but made a point to tell you to not ever let this greatness slip. Because the moment you do, none of your hard work matters anymore. One mistake, and it all ends for you. You know they just want you to succeed, to give yourself better than what they could manage to offer you growing up. Better than what they got from their parents. You can't let them down, let yourself down. Some days these thoughts are so overwhelming, they make your head want to explode.

You need some relief, or you're definitely going to do the one thing you've always been told you can never do. You'll blow it all and fail. You need to give yourself a break. You need something to calm your endless nerves. So you call Eddie Munson, your local dropout drug dealer. When he first picks up, he seems surprised that you even know his number. You'd been given it by a close friend before graduation, you weren't even sure Eddie lives in the same place. But he does, and he's more than happy to do business with you. You agree to meet at the picnic table in the woods behind the high school. His famous selling spot. You dress casual, just wanting to get your weed and get out, and you head on your way.

Eddie makes it to the spot before you, as you find him sitting atop the table. He has his feet on the seat, and his hands are resting in his lap. He hears you approach, looking up at you with a grin. "Well, well, well. You finally made it. You know, you're not very punctual for a bookworm." He hops down to take a proper seat, gesturing for you to join him. "Step into my office."

"Okay." You take a seat across from him, keeping your distance. You don't remember him being so cute before. But his joking nature and overall look seem to be having a special effect on you. You fidget with your hands nervously, not saying anything. You want him to do all the talking, you feel somewhat embarrassed just being here. It isn't like you to do this sort of thing.

"So, what's got you calling me for illicit substances, Y/N?" He looks at you, seemingly at least slightly concerned. He notices your hands, and your leg nervously bouncing up and down. "You know, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can pack up shop and leave right now. We can pretend it never happened." He starts putting his 'goods' back into the lunchbox he brought it in. But you don't want him to leave, you don't want to chicken out. You know you need this.

"No!" You say a bit louder than you mean to. He looks at you cautiously, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I just-" You look down at your hands, unsure how to form the right words. You sense him still staring at you oddly. You meet his gaze again. "I'm just having trouble coping. With school. I'm working on studying for midterms and I know that I know my stuff. I've been testing myself nonstop, for weeks. I can barely sleep, or eat, or think. I just-" You pause. Realizing you're just dropping all this on him when he doesn't need it. He's not your friend, or your boyfriend. He's just here to make some quick cash. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter to you. You aren't here to listen to my problems. But money is no object, I've been saving up from my job at the supermarket. So just give me whatever you recommend, and I'll get out of your hair." You look down again, cheeks burning bright red at your over-sharing.

He must think you're stupid, just another goody goody who can't handle the pressure. You're sure he'll tell all his D&D buddies about it later and they'll have a good laugh. You're holding back tears now, he'll probably laugh in your face if you cry. You sense his weight leaving the table, and he walks around to your side. He sits down beside you, legs facing outward, back leaning against the table. He lifts your chin with his finger to get a look at you. He notices your eyes threatening to let the floodgates open, and he gazes into them kindly.

"It does matter though. I may just be a lowly dropout who deals drugs for money. But I make a habit of hearing who I'm dealing with telling me why they need things from me. I don't want anyone to get hurt, that's not what drugs are for. At least not to me." He smiles gently, no ounce of joking or mocking to be found. "So, please, continue. And don't hide your face anymore, it's too pretty for that." He lets his hand fall away, but you keep your head up. He's waiting attentively to hear the rest of your story. You're taken by his genuine interest in you, what you're saying. You suppose it could be he doesn't want any accidental deaths on his hands. Nothing more.

"Well, I just have myself all amped up over the exams. Like, what if I fail? Then all of my hard work is null and void. I'm just another disappointing member of my broke family. Working dead-end jobs for the rest of my life, struggling to get food on the table. I can't go back to that. I can't let them down, Eddie." You start to sob, tears rushing down your face. He just listens quietly, nodding along. "I can't be what everyone thinks I deserve to be. Always poor, always below everyone, always having less. The world doesn't respect people like that."

You can't talk through your sobs anymore, and they make your body shake violently. You feel sick, stupid, exposed. You move to put your face in your hands, wanting to hide. But Eddie stops you. He takes your hands in his. Eddie's hands are large, warm, and soft. You gasp slightly through the sobs, your palms tingling excitedly at his touch. "Y/N, I am so sorry you feel like this. But I think you've got it all wrong."

"What?" You knit your eyebrows, preparing to yell at him for mocking you. But you wait to see how he explains himself.

He takes notice of your change in face. He shakes his head. "What I mean is, you are the smartest person I know. Fuck it, you're probably the smartest person in Hawkins! I understand the stress and pressure you're feeling, I got that a lot until I was deemed a waste of time."

"Really?" You don't mean to sound doubtful of him, but he doesn't take offense.

"Yes, really. But I think your issue is that you think the whole world is watching, waiting for you to screw up so it can turn on you. But it's not. I also think that because you're the first one in your family to get this far, it's scary. It's unnatural territory. It's okay to be scared, but you can't let the fear overtake you. You'll work yourself sick trying to keep up with unrealistic expectations. I know you'll pass those tests, but even if you didn't, it doesn't matter. At least not as much as you think it does. One failing grade isn't the end. You get far more chances than that. I should know, I used all of mine! You just don't know since you've never failed in your life before. Does that make sense?" He asks. His hands leave yours once your sobs have mostly subsided.

"It does make sense. But it's not that easy to make the thoughts go away. Can you help me quiet them down at least?" You gently place your hand on his thigh. He tenses slightly at your touch, but he puts his hand over yours, squeezing it.

"Sure thing, princess. If anyone deserves some stress relief, it's you." He turns to reach for the lunchbox, dragging it over with his fingers. You figure it's time for you to get ready to pay him, so you reach for your purse. He swats your arm, shaking his head again. "Oh, no. You're not paying today. Consider it a gift from an old friend." He smirks as he portions out some weed for you. He puts it into a plastic baggie, and zips it closed. He hands it out to you. But you realize you have no idea how to use it properly. "What? Are we being picky now, Y/N?" He's genuinely confused.

"No, I-" You feel embarrassed again. "I just haven't done this before. I'm not sure how to, either." He must really think you're stupid this time.

"That's no problem, I can help you." He says matter-of-factly. Eddie places the bag back onto the table, and pulls out some rolling papers from his box. He looks over at you a moment, noticing your burning cheeks again. "Really now, Y/N." He tuts at you. "There's no need to get all flustered and embarrassed about it. Everyone has their first time. Even I did once, a long time ago." He winks at you, focusing again on the task at hand. He opens the bag, and sets to work rolling a blunt for you. When he finishes, he shows it to you with a flourish. "Ta-Dah! Your first blunt!"

"Well done, Munson" You giggle at his theatrics.

He chuckles back, then gets down to business. "Alright, now I'll light it for you and show you how to inhale properly." He gets up onto the table again, sitting cross-legged on one end. He gestures for you to follow suit, and you move to sit in the mirrored position. He lights the blunt, inhaling deeply. He holds the smoke in a moment, smirking at you when he lets it go. You giggle again, taking in how strangely hot he looks doing that. He hands it over to you, and you just copy him. You inhale, and do your best to hold it in. But you end up coughing violently, letting all the smoke out. "Shit, I should've told you to take it easy at first. Sorry 'bout that." He smacks his forehead at his forgetfulness.

"It's fine, it's my own damn fault for trying to dive right in like that." You make a second attempt, gentler this time. You successfully hold it in and release it. Eddie applauds you, making you blush again. You hand the blunt back over to him. You take turns passing it back and forth in silence until it's all burned away. After a short period you start to feel the effects. You feel like you're moving through molasses, like in dreams. Your head is light and airy, your body buzzing. And then you find yourself in a giggle fit. But you can't seem to figure out what's so funny.

Eddie begins laughing too. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a giggler!" He gestures at you, laughing heartily. He leans back, almost falling off the table. You lunge forward to catch him, moving to his end of the table. You just barely grip him by his shirt collar, saving him from the fall. You pull him back into his original position, but you're still gripping his shirt. Your face is very, very close to his. You're both silent now, the only sound is your panting breaths fanning towards one another. You let his shirt go, moving back slightly.

"Almost lost you there, freak." You joke, a quiet laugh shared between you to break the tension.You sit directly in front of him now, your knees touching his. Your eyes are fixed onto his. You reach your hand forward to touch him, and he grabs your wrist.

"Whatcha doin' there, Y/N?" Eddie asks, giving you a curious smile.

"Can I?" You gesture at his face, almost compelled to see what he feels like. He nods, assisting you to caress his cheek. He lets your wrist go, and you continue to touch him. His eyes flutter closed as your hand moves slowly down his jaw, his neck. You stroke his chest over his shirt, and then move to his arms, using your other hand now too. He hums lightly at every move you make, eyes still shut. You move to his ankles, knees, thighs. Your fingertips feel so strange while touching him, but it feels so good you don't want to stop. But he opens his eyes again and stills your movements. You look at him, confused.

"It's your turn now." He says quietly. He reaches forward, touching your face now. Your skin lights up in flames and buzzes as he mirrors all your movements. He reaches your chest, apprehensive to make moves there.

"It's okay, go ahead." You whisper to him. He wastes no time, gently running his fingers along the curves of your breasts, and your own eyes close now. You moan slightly, you've never felt these sensations before. It's like you're flying, but still grounded. He moves to touch your ankles, knees, thighs. His hands stop, laying gently on your thighs. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. He looks different now, feels different. He looks at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"Do you want to keep going? It's okay if it's too weird." He says, not wanting to pressure you.

"It's not weird. It feels really nice. I want to feel more, if that's okay." He nods, leaning his face closer to yours. You lean in as well. Your lips are just a whisper apart. You're both panting again, waiting to see who makes the first move. You decide to be brave and close the gap, pressing your lips gently into his. He kisses you back, his hand reaching behind you to grip your hair. Your hands pull on his shirt collar, yanking him forwards as you lay down on the table.

"Mmm." He grunts as you're moving him with you. Eddie's leaning over you now, his knees on either side of yours. The kissing gets rougher, he bites your bottom lip. You gasp, allowing his tongue to slide in. You moan as he explores your mouth, his hands still tangled in your hair. Every movement, every touch is amplified by your weed-induced state. It's like you're moving in slow motion, each kiss lasting hours. You never want it to end.

"Eddie, everything feels really good. Is that normal?" You ask dumbly.

"Well I would hope so, Y/N. Don't tell me you've never done anything sexual before either!" He teases, smiling down at you. You playfully smack his chest.

"Of course I have, Eddie. I just mean, everything feels...I don't know...just better I guess?" You stumble over your words as they lazily fall from your mouth. It's hard to keep any thoughts straight like this. You find yourself giggling again.

He chuckles slightly. "That's one of the many magical perks of marijuana, doll. Everything is better. Food tastes better, movies are funnier, sex is mindblowing. Emphasis on the last part." He lowers his head down again to start kissing your neck. You moan loudly. It's like he's lighting fireworks on you with his mouth. Your hands go into his hair now, and you can't resist the urge to tug at it a bit. He groans when you do so, looking up at you from where he was working on your neck. "I see you've found one of my weaknesses, princess. Be careful with that information." He grins, before returning to his work. His hands move to grope your breasts, squeezing them roughly. It causes you to moan again. He moves one of his knees between your thighs, grinding it slowly against your clothed core. You're so wet, you're sure he can feel it through all the layers between you.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You whine, feeling so many sensations at once. You swear you could cum just from his current actions. He chuckles into your skin, and nips at you.

"We'll get to that all in good time, Y/N." You laugh at his poor joke. You pull his head up to yours, smashing your lips together again. It's as if your whole body is being boiled alive, and you're desperate for more. You pull away from the kiss again, trying to lift your shirt over your head. He helps you, discarding it into the grass and fallen leaves. The cool air hits your skin, making you gasp. "Too cold?" He asks. You shake your head.

"I couldn't possibly be hotter right now." You sound so needy, becoming embarrassed again.

"Well, I disagree. Just you wait until I'm through with you." He just can't help himself, can he? He lifts you up to reach your bra clasp, undoing it with ease. The bra falls down your shoulders, and you toss it away. He takes a moment to get a good look at the view of you topless. Your tits are at attention, your nipples hard in the cold air. His breath hitches at the sight. "Goddamn, you look so gorgeous like this. You have amazing tits by the way." He leans down and starts on your neck again, using a hand to massage your left breast. You moan his name. His lips slip down your neck and chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the way. He licks the valley between your breasts, then nibbles the skin. He moves to your right one, taking the hardened bud into his mouth.

"Jesus fucking Christ, everything feels so good. Too fucking good." Your breath is fast and hot, your body reacting to every touch to an unbearable degree. His knee is still working your core through your jeans, making you so unbelievably wet. You tug his hair again, wanting to get some reaction from him. He groans loudly even with his mouth working on your tits. You realize Eddie still has all of his clothes on. You push him off of you gently. "You're overdressed, baby." He sits upright, pulling his shirt over his head. You take a moment to look him over. His tattoos, toned chest, and the simple necklace make your eyes widen with lust. "You look so beautiful, Eddie. I hope that's not weird to say."

"Not at all, darling. I pride myself on lookin pretty." He smirks, still upright. You reach up to pull him back down to you, and you run your hands up and down his chest. He groans when you drag your nails down it, leaving red marks along the way. "Careful with the claws, babe." Your arms reach onto his back, scratching him again. He moans even louder. "Fuck, you really like pushing my buttons, don't you? You're playing with fire, exploiting my weaknesses like this."

"I guess it's just nice to know you have them." You reply, smiling up at him. A mischievous grin forms on his face.

"Well I'm sure you have plenty too. I mean, you've already been pretty vocal so far. Sounds like I don't have to do much to make you come undone." He says, his tone laced with danger. You lay here silently, realizing what you've gotten yourself into. He gets off of you, and stands in the grass next to the table. "Move to the edge of the table, love." He says plainly. Like an order.

"Okay." You obey instantly, sitting at the edge, legs dangling over. He stands between your thighs, putting his hands on your waist. He kisses you softly, leaning you both so you lay down. Once you are, he stands up straight again, moving his hands to your thighs. He squeezes the flesh roughly, rubbing his clothed erection against your core. "Fuck." You mutter as you watch him.

"Let's get you fully undressed, shall we?" He slips your sneakers off, and your socks. He undoes your jeans, pulling them off roughly. You're only in your underwear now, feeling very exposed again. He brings a hand up to slowly stroke your heat through your panties, the wetness you've built up seeping through the thin fabric. "Mmm, you're so wet. Is that all for me?" He asks as moans fall repeatedly from your lips. He pulls your underwear off, putting them in his pocket. You open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you. "I'll consider them a gift from an old friend." He chuckles, taking a moment to drink all of you in. Your shocked face, your perfect tits, your beautiful legs. His gaze falls on your pussy, and he can't help but stare. You're so wet and shiny for him, dripping slowly onto the crisp leaves below.

"See something you like?" You slyly question him. He meets your gaze with lust-filled eyes. He doesn't reply, only nodding. He drops to his knees in front of you, gripping your thighs again. He kisses his way from your left knee to just before the spot where you need him most. You moan when his lips meet your inner thigh. He continues on the other side, teasing you with his pace. He's directly in front of your pussy now, his warm breath fanning over it. "Eddie, please don't tease anymore. I need you." You plead. He responds by licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. "Fuck!" You practically scream. Eddie takes your curses as fuel to the fire. He licks your bundle of nerves ferociously, like the man is having his last meal. He inserts two fingers into you, pumping in and out at a punishing pace. You keep involuntarily bucking your hips off the table, causing Eddie to grip you tighter in place. His tongue and fingers work you over. Curses, moans, and Eddie's name spill from your mouth like a mantra. He's got you under his spell, and he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

"You taste so good, Y/N. So fucking sweet." Eddie says breathlessly. He resumes his work on you, tying the knot in your belly tighter and tighter with every stroke and lick. He worries his teeth on you gently, causing you to gasp. You're so close you can't stand it.

"Fuck, Eddie! Please, right there! Make me cum, I'm so close!" You cry out to him, desperately asking for release.

"That's my good girl. Make a mess for me. Cum on my face." He says just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. You feel the knot snap, and you swear you've been shot into outer space. Your legs shake violently, and you feel yourself dripping onto Eddie's face. He licks up every last drop he can, causing your cunt to spark as your high subsides. He finally gives you a break, standing up to look in your fucked-out eyes. "Fuck, Y/N. You are so unbelievably hot." He leans over you, pressing a kiss into your lips. You moan as you taste yourself on him. He stands again, bringing the fingers he used on you to his mouth, sucking them clean while staring at you.

"It's your turn now." You slide off the table, kneeling before him. You grasp his belt, using it to pull him closer. He assists you in undoing it, and you pull his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks his shoes off, and tosses his socks away. He steps out of his jeans, leaving him just in his boxers. You reach up and palm him through the thin material, causing him to moan. You pull his underwear off, letting his cock spring free. You waste no time taking it in your hand. You stroke Eddie slowly, before licking the tip in circles.

"Shit, Y/N." Eddie gasps, letting his hand fall to your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. You take as much of him in your mouth as you can, swirling your tongue as you move back and forth on him. He lets out moans and curses frequently as you work him.

"Mmm." You hum around him to rev him up further. You drag your nails up and down his thighs, leaving light red marks behind. He falters, his other hand gripping the table behind you. He's breathing heavily, you look up at him. He looks so gorgeous like this, a light sheen of sweat on his skin, mouth agape, eyes screwed shut. He opens them briefly to look down at you, smirking again.

"It feels so good, Y/N." He breathes out. "Keep going, I'm almost there." You nod at him, picking up the pace. He moans again as you pump him mercilessly, gagging yourself as he hits the back of your throat. "Jesus, fuck." He chokes out, falling off the edge. You feel his release spilling into your mouth, making sure to swallow every drop. You release him with a pop, smiling up at him. "My, my. You're a master at giving head, darling." He offers his hand to help you stand up. Then he grabs you by the waist, lifting you onto the table. His lips attack yours, his hands roam all over your body. Eddie moves his mouth to latch on your neck again, you cry out when he bites you roughly.

"Christ, Eddie. I'm not a chew toy." You sigh contentedly. "Feels pretty fucking good, though." He responds by biting the other side of your neck. You gasp, digging your nails into his back. He stops to look in your eyes again.

"The weed will wear off soon, we should move this along." He lets you go, climbing back on the table. You turn around to see what he's got in mind. He lays down, motioning for you to come to him. "Come here and ride me, princess." You go to him, positioning yourself just below his cock. You lean down to kiss his neck now, leaving plenty of hickies on him. He moans loudly when you bite down on the skin. You lift yourself to your knees, taking his length in your hand. You move his cock slowly back and forth against your folds, causing both of you to whine. You look down at him, grinning as you sink down onto his dick.

"Fuck, Eddie. You feel so good inside me." You start to bounce gently on him, moaning his name over and over as he fills you to the brim. He's the perfect size to hit your g spot each time you come down on him. He grips your tits with his hands, squeezing them roughly, teasing your nipples between his fingers. Your moans grow in volume, and the sound of your skin slapping together echoes through the woods.

"You're doing so good, Y/N. You take my cock so well." He says, low on breath. You're both slicked with sweat, which makes the slapping even louder. He lets go of your tits to squeeze your ass. He moves you into a new angle in his grip. You practically scream as your g spot is being hit harder and better than before. Eddie also makes a point to thrust himself up into you occasionally, your moans catching in your throat.

"F-uck."You roll your hips as you ride him into oblivion. You sense another orgasm coming on. Waves of pleasure crash over you, building to a hurricane. Your pussy starts to clench around him involuntarily, and Eddie can tell how close you are. He moves a hand to rub your clit in gentle circles, making the waves crash harder over you.

"Keep going, darling. I'm close, too. Cum for me." He rubs your clit rougher now, and you feel the tropical storm overtake you.

"Oh, fuck! Eddie!" You scream, juices leaking out of you and onto his stomach. Your cunt clamps down on his length, which makes him groan as his own release overcomes him. Eddie's load spills into you as you keep riding him through your high. Your orgasm subsides, and you collapse onto him, still seated on his dick. You're both breathing heavily, and you can hear Eddie's heart pounding in his chest. His arms wrap around you, and he kisses the top of your head.

"You look so pretty when you cum, Y/N. Wish I got a picture of that."

"You can have one next time." You reply, not fully realizing what you just said until the words have left your mouth.

"Next time, huh?" He questions. Your cheeks burn as you realize he probably doesn't want to see you again. Why would he? You're nothing special. "It's a date." He says, and you sit up to look at him.

"You really want to see me again?" You're in disbelief, thinking this might be the joke now.

"You don't have to act so surprised, Y/N. I like you, and clearly you like me too. Now, maybe we should continue this conversation when I'm not still inside you. How's that sound?"

"Okay." You say quietly, feeling rather silly. You lift yourself off of him, your mixed release pouring out of you and onto Eddie's cock. You both look at it in lustful shock. You lean down to lick it all up, not leaving a single drop behind. Eddie watches you with wide eyes, and you just smirk at him.

"Jesus, Y/N. You just keep getting sexier by the minute." He pulls you into him again, kissing you passionately. He groans at the taste on your lips. You break the kiss, hopping off the table to gather your clothes. You hand him his, and you both dress quietly. Once you're fully clothed, you sit back down at the table. He's sitting with his legs outward again, and you're positioned sideways on his lap. You both playfully rub each other's arms and legs, sharing kisses and giggling. The weed has worn off now, and you wonder if that's all this was. But you still feel a fire burning inside you for Eddie. You're just worried he doesn't have one for you.

"Are you sure you like me, Eddie? It's okay if you don't." You look down at your lap, afraid of what he might say now that he's sober.

He lifts your face to look at him again, looking deep into your eyes. "I can tell you right now Y/N, I really like you. And I'm not one to lie. I get that you're worried about it just being the drugs, I can't say I wasn't either. But I want to be with you, high or not."

You don't say anything else, you just grab his face, pressing your lips onto his again. He returns the kiss, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

The end.

[creedslove]

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: anon, my beautiful bestie, you are a genius!!! I love you and your idea! This is incredible ❤️

• when you and Joel started dating, you felt as if you'd won the lottery, literally, because you couldn't believe a man like him would settle with you

• you were a beautiful woman with a lot of qualities but Joel was just... Something else

• he was so handsome and sexy, you didn't remember seeing a man, a real life man being that hot, with the exception of celebrities of course, but Joel was real, and he was yours

• not to mention his other great qualities, such as a hardworking man, a great father, a protective person... He was everything you'd ever dreamed of, and you still were starstruck and simply couldn't believe how lucky you got

• there was also the age gap, which meant Joel was older than you, but unlike popular assumption, it didn't bother either of you, it was fine if he was older, you even liked it, as it was kinda hot to you, and Joel didn't mind the fact you were younger, he loved you for who you were, so your age or your looks were irrelevant

• and even if the age gap didn't actually bother you, it still made you feel insecure; especially because you were always anxious and scared that some day Joel would find a woman closer to him in age, a woman who would actually share the same interests and steal him from you

• most days you could actually hide it, pretend that feeling wasn't haunting you whenever you found yourself and Joel around beautiful, mature women, but there was something about Tess that made you lose your shit

• she liked Joel, you knew it, and you were pretty sure something happened between them at some point, but what seemed to have been just an important affair to him, was definitely more intense to her; that was the only explanation why she still made everything at her power to flirt with and seduce him

• you hated her, you hated how she simply pretended you didn't exist in order to come and talk to Joel batting her eyes at him and displaying wide smiles, or how she laughed too hard at his jokes, because let's face it, Joel isn't that funny, or she always touched his arms for no reason

• and she was also closer to him in age, and even if you were petty and you didn't deny it and to you Tess was an ugly cunt, you'd heard some people saying she was a beautiful woman and that made you very insecure

• because not only was she more suitable to him in that matter, but she was also very similar to Joel, they liked horses, they were tough, and she drank like a man, which made you afraid one day Joel could simply get tired of playing dating with you and go after her

• it all happened when you and Joel decided to go out to eat for no reason, it was a regular wednesday evening, but he felt like spending some time with you, and perhaps taking you out for a steak and some pasta was a good way to show you he'd missed you during the day, which you quickly said yes

• you were so happy and excited to go out with him, Joel looked so handsome with his hair slicked back and his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, you would let him take you right there and then on that table for anyone to see if he wanted to, but before you both continue your date night, you saw a female hand on his shoulder

"oh my god, Joel, hi!"

• Tess said with such enthusiasm it could only have been fake; she grinned at him and completely ignored your presence, Joel felt embarrassed at her exaggerated reaction and cleared his throat, you didn't say anything and simply got up, going to the restroom and tried controlling your anger and jealousy

• when you came back, Tess was nowhere to be seen, but you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about her, you hated how she looked at Joel, how she desired him in front of everyone and didn't even bother hiding it, you hated how other women did the same, staring and glancing down at your man, to the point it made you so upset you felt empty for a while

• so the rest of dinner was awkward, as you were pretty much on autopilot, barely replying to Joel's questions and words and only focusing on your food and nothing else; you didn't know why it made you feel like that, but it did and it was so odd as if you were trying to push him away

• Joel knew something was up, you were pretty much ignoring him and pretending he wasn't at the table with you, and that hurt and annoyed him, however, he knew he couldn't get any information from you, so he waited until dinner was over

• then, you both went back to his place, you were still silent for most of the time and monosyllabic towards him, even when he placed his hand on your knee and went up a little much to your thigh, you didn't react very much

• once you both got inside, he didn't wait before gripping your waist and pressing you against the wall, seeing you couldn't resist him, as you kissed him back, claiming him as yours as your hands began unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to undress him once for all

• until he held your hands in place and made you stop: he wasn't going to do anything if you didn't tell him what the heck was going on and you knew he meant business, so you sighed and looked down, feeling embarrassed and ashamed of your feelings, but you decided to open up

• you told him about your insecurities, about how you thought he wasn't going to take you seriously because you were sure some day he'd find a better woman for himself, how you feared losing him, and how you hated Tess and the way she behaved towards him all the time

• and Joel's eyes went so soft, the way he was caught off guard by your confession but immediately understood what was up with you and he felt relieved to know you were just insecure, relieved to see the problem wasn't him, that it wasn't because you didn't love him anymore or because you didn't want to be with him, but rather because you were afraid of losing him

• and at that, he knew he had to do something and come forward and tell you his feelings and let you know how he felt

"that's madness, honey... I love you and I'd never want another woman, you are mine, I ain't never giving you up, one day you'll be my wife, mark my words"

• he whispered against your lips, reassuring you of his feelings, nothing could come between you, not after you both came clean about your feelings, seeing you loved each other 💕

____

[aurossaga]

Doubts cloud my Judgement

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word count: ~ 1.5k

Warnings: Alcohol mention

Summary: Learning to be vulnerable is no small task, even if it's for the ones you love.

The winds whip to and fro in the night, the steady rustle of the leaves quietly dulling the city’s noise. It was almost as if the air itself was feeling agitated, restless, almost anxious, and knew no other way to handle it but to tug and pull at the branches of trees, to wear at the city walls.

You were surprised when you stepped out onto the tavern’s balcony yourself. The winds in the city were always gentle in the past... Though, that thought did not occupy your mind for very long. You only adjusted your clothing in place, bracing yourself against the moderate winds as you looked around yourself… You were sure you’d seen the life of the party back downstairs disappear though this door earlier, and his absence was feeding a growing unease within you. Of course, it wasn’t very surprising that he’d managed to slip through your grasp yet again, he seemed to have a talent for that.

You have known Venti for quite some time now. A chance meeting in the plaza quickly grew into a well-maintained friendship, and you had fallen for him hard somewhere along those months you’d spent drifting in and out of each other’s lives. You know so much about him, all the way from his preferences in drinks to mindless thoughts on meaningless matters that reveal themselves in casual conversations… And the more you learnt about him, the more sure you were that you didn’t know the bard at all.

Venti doesn’t strike anyone as the type of guy to keep anyone at a distance like that, and at first, you were willing to believe so too. But the better you got to know him, the more he withdrew. The better you got at finishing his sentences, the less he started them at all. He’d smile, nod, encourage you to talk instead, keeping his cards close to this chest and his heart tucked away for reasons you couldn’t comprehend. That ends tonight, you decided. Weeks of this unexplained distance was starting to bother you.

Your eyes traced the steady-looking vines climbing the walls of the tavern’s exterior. Your brows furrowed as the insanity of the idea crossed your mind. You didn’t exactly have any other means of ascending the building, and if you knew that bard even half as well as you think you do, he’s sure to be up there on the roof. Still, you could fall. And it would hurt.

…

Yeah, like that was actually going to stop you.

You braced yourself as you grabbed onto the vines with your hands, and slowly hosted yourself up just a few feet from the ground to test the waters. When you found that the vines held your weight remarkably well, you started pulling yourself up, grabbing hold and steadily climbing the building. With a huff you were able to pull yourself up onto the roof, the familiar sight of terracotta tiles filling your view… And sat in the middle of the slanted roof was Venti, with his back turned to you, uncharacteristically absentminded. The sound of your steps didn’t register until you’re right by his side, at which point he jumped slightly, the reaction so small you could see how anyone else might have missed it.

“O-oh, Hello, friend! In need of some fresh air too, I presume?”

There was something about his tone that felt so…unsure. Like even he wasn’t buying his own guise anymore. And yet, he tried foolishly to keep it up, knowing very well it wasn’t getting by either of you. Curious.

“...Yeah. Do you mind if I sit for a bit?”

You decided to entertain it for a moment in an attempt at disarming the suddenly tense atmosphere. Venti’s shoulders sank in resignation as he realized this night could end one of two ways… And he wasn’t quite sure which outcome he feared more. Letting you in or shutting you out for good.

“Not at all.”

You sat down next to him, giving him a bit of space just for comfort’s sake. Venti noted your distance with a curious hum, his gaze finally rising from the red roof tiles to look in your direction. He held your gaze for only a moment before he averted his eyes again, clearing his throat nervously. The winds tug at your clothes as gusts crash against you.

“...Venti-”

“I don’t-”

You both spoke at the same time, cutting each other off. In any other situation you would have had a laugh at that… But tonight, not as much as an amused snicker, even.

“How did things get so weird between us, Venti?”

Your unsteady voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the gales. You looked down at your trembling hands, unsure if it was the nerves or the cold that had gotten to you. You didn’t get much time to ponder it before the bard next to you let out a huff, scooted closer and placed his hand over your trembling ones.

“Everything’s fine, my friend. Everything’s alright.”

His tone wasn’t one bit convincing as he flashed you a smile you didn’t believe for a second.

“Please. Just… give me an actual answer.”

His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly as he tensed up. You could feel the way his breath hitched on the winds, the way they shifted directions for a moment. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered his next words very carefully, trying and failing several times over to find a way out of this confrontation. But, there was none.

“You know me so well it scares me.”

You weren’t expecting that. A part of you had worried he had figured out your feelings, and was looking for a way out of the friendship. Another was growing concerned he simply got bored of you. You… Did not expect to learn just how frightened he was by your shared bond.

“...Wait, what do you-”

His grip on your hand fastened ever so slightly, and caused you to hesitate. Your eyes drifted up to his figure, hunched over himself as he looked anywhere but right at you. A brief flash of panic crossed his pensive expression as you untangled your hand from his, but was quickly pacified as you reached up and brushed a strand of his hair out of his eyes. Finally, he looked at you properly.

“Venti, my dear… Can I ask you a question?”

You pleaded with a disarming smile.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

Venti stammered, his usual effortless confidence completely discarded. It was as if he realized trying to salvage that image was like fighting a losing battle.

“... What is it you’re scared of showing me?”

He went silent after that, his eyes narrowed as his nose scrunched up into a thoughtful expression. He had been mulling over that question many times the past few weeks, but he never found a satisfactory answer. He had spent many nights awake trying to determine what it was about you that he had suddenly grown so fearful of, enough to outweigh the joy he felt in your company. And only now as he stared into your endlessly patient eyes did he realize what it was. Venti didn’t give you a verbal answer, no… He did something you weren’t quite expecting. He pinched his eyes shut with a sigh, and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

You had never seen him be this vulnerable before. His boisterous persona and endless charm often gave people a very different idea of who he was, and you had long ago figured out the man beneath the surface was much softer, much more delicate than he’d ever intended to show you. Still, this was a shot in the dark for him. You could tell how tense he was, his shoulders rigid, his expression strained, his hands fidgeting with the frilly hems of his sleeves… He was so painfully uncomfortable with this expression of vulnerability, and yet he was trying.

You didn’t waste another second before you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a firm, loving hug. You heard him gasp slightly as his eyes blew wide, but he didn’t fight it. You huffed in relief, your hands slowly rubbing comforting patterns into the tense muscles on his back. The familiar scent of fresh breeze and cecilias that always seem to cling to him filled your nostrils as you embraced him tightly. It took him a few seconds to even register what was happening, almost in disbelief at the course of this wordless conversation.

Slowly, with an uncertainty that was utterly unfamiliar to him, Venti embraced you back. His grip was weak at first, but then he suddenly squeezed you close as if you’d disappear if he let go. His shallow breaths trembled as he fought to keep his composure.

“You deserve to be cared about, Venti. Please… let me. Don’t push me away.”

Your own voice quivered as emotions started running high. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that had you at the brink of tears, but holding back the sobs only got harder and harder… Until you heard Venti sigh. And you felt tears on your shoulder. So you gave in trying to hold back too.

The winds around you calmed as the dawn broke on the horizon, the two of you desperately clinging onto each other all the while. Things would be different from now on, but Venti’s heart already felt light with relief after that night.

Hey everyone! It's been a minute since my last post... oops!

My point is though I love this guy to death and don't plan to stop writing for him altogether, I'm taking a bit of a Genshin break! I've been running out of inspiration for Venti fics and mostly just rotate him around in my head for hours on end haha

So! You can expect some stuff from other fandoms going forward. I'll make a pinned post about that once I've gotten everything sorted. There will be more Venti fics again in the future though, so don't be discouraged!

Thank you for reading as always! :3

[oneshlut]

Overjoyed (Dr. Flug x Reader) [Headcanons]

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Summary: General Dr. Flug crushing and confessing headcanons

VERY rarely experiences love. This is very new to him, so he will NOT recognize it the first few months he has a crush

Will think of you as a really close friend! At least, he thinks so. He may get a bit more insecure because he thinks you're a better person than him

If you treat him like a normal person and like.. don't bully him??-- He will get attached. I don't think he's recieved affection in a hot minute

You, overall as a person, fascinate him. How can someone be so kind, smart, witty, good-looking (in a totally platonic way), AND care for him? Part of him thinks you're not real. Don't worry, he just hasn't experienced love that often to know what admiration is

He doesn't understand why he gets so nervous around you. He's not scared of you at all, not like he is around Blackhat--you were, in fact, the opposite of him. So why was he getting all fidgety and jumpy around you? It didn't make sense how he could feel so comfortable around a person, yet still feel so anxious all the while

Over time, he becomes a bit protective over you without really knowing it. He'll push you out of his lab when he's doing a dangerous experiment, or will give you the easiest job on missions (besides 5.0.5.'s). He tries to refrain himself from acting this way sometimes, he doesn't want you to feel like you're incompetent in any way--all his intention was to keep you safe! And now he's spiraling because he doesn't know why he feels so protective over you

Sometimes you'll compliment him, and he feels as if Blackhat himself just told him he did a great job on a mission. Except, this time his heart was beating faster, his palms were more sweaty than usual, it felt stuffy inside his mask, and-- ..Goddammit, why is he getting so nervous again?? He then realizes he hasn't responded to you yet, and mutters a small 'thank you' that made him sound a lot less confident he wished he could've sounded

Eventually, he got sick of it. He needed to find out what the hell was going on. So imagine his mini panic attack when he googles 'why is my heart beating so fast', and Google tells him his heart is failing

It's not like he doesn't know what love is, no, far from it. He's seen his average romcoms (and hated them), he knows what love should be like. Hell, he knows the entire chemical formula for the damn feeling. He was just never able to understand what others felt when they said they were 'in love'. Until now.

For him, it was unbelievably weird to have his heart race for someone that wasn't out of fear. Honestly, he.. liked the feeling. If it weren't for how he reacted to it.

Dr. Flug wasn't this nervous around you before. Normally, not at all. When you hung out at his lab, he would ramble on and on about his inventions, only checking in every few minutes to make sure you weren't getting bored of him or anything. But now, knowing his feelings for you, he feels horribly nervous around you. This affects every little thing he does, and he hates it.

When you hang out with Flug now, he realizes how truly lucky he is for you to even do more than just glance over him. Him? Why him? Why not spend your time with anyone else..?

Then he realizes you actually care about him. His existence. He isn't.. invisible to you. And suddenly he's over the moon.

Right--about the way Flug acts around you. Every conversation you have with him suddenly has this weird air around it. You could tell he was more nervous than.. well, usual, but whenever you asked he just waved it off as some upcoming mission or invention he still had to work on. You'd normally decide not to dwell on it too much.

On his end, he thought he was doing everything horribly wrong in front of you. "Catch you on the flip side"??? When has he ever said something like that?! Not to mention his stammering practically increased by 5 times its normal amount, as he was fumbling over most words in every single sentence he dared mutter around you. If he wasn't talking, he was tripping over his untied shoelaces (he almost always had them tied, god, what happened to his schedule-?) or spilling some important chemical all over his workspace.

Overall, he was more fidgety than normal, and he hated it. It made him want to tear his bag out. Why couldn't he just be normal around you? Now he's just worse than he ever was. All his attempts of impressing you were down the drain at this point. But at least he hasn't completely drawn you away--I mean, you still liked hanging out with him! At least, he thinks you like spending time with him.. Part of him is still just the slightest bit insecure.

His worry for you has increased when you go on missions with him now. Part of him wants to just keep you in the hat ship so you don't get involved in something messy, but he knows that would be unfair for you. Flug just worries about you getting hurt, is all. He tries to focus on you a bit more during missions to make sure you're doing alright, but sometimes this just causes him to fuck up even more in front of you. Way to go, Flug. He suddenly feels as if his engineering and villainy PhDs didn't really do that much for him in the long run.

As we all know, Dr. Flug is far from someone to act on feelings. He acts on his logic, most of the time at least. With this in mind, he is the last person you'd think of as someone who would confess their feelings to someone. In all honesty, even if he did muster up the courage to try, he would pass out on the spot. So, he just tries to wait it out until this crush subsides. Spoiler alert: it doesn't!

Right, right--so, since he probably won't ever come clean about his feelings to you, you'll probably eventually just have to confess yourself. Unless Flug slips up one day and accidentally says he loves you in one of his long-winded rambles, in which would make a very awkward situation.

Under the circumstances that you do confess to him first, he.. well, Flug won't believe you at first. You've probably just gotten yourself mixed in with one of Demencia's pranks. A bit cruel, but nothing he couldn't handle. He will have to talk to Demencia later though, she's been getting on his nerves lately.. And besides, the whole spiel of you actually liking him, caring for him, and wanting to be with him? Yeah, okay.

So he laughs. And then he realizes you're serious. Oh. You're serious.. Oh.

Ohhhhhh crap. Okay! So you like him. It was.. It didn't feel real. But it was. And now that same feeling came back to him, the one where he feels his hands getting sweatier, his bag getting stuffier, and.. a new symptom. His legs turned flimsy, and could now just barely hold his body. He leaned onto his desk for support. If only he could see how red his bag was at the time.

And yes, you were able to calm him down, but even as the day progressed, Flug still couldn't swallow the situation. He laid in his bed unmoving, still, and.. awake. He couldn't get his mind off of anything that had happened that afternoon. He's probably pinched himself at least 6 times now, making sure he wasn't just dreaming or anything. After the 7th pinch.. yep, he wasn't.

Eventually, this surprise faded away into another new emotion.

Overjoyed.

[munariplans]

cowboy like me | felicia hardy

synopsis: inspired by taylor swift’s 'cowboy like me', for the black cat, felicia hardy.

felicia hardy x reader

word count: 3.1k words

a/n: trying to branch out into new characters in the mcu, and black cat has always been one of my favourites. hope you guys enjoy x

and the tennis court was covered up, with some tent-like thing and you asked me to dance, but i said, "dancing is a dangerous game"

in the years you have orbited your life around taking from the rich, you knew that felicia hardy was never one to be trusted. she was a con artist, a professional thief, been in the game longer than you were. you could never take her words seriously. 

now, the both of you sitting in the wedding of a millionaire you had robbed dry several times before, 

overlooking the stunning views of the manhattan skyline and the contents of the fellow wedding guests’ wallets in your pockets, you were repeating the very same sentence you always told yourself whenever felicia tried distracting you. don’t let her even try. 

“come on, let’s dance,” she whined for the umpteenth time. she had taken her prized jewels, you took your fancy watches. the one-off agreement of the pact you had made to work together just a month ago had been occurring more frequently lately, and it was sending you a bit on edge, to be honest. 

“for what, felicia?” 

she pouted, rolling over to absentmindedly trace her hands along your suit. you pulled her away. “it’s sunset, it’s the asshole’s wedding, it’s romantic.”

“yeah, but we are not lovers,” you quipped, sitting straighter to get a better look at the sunset she mentioned. new york really had the best sunsets. “and dancing is a dangerous game for us to play.”

“scared of catching feelings for me?”

you flicked your nimble fingers on her forehead, as felicia yelped. “never, black cat.”

oh, i thought, this is gonna be one of those things now, i know, i'm never gonna love again

you never should have taken her hand. you never should have accepted the dance with her. you should have known it was not going to end well. 

yet, with felicia’s body flushed against yours, her lips dangerously travelling up and down your neck, hands roaming the lithe muscles on your body, you found it difficult to resist such advances from the woman. 

when her lips met yours that night, you knew the watches you had kept in the slit of your own dress was taken, along with your heart, too. 

that was years ago. now, you knew you were never going to love anyone like you loved her, ever again. 

i’ve got some tricks up my sleeve, takes one to know one you're a cowboy like me

“feliciaaaa!” you screamed after her, chasing her through midtown as her laughter rang in your ears and the jewels and watches she had taken dancing in her priceless designer bag. 

she had conned you once again. this time, she had tried out a new method; seduction.

yet, you found yourself still smiling as you caught up to her later, tying her down while you took off with her jewels this time. it was her turn to cuss you out for being able to spot when she was tired, and where her weaknesses were. 

never wanted love, just a fancy car

the jewels rested beautifully on the curve of your collarbones as you slung your arm around the new billionaire you had conned to take you home for the night. he was grinning stupidly, you were grinning in victory, as he took you in to his ferrari, carefully revving the engine and driving so fast you thought your heart was going to stop. 

you never needed anyone else. just the company of older, rich men, their riches, and yourself was enough. you could live forever like this. 

now I'm waiting by the phone, like i'm sitting in an airport bar you had some tricks up your sleeve, takes one to know one

“just dinner at her place. dinner. nothing more,” you nervously repeated to yourself, pacing around felicia’s apartment block. flowers in hand, waiting for her call, you hated how she suddenly made you feel anxious about your actions, and how you were going to act around her. 

“come up, will you?” you heard a voice from the balcony, and shot your head up in horror. “i’ve been watching you pace back and forth for the past ten minutes.” 

felicia stood by the door as you came, in a short dress that definitely was not usually worn for a simple dinner at her place. the black accentuated her features, one of the rare few times you had caught her without her hair tied in a ponytail, clear goggles around her eyes. 

“you look…pretty,” you breathed. she laughed, almost mockingly at you. 

“thanks,” she nodded towards the flowers, “those for me?” 

“of course.” 

you handed them over, and as felicia took one whiff of them, she spotted something just within. hidden in plain sight of the stalks of roses. 

the jewels you had stolen from her that one heist. returned to its “rightful” owner. 

felicia’s heart tugged with warmth, as she looked back up at you, before pulling you in for a kiss on your cheek. 

“thieves’ honour.” 

“takes one to know one.” 

you're a cowboy like me, perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

the black cat’s finger outstretched, she was pointing at the man trying to strike up conversation with the owner of the art gallery. you recognised him as a private investor you had swindled once before. 

“won’t work on him again,” you replied to her suggestion, turning your gaze to a woman standing by herself instead, overlooking the balcony. her hair was blonde like felicia’s, and she looked no older than you were by a few years. felicia also noticed that she was undeniably good-looking. 

“no,” she said sharply, fingers directing your chin back to face her, “you’re not doing her.”

a hint of a smirk made it’s way up to your lips. “jealous, hardy?”

“and if i say i am?”

“then i’ll know you’re lying,” you held her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle, before making your way over to the woman, “i don’t mean enough for you to get jealous.”

felicia bit her lip at your comment. that wasn’t true. silently, under her breath she whispered, “you are all that, and more.”

like it could be love, it could be the way forward only if they pay for it

“and to what i owe the pleasure of your company tonight?” the very same woman said into the dark, her chest still heaving with heavy breaths and the marks of your teeth left on them. the room smelled of sex and deceit, as you began picking up your clothes, her jewellery and the details to the vault of her private art collection already slipped inside.

you smirked, sneaking back a look at the naked woman staring at you with lust-hooded eyes. she really did look a little like felicia. didn’t feel like her, though. you rarely ever slept with the people you swindle now, not since you had started seeing felicia casually. you wondered if felicia had begun making a deeper impact in your life than you thought she would. 

“...and what would be the price for more…company?” the woman had gotten up then, huskily whispering in your ear, her arms encircling your waist to try to bring you back to bed. 

but you had already gotten more than you needed. you were no longer interested in her anymore. 

“i’ll text you my bank details if you want more of this…anytime…anywhere.”

you called felicia later on that night, and you swore you enjoyed yourself more in the few hours the both of you spent plotting on the art vault’s robbery, than the whole night in the company of another woman. 

you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars, hustling for the good life never thought i'd meet you here

felicia had fallen asleep in your dining room, one knee lifted up on your dining chair to support the weight of her head and arms as it lolled forward, her soft snores filling the silence of the room. blueprints of the vault were carefully laid across your large dining table, the both of you had spent the better part of the week plotting and scrawling across plans on stealing the works inside. 

you were laid back in your own chair, taking a swig of the expensive wine she had bought to thank you for giving her the opportunity to join you in the heist, and swimming beyond the maroon that was sliding down your throat, you thought of her.

felicia hardy, the black cat. the daughter of the former black cat, who she told you taught her to never settle for second-best. who worked harder than anyone you knew to get what she wanted. who was slowly taking up a space in your heart that no one else ever had. 

all that she had been through, the hardships she had endured that mirrored your own, she knew you like no other. she understood, and she never judged. she was just as hungry as you were for success. you just never thought that you could get along, much less fall for her, in your stupid, stupid quest to hustle for a better life for yourself. 

she was trouble. but in that moment, she was nothing more than felicia hardy, not the black cat, not the thief she had proclaimed herself to be. felicia hardy was in your t-shirt that she had borrowed because she had volunteered to stay over, and hair tied up in a messy bun that framed the features of her face perfectly. she didn’t have her goggles on with her, didn’t have the skin-tight bodysuit to help her in heists and her criminal activities, and yet, she managed to look even more beautiful, if possible. 

you sighed, knowing this was not going to end well. yet, when you looked back at her, a hint of a smile appeared on her face. a good dream, perhaps. 

felicia looked cold. you stood up to fetch a blanket from your room, and draped it over her when you got back, tucking the ends under her chin so it wouldn’t slip off. 

when your back was turned, her smile grew even wider in appreciation. 

it could be love, we could be the way forward and i know i'll pay for it

“why didn’t you let me go?! why the fuck did you hold me back?!” felicia had practically screamed, shaking you as the rain beat down on the both of you, minutes right after you had tore her away from her chase of the guard running with the keys to the vault. 

in return, you were even angrier that she was so stupid, so naive. “because he was running straight to the police! you wouldn’t have been able to escape all of them, all at once! and the cops there were under fisk’s payroll, you know this. you would’ve died, felicia!”

“and why do you care so much if i did?!”

her question left you stunned. at a loss for words and your mouth agape, felicia felt your arms release their grip on her own body, as you stepped back. 

the rain beat down harder, if possible. somewhere, lightning had struck a nearby building that caused her to jump. but you were unphased.

you knew why, and so did she. only, the both of you were too afraid to admit the truth, because felicia knew she would have done the same if she were in your position. 

and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

with the authorities now breathing down your necks due to the failed heist, felicia saw, and felt you slipping away like never before. 

you had disappeared from existence so many times before, it was what made your operation so successful each time, but this time, you being gone left a gaping hole in her heart that she knew none could fix. 

she was almost desperate enough to pick up the phone and beg you to come by her side. perhaps what spurred this desperation even further, was the next time that she saw you, it was at a socialite party and you were letting yet another desperate, creepy, old billionaire feeling you up and down and trying to bring you to bed with him. felicia almost had half a mind to tear his hand off, finger by finger. 

you made eye contact with her, but this time, as felicia approached, you shook your head slowly, telling her not to come any closer. that was before you walked off, leaving her feeling more isolated than she felt possible, in a room full of people. 

what felicia didn’t know, was that you had to walk off before you gave in to the compulsion of coming back to her arms and crying about how much you had missed her. 

and the old men that i've swindled really did believe i was the one

pockets full of rolexes, the trunk of your car filled with art pieces, the drawers in your wardrobe overfilling with stolen jewellery. even the zeroes being constantly added to your bank account was no longer giving you the dopamine high that the black cat could give you. 

your phone rang again. it was another one of your billionaire boys calling to ask when your next date would be; as if they still haven’t noticed you had picked them dry of any valuables they had during the date. 

presently, you looked back at the figure of the man laying in the hotel bed, the remnants of his touch still leaving an unpleasant sear on your skin. the lovesick look on his face as he snored was enough for you to gather your clothes and check out of the room as quickly as possible. 

for someone who was so powerful, the people you swindled were all so naive, you thought. little did you know, you were exactly just like them, when it came to felicia. 

and the ladies lunching have their stories about when you passed through town

don’t let her even try. don’t let her even try. don’t let her even try. you listened half-heartedly to the gossip of the wives of the group’s board members about the infamous black cat that had swindled their husbands of belongings before, not caring if you appeared disinterested. you already had what you came for. 

“i heard she’s a dangerous one, that girl.” sure is.

“probably has to be quite gorgeous, right? to get to so many men.” she’s more beautiful than anyone you could ever imagine. 

“still, doesn’t make sense why she would suddenly stop. i heard no one’s been robbed in almost two months.” oh. that one was new.

perhaps felicia had the same idea of leaving town and finding new ground to avoid you, as you had to avoid her. 

but that was all before I locked it down

“you’re really leaving?” you perched beside felicia one night, as she was scoping a new apartment to break into. 

she ignored how good it felt to hear your voice again, reaching out a hand to prevent you from perhaps getting the jump to the apartment before her. it was really to stop you from leaving again. 

“who told you that?”

“the ladies at tennis.”

“mm,” felicia smacked her lips, “so you keep up.”

you sighed, relaxing your stance and sitting down beside her instead. you removed your mask to look at her directly. she tried hard to avoid eye contact, in fear of what she would do if she was mesmerised by the sincerity in your eyes again. “i’ll go. you can stay here. new york is your home.”

“not anymore,” she said bitterly, but realising her tone and the vulnerability she was exposing, she playfully elbowed you, “not without you around.”

“felicia.”

she let down her guard, and frowned. at the solemn look on your face, felicia let her eyes drift away from the apartment for a bit, biting her lip nervously as she made the election to sit next to you. knees touching, hand still on your wrist. 

“we never would’ve worked, would we?”

“not with our lifestyles, we won’t.”

“but i’m not giving this up. not now, not ever.”

“me too.”

“so what do we do now?”

you both looked at each other, and it was the moment you knew. 

now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon

the feather-lightness of her kisses. her spare goggles and suit that had been next to yours in the short few weeks that she had spent in your home. the blanket you had draped around her shoulder the night she fell asleep on the dining chair. 

they now seemed impossible to admit that they were real. and so was your failed, almost-relationship with the black cat. nothing was real, the pact, the feelings, the love and concern you had for her. it amounted to nothing, because it stemmed from nothing. you and felicia had agreed upon that when you took her hand to dance in that wedding. 

you had known nothing about felicia, and she had known nothing about you either. she was your black cat, your partner in crime for a few break-ins and heists and robberies and everything in between. that was all. 

yet, the tears rolling down your cheeks that slowly dripped onto the oak floor of your apartment, the floor that you had danced with felicia on so many times before, were all too real to dismiss everything that the two of you had. 

nothing mattered, but everything did, all at once. 

with your boots beneath my bed forever is the sweetest con

you never returned the spare suit and goggles she had left behind. she never asked for them back either. you were sure she still had your own spare suit and mask at her place. 

perhaps it was the reminder of both of your presence in each other’s lives. a reality to keep you grounded, now that you were gone in another part of the planet, and felicia had nothing to live for, in new york. 

i've had some tricks up my sleeve takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me

one day in spring, exactly five years after the wedding, you received a package in the mail. 

it had cat fur belonging to a suit you still kept somewhere in the depths of your closet. she had found you. you tore open the package. 

and inside, were the very same flowers you had gifted felicia at your first dinner at her place, dried and pressed and beautifully preserved. you had no idea she treasured them so much to do such a thing.

and hidden even deeper into the package, were the jewels you had given back to her. returned to its rightful owner with a note this time.

takes one to know one. but i’m past that life now. if you are ready to try again, i am always going to be in new york waiting for your return. 

[musings-of-miss-j]

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part five: in which the doctor extends an olive branch (of sorts) while childe and signora demand your cooperation and a certain someone laments your absence

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: very very slowburn, reader has an attitude and a touch of social anxiety, crack, fluff, vague flirting and emotionally constipated yet unfairly pretty people pining for you

warnings: blood and organs

as always, inform me if you find any pronoun slips!!

series masterlist

word count: 4722 words

author's note: next part will probably be out in the next two days :) please enjoy some weird mfs being simps in the meantime

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  

The Doctor was sitting at his desk reading over some files when you walked into the lab, his free hand holding a vial of bubbling golden liquid suspended in the air as though he’d been in the midst of something and got distracted by the paperwork. You idly wondered if the liquid would evaporate if he let it sit like that for too long while you briefly searched the lab for your cloak. You frowned when you didn’t find it. Where else could it possibly be? Dismissing the issue for now, you rolled up the sleeves of Childe’s coat yet again and checked on the fungi you were growing in petri dishes. If your hypothesis was correct, they’d mutate into the Tri-Lakshana fungi when exposed to concentrated Dendro energy, but before you could test that the samples had to grow. Which they were doing a fabulous job of; one strain in particular had completely covered the bottom of the petri dish, and you quickly transferred it to a larger surface to continue growing. A crow squawked from outside one of the laboratory’s enormous windows, and a cursory glance revealed it was one of the many that had taken to visiting your chamber’s window for food. It was easily identifiable from the purple stain across its claws; the wolfhook extract you’d used to mark them was clearly holding up well. 

So was the all-cure you’d taken that morning; reliable as always, it had reduced your headache to a tiny buzzing in the back of your skull, and the only thing that caused you mental pain at the moment was the thought of Signora and her unwelcome invitation. 

You chewed over the less-than-appealing prospect as you rummaged through the cabinets for a whopperflower stamen. The gala was bound to be uncomfortable, with the Harbingers and their political allies in attendance. You still hadn’t the slightest idea what had come over Signora to invite you; as far as you were concerned, you had absolutely no business being part of such an event. Not to mention the fact that you wouldn’t know anyone there, save for Childe, the Doctor and Signora, but you didn’t seek them out for conversation even in day to day situations, much less in galas where they’d no doubt have important people to chat up. All in all, the entire situation made you a little queasy, and you finished extracting the whopperflower nectar with an anxious sigh. 

You turned to take the bottles of nectar to the cooler, only to jump and stifle a yelp of surprise when you found the Doctor standing right in front of you. Honestly, what is it with these Harbingers and startling me?

“Doctor.” You acknowledged him with a nod. He leaned in closer still, resting his hands on the countertop behind you and effectively trapping you between it and himself. You were immediately struck by several revelations at once; the Doctor was significantly taller than you, tall enough to block out the light from the ceiling lamp and throw a shadow over you, and he was so incredibly close. For whatever reason, you suddenly found it a little hard to breathe.

“You left a few documents on your workbench last night.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Did I?”

“Yes,” he confirmed wryly, dropping a stack of paper on the countertop behind you. You transferred the bottle to one hand and picked the papers up with the other, a twist of nervousness settling in your stomach when you recognised them. You hadn’t meant for the Doctor to see these. 

“Ah, yes. I’ll take them back with me today.”

“Perhaps you’d like to explain why you have a comprehensive procedure for creating an artificial Vision in your possession,” he drawled, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head to the side as he watched you. You swallowed. 

“It was a… pet project, I never pursued it to completion,” you replied, hoping he’d leave it at that. 

“It’s quite the blasphemous study, don’t you think? Trying to recreate the power of the gods?” 

“Hence why I never completed it.”

“These lovely notes you left in the margins state otherwise,” he remarked, tapping the paper with a gloved finger. “In my laboratory, no less.”

Oh dear. “I-”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the rules, my dear student,” he cut you off.  “Any experiments you wish to carry out on my premises must be approved first. And this”- he tapped the stack of paper again- “was never submitted.”

You felt an embarrassed flush rise to your cheeks. You’d been caught red-handed. Dottore found himself more interested in the blush on your cheeks than your questionable research. Sadistic as he was, watching you scramble for an explanation was rather enjoyable. 

“My apologies, doctor. I let my curiosity get the better of me.”

“You have a recurring habit of doing that,” he replied amusedly. It occurred to you that he didn’t seem particularly angry. You fiddled with one of the buttons on Childe’s coat. 

“I acknowledge it as one of my faults.”

“So very righteous of you.”

“Not particularly, considering I do nothing to remedy it,” you muttered sheepishly in response. The Doctor chuckled. He has a nice laugh. Appalled at yourself, you bury the thought deep in the back of your mind in an attempt to forget you’d ever conjured it. 

“Well, well, well. It seems my apprentice has a rebellious streak after all.” He grinned lazily, stepping back and resting his weight on the countertop behind him so you could slip past and store away the nectar to cool. 

You feel yourself flush anew. Archons, this is horrifically embarrassing. “Once again, I apologise for acting without approval.”

“And if I don’t accept your apology?” Dottore asked, more to see you squirm than anything else. 

“I suppose I’ll conveniently vanish from the face of Teyvat without a trace, doctor.”

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Why, are you implying I’d have you killed?��

“Well, consider this: your interpretation is ultimately a reflection of your subconscious,” you replied, shooting him a lopsided, slightly uncertain smile over your shoulder. This was unfamiliar ground, joking around with the Doctor, and you were afraid to overstep. He returned the smile with twice the intensity and amount of teeth; you caught a glimpse of his fangs. 

“If that is true, then perhaps you’d do well to watch your mouth.”

You turned away to hide your widening smile, chuckling softly under your breath. Exchanging barbs with the Doctor was proving to be incredibly fun. 

“Would you like me to offer you a third apology?”

“I’m feeling generous,” he replied, amusement evident in his tone. “I’ll forgo causing your disappearance in exchange for your assistance in an experiment.”

“Deal,” you agree with a mock-serious nod, shrugging off Childe’s coat when the sleeves slipped past your fingertips for the millionth time. It wouldn’t do to have them in the way, and besides, the lab was warmer than the rest of the palace. “What’s the procedure?”

Three hours later, you slumped over the marble workbench with a groan. Blood stained your arms all the way up to your elbows, and your favourite turtleneck was utterly ruined. The experiment was a lengthy, gory process; the removal of organs for individual study. Though you were hardly one to shy away from getting your hands a little dirty, this was a little much even for you. You’d gone through thirteen scalpels alone, but at the very least the liver, brain and kidneys you’d extracted were perfectly intact and more than suitable to be experimented on. You wished for an immediate solution to your agonising back pain after holding yourself stiffly over a corpse for hours, though; you couldn’t even keep yourself upright, your forehead pressing against the cool surface. It helped with the headache that was gradually squirming its way back into your skull. 

“Tired?” The Doctor asked, sparing your collapsed body an amused glance. He was somehow perfectly fine, much to your indignation. 

“I think tests on my organs would reveal unprecedented results at this moment,” you grumbled without lifting your head. Your hair splayed across the marble, which you recognised as a potential source of contamination yet wholeheartedly dismissed in favour of giving your aching muscles a rest. Dottore tugged off his bloodied gloves, watching you with a bemused smirk. 

“That can certainly be arranged,” he replied, baring his teeth in a shark-like smile. You shot him a withering glare then fumbled with the chain attached to your belt to check the time; your pocket watch smugly informed you that it was close to midnight. A muttered curse slipped past your lips, foul enough to make even Dottore raise his eyebrows behind his mask and do a double take while you ruminated over the unpleasant possibility that the dining hall would be closed at this time, and you idly wondered if dried jueyun chilis would serve as an adequate substitute for fresh ones (you knew perfectly well they didn’t even compare, but deluding yourself was an infinitely more appealing prospect at the moment.) You heard the clinking of jar lids, specially sealed with an anti-moisture formula developed from the pollen of Nilotpala lotuses. 

“Add a little slime condensate to the brain,” you muttered into the countertop with an absent-minded gesture of your hand. 

“My, my, how brazen of you to issue orders to your superior.”

“Please add a little slime condensate to the brain, doctor,” you quipped back with enough sarcasm to make the title sound like an insult. 

“No,” Dottore replied pleasantly, sealing away the liver and kidneys. “It’ll disrupt the ion concentration and water content.”

“That would be true if I said concentrate, but I didn’t. Slime condensate is dilute enough to not interfere with the neurons' cytoplasm, but it’ll keep the brain fresher.”

“Very good,” he said approvingly. He’d heard you, and he knew you were right, but he’d wanted to test you. “You retain your focus even in subpar conditions.” 

“As expected of any scientist worth their salt,” you said wryly, lifting your head to rub your eyes and grope along the countertop for your glasses. You were a little miffed that he’d felt the need to test your understanding of such a simple concept. 

You rubbed your eyes again. “Doctor, can you see my glasses?” You asked, squinting to observe the array of equipment strewn across the workbench. 

“No,” he lied, twirling them between his fingers and watching you search for them. You clicked your tongue with dissatisfaction, leaning in closer to the workbench’s surface in an attempt to see more clearly. Dottore bit back a chuckle. 

“Oh, damn it all. I could’ve sworn they were right here…” 

“Can’t find them?” He asked, an obvious lilt of amusement in his voice. You looked up, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“You have them, don’t you?”

“Ah, you saw through me so quickly,” he said, sounding simultaneously impressed and disappointed. “Am I really so obvious?”

“Hand them over,” you demanded, holding out your hand. 

He grinned so wide that you saw the flash of white from his teeth even with your vision blurred. 

“Such a shameful manner to adopt with a superior,” he said with a shake of his head. 

You rubbed your eyes and let out an exasperated huff. You could sense a shift in your dynamic with the Doctor, but clearly he was the only one who knew how to navigate it, leaving you disoriented and unsure of how to respond. 

“Doctor. It’s nearing one in the morning, and I have to return to my dormitory. Which I can’t safely do without being able to see half a metre in front of me.”

“Surely your eyesight isn’t quite that terrible.” He knew it was. In fact, he had a perfect copy of your first diagnosis and most recent check-up in his file of you. That file had grown to concerning sizes ever since your apprenticeship began. The Doctor reasoned that it would be a scientific sin if he didn't document everything he could about such a fascinating test subject. You sighed; you had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

“Please give me my glasses.”

You didn’t he could possibly grin any wider, but he proved you wrong. Despite his amusement being at your expense, you still found yourself thinking that his smile wasn’t unpleasant to look at. Objectively speaking, of course.

“In exchange for what?” He drawled, raising his eyebrows behind his mask.

An indignant flush rose to your face. In your defence, it was late, and the Doctor really was being an ass.

“In exchange for your DNA cloning not to be tampered with,” you fumed. “It would be a shame if someone were to denature the enzymes. Or accidentally alter the base sequence.”

“My dear student, are you threatening me?”

“The glasses, doctor.” You held out your hand again.

Dottore sighed mock-defeatedly, rounding the workbench and making his way towards you.

“You are so terribly demanding,” he remarked. You glowered at him, arms folded, until his gloves fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your face upwards. Your eyes widened in shock as he came close enough for you to make out the detailing of his mask. “Just demanding enough for me to listen to you,” he murmured, lifting you glasses and setting them on the bridge of your nose. His grasp on your chin didn’t loosen, and he was incredibly thankful for his mask in that moment. It hid the way his eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards your lips. You stood there frozen from shock until your limbs regained the ability to move and you stepped away with a nervous mumble; “I should be going now.” Dottore watched you hurry away with a self-satisfied smirk.

Disconcerted by the Doctor’s behaviour, you didn’t notice Childe’s sleeping form sprawled in front of the laboratory door until you tripped over him. He jerked awake as you steadied yourself.

“Trixy!” Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he clambered up from the floor and instinctively grabbed onto you for support when he swayed a little on his feet. You did your best to support his much taller body with your own.

“Eleven? What are you doing here?” You asked, bewildered. He leaned heavily against your shoulder, stifling a yawn. His movements were oddly uncoordinated, you noticed.

“You promised you’d come to dinner and you didn’t.” He was practically pouting. It was almost cute, if you convinced yourself to forget that he was a Harbinger. “I was waiting for you!”

“Why in Teyvat”- with a grunt, you pushed him off you. “What possessed you, you buffoon? Dinner was six hours ago!”

“If you keep calling me names I won’t give you these chillies I brought from the kitchen.”

“Oh, Childe,” you murmured, dragging a hand down your face. “Are you sober?”

He giggled.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so,” you agreed, looping his arm over your shoulder. You could faintly smell the wine on him. Red, if your nose was accurate. “Move it,” you ordered, dragging him towards the stairs. He grumbled a protest, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You took off my coat.”

“The sleeves were too long,” you replied, carefully navigating the stairs with him in tow. Surprise, surprise, it was far from easy to descend a spiral staircase with an overgrown Harbinger who refused to look where he was going leaning against you. “Eleven, for Celestia’s sake.” You rapped your knuckles against his skull to get him to look up. “Raise your head and tell me where your bloody dorm is.”

“Trixyyy, don’t yell at me,” he whined into your neck.

“Focus, Eleven. You’re drunker than a single father on a Friday night and you need to rest. Now exert a little effort and tell me where your dorm is, or Archons help me I’ll leave you right here in the hallway.”

His incoherent mumbling echoed through the empty corridor, the palace eerily silent save for your footsteps and breathing. The foggy glow from the lamps glinting off the silver in the walls and throwing large shadows across the floor only added to the unnerving atmosphere, and you found yourself slowly getting nervous. With a muttered curse, you decided to drag him to your room instead. You knew where that was, at least.

It took entirely too long to reach the door to your room; Childe was not only ridiculously tall, but also heavy and resolutely uncooperative. You fumbled for your key with one hand while the other supported his limp body; after a moment of struggling with the chain at your belt you managed to get it unhooked and unlocked the door, dumping Childe onto the nearest armchair.

“Damn you,” you muttered.

“So mean,” he protested, staring up at you as you made your way to the bathroom. He really wasn’t that drunk; a little tipsy, sure, but he was definitely playing it up. If it got him an ounce of your attention then he’d gladly throw his dignity to the four winds, shameless as it was.

“Don’t move,” you instructed him with a stern look before disappearing into the bathroom. He heard rushing water and concluded you were probably getting rid of the mysterious blood stains all over your torso.

To your eternal horror, when you emerged from the bathroom La Signora was lounging in the other armchair by the fire smoking a pipe of some mysterious substance you were quite certain you’d smelled in the Jade Chamber before. Perhaps Lady Ningguang and La Signora had similar smoking habits.

“L-lady Eight?”

She turned slightly to shoot you a knowing, dangerous smile after darting a look loaded with meaning between you and Childe passed out drunk in the other armchair. You blushed scarlet from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearing your throat and towelling your hair dry.

“A pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

“Is it really, little one?” She countered, surveying you with her one visible eye and taking a long drag from her pipe. “I seem to have come at a bad time.”

“Not at all,” you insisted. “Lord Eleven- well, I tripped over him while exiting the Doctor’s laboratory. He seems to be fairly… intoxicated.”

Signora hummed, resting her chin in her hand and tapping her manicured nails against her cheek as she watched you dry off your hair. No doubt you’d been preparing to go to sleep.

“Is there anything you require my assistance with, my lady?” You ventured.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied, calm and unhurried.  “Come here.”

You stepped towards her.

“Closer, little one.”

Another couple of steps.

“Perfect. Now…” She rose from the chair and held you by the shoulders, manoeuvring you into it instead. Setting the pipe aside, she bent over to scrutinise you thoughtfully, tilting your face to assess how you looked at different angles and in different lighting. Truly a work of art, she thought. You held your breath and sat as still as possible, your back ramrod straight.

“Lady Eight…?”

“You have nothing to wear for the gala. We’ll have to remedy that,” she murmured, tapping her finger on your cheek. You weren’t surprised that she knew the contents of your wardrobe in the slightest; the Fatui probably knew things even you didn’t know about yourself yet. (You were right).

“You’d look ravishing in red,” she mused.

“I’m sure your opinion on such matter is indispensable.”

“Quite right,” she agreed, moving away from you a little. “And my opinion is that we should dress you in red.”

“As my lady wishes.”

Childe had had quite enough of listening to Signora fawn over you, and chose that exact moment to get up and stride over.

“I think blue would be a better choice,” he interjected. You shot him a disbelieving look.

“You put on quite a convincing act of being unconscious, don’t you, my lord?”

Signora appraised him coolly. “Nonsense, Childe. Red.”

“Blue,” he argued, grazing his knuckles across your jaw. You shivered.

“Let us discuss this in the morning,” you suggested, moving to get up. Both Childe and Signora pushed you back down while glaring heatedly at each other. The air crackled with tension you could identify but not recognise; the two were clearly locked in some battle of wills.

“You should wear something blue, Trixy.”

“The gala is still months away-”

“Red is a much better choice. You agree, don’t you, little one?” Signora interjected, stroking your hair.

“Objectively speaking, it’s hardly relevant nor important what colour I wear,” you pointed out.

“Nonsense,” Signora said dismissively. “You’ll be the gem, the star of the gala. Of course it matters.”

Childe nodded, as much as he hated to agree with Signora. You massaged your temples.

“That’s simply not true. Lady Eight, you told me yourself this gala is an event reserved for the maintenance of the Fatui’s connections. My personal appearance doesn’t factor into the equation in any way, shape or form.”

“Maybe our enjoyment depends on you,” Childe said with a grin, taking your hand and brushing a kiss across your knuckles. Oh, Archons. He’s completely drunk. Utterly sloshed. You were beginning to feel a little cloistered with both of them hovering over you, making nonsensical claims and debating irrelevant points.

“Blue.”

“Red.”

“A coin toss in the morning will decide,” you announced firmly, rubbing your eyes. It was appallingly late, and you knew waking up for the Doctor’s seven am lab session was going to be an evil experience. You really weren’t keen on making it any worse because two Harbingers couldn’t hold back their egos over something as trifling as your outfit.

Of all the ways to establish superiority, why did they have to pick one that involves me?

“My lord, my lady, please allow me to see you out,” you continued, rising from where you were seated. Childe pouted.

“I’m drunk, Trixy. You have to nurse me back to health.”

Signora clicked her tongue derisively, and you mentally agreed with her. With a sigh, you rummaged through your medicine drawer for the tonic you’d concocted for hangovers. Though you weren’t a big drinker yourself, during your Akademiya years many of your friends indulged in the bad habit of drinking themselves half-blind (usually Kaveh and Dehya) and you didn’t have the patience to deal with their slurring words and careless behaviour. Hence your useful tonic. You shoved a vial of it at Childe.

“Drink this,” you ordered.

“What is it?”

“If you want to be ‘nursed back to health’ then drink what I give you without asking questions.”

He shrugged and knocked back the tiny vial in one fell swoop, grimacing as the bitter taste settled on his tongue.

“Is this poison?” He exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Signora rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you fool,” she said contemptuously. “The little one had the utter gal to poison you in front of a Harbinger. That’s absolutely what happened.”

He muttered a derisive comment or two under his breath while you tried to push him towards the door. When he didn’t budge an inch, your patience finally snapped.

“Damn it all, won’t you leave, both of you?! I have more important matters to concern myself with than an overgrown child and a tempestuous mistress!”

Stunned by your outburst, they both left without another complaint. Childe even uttered a ‘Sorry, Trixy…” as the door closed behind him. You locked the door, stomped over to the bed and went to sleep without even bothering to fully dry your hair.

You regretted that in the morning as you wrestled the unkempt, tangled strands into a semi-acceptable state. Panic prevailed; you didn’t have anything stored away to eat for breakfast, and a trip to the dining hall would definitely make you late. You cursed the Doctor to the lowest ring of hell, making a mad dash to grab a bite to eat anyway; it was his fault you woke up so late, keeping you in the lab until after midnight. You nearly crashed into Anya in the hallway in your haste, and you called out an apology that was quickly swallowed by the chatter of recruits and their footsteps. The dining hall had never seemed so far away, and you kept stealing glances at your pocket watch as you leaped down a full flight of stairs and all but tripped through the enormous doors, making a beeline towards the tables with the intention of wolfing down a leftover slice of pie at the very least. Damn it all. Even your precious morning tea was forgone in favour of scrambling back to the door and attempt to make it to the lab in time.

But you didn’t even make it to the door; a hand grabbed the back of your coat (Childe’s coat, really, that you’d thrown on in a fit of desperation) and yanked you away from the door.

“What”- you whirled around and were met by a rather familiar masked face inches from yours. The strange woman who you’d taken to calling ‘Arlie’ as a nickname. “Release me this instant, I’m late.”

She tsked, pulling you closer by your collar this time.

“Where have you been?”

You shot a desperate glance at your watch. In all fairness, her irritation could very well be justified; you often took dinner together and chatted over dessert at least every other day. Besides, the sheer authority she exuded was enough to make you feel rather guilty. You hadn’t been to the dining hall in nearly a week, surviving off jars of reheated soup and candied amakumo fruit. Clearly your presence was more impactful to Arlie than you’d thought (she thought it was rather obvious; going to the trouble of a disguise just to indulge in conversation with you should’ve been an adequate indicator).

“It’s been an awfully busy week, Arlie, I’m sorry,” you said hurriedly, licking a few crumbs from the pie’s crust off your fingertips. Much to her relief, her mask concealed the way her eyes immediately latched onto your mouth and tongue. The room felt a little hotter all of a sudden. “I really must be going, the Doctor will have my bones on a silver platter if I keep him waiting any longer.”

Arlie rolled her eyes. As if she’d let any harm come to her little pet, by the hand of Dottore or otherwise. Nevertheless, she released you.

“I’d like to see you at dinner today.” It was more of a warning than an invitation. You were too rushed to protest her patronising tone, and you rather enjoyed the meals you shared too.

“You will,” you promised, and then rushed out of the door towards the lab. She watched the white velvet of your coat disappear with a slight frown; now how could she get you to stop wearing that fool’s clothes?

 

The door to the laboratory was hanging ajar. Thoroughly unusual, but you were fifteen minutes late by then and a lapse in the Doctor’s obsessively maintained habits took a backseat. You stepped into the lab with as much dignity as you could muster, determined not to look guilty; everyone was late now and then, the Doctor could bloody well suck it up-

A pair of hands grabbed you by the shoulders and dragged you the rest of the way into the lab, shaking you vigorously. With an irritated, surprised yell, you tried to shove away the assailant, and when that didn’t work you resorted to your trusty glare.

Oh. The man looked remarkably like the Doctor. The same curly, silver-blue hair and stubborn set to his jaw. And the same curve to his top lip.

The jarring similarities made you pause and scrutinise the man a little more closely.

“Who are you?” You asked bluntly, frowning as you tried to remember if the Doctor ever mentioned having siblings. You could hear more voices coming from further inside; tiptoeing, you caught sight of several more Dottore-like people. So definitely not siblings, then. The not-Doctor tsked, then shook you hard again to regain your attention. “Who are all of these people? Why do you all look like the Doctor?”

At the sound of your voice, all the Dottore clones went scampering away through exits you hadn’t even known existed.

“Where were you, you disagreeable fool?”

You stared up at the clone who still hadn’t let go of you.

“I’d like an explanation as to why there are apparently multiple copies of my supervisor.”

“You’re every bit as nosy as Prime said…” he muttered.

“And who, pray tell, is Prime? Is that some sort of a code name for my Doctor?”

“Quite right,” a familiar, drawling voice responded. The clone tensed up then hurried off, leaving you off-balance and stumbling. “You are late. Inexcusably so,” the Doctor said, watching you steady yourself.

“Why are there seven clones of you?”

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  

[pacifymebby]

Hello can I request the peaky blinders x selective mute reader pls, do you think any of them would understand what's going on or are they completely in the dark? And how would you think they would react to hearing your voice for the first time?

Tommy

🌿 Is drawn in by it, thinks you're mysterious, presumes you're like him and that you're just above the meaningless conversations people fritter through at the Garrison or the markets... He thinks you must be deeper than all that.

🌿 So he's endeared to you, but he's projecting this image he has of you onto you, not necessarily seeing the real you at all. He has this view of some, cool and removed, sharp girl...

🌿 But then he tries to speak to you directly and he notices the way you don't look him in the eye, the way you look to your friend for help only to find your friend has unfortunately been stunned into silence by the presence of Tommy Shelby.

🌿When your friend pulls herself together and apologises, and apologises on your behalf too, Tommy doesn't take his eyes off you, because you still haven't looked at him and he knows youre not going to talk...

🌿 Would want to unravel the mystery, get close to you, know you better than anyone else... Hes always very gentle and charming. He's realised now that he might scare you and so he's more careful not wanting to frighten you, never stern or sharp with you the way he often is with others.

🌿 He's persistent as fuck. Often if he sees you in public he'll say hello, he'll talk to you about what he's doing and he'll try to find things to mention about you. He almost always says something complimentary about your appearance, leaves you blushing nine times out of ten.

🌿 Hes always so calm and polite around you, you actually end up seeing and getting to know a completely different Tommy than anyone else.

🌿 It takes a long time for him to win your trust and keep your confidence but as time goes by you begin looking forward to seeing him, secretly hoping he'll come and sit with you in the Garrison. And whenever he sees you he always does.

🌿 Something about Tommy is that he's quite happy to sit in silence, he likes his thinking time, his peace and quiet and he likes just sitting in silence with you, watching the world go by, watching you.

🌿 He feels so pleased when you finally say something but doesnt show how shocked or pleased he is, just smiles softly and replies to you as if you were anyone else... Because he doesnt want to make a fuss and embarrass you and he doesn't want to behave as if your behaviour is abnormal for fear you'll be too anxious to try and speak again.

🌿 Won't rescue you in conversation because he wants you to know you don't need rescuing, that youre capable of speaking up for yourself.

🌿 He gently encourages eye contact, always correcting your gaze when he talks to you. He often cups your cheek in his hand when he's having a conversation with you, its this reassuring contact which also allows him to keep pushing your gaze gently back to his.

🌿 "Look at me angel, thats better... You've got lovely eyes y/n, let me look at you eh?" he's so gentle with you, his voice becomes a reassuring sound and even if you're still quiet with him, you feel comfortable and slowly, slowly Tommy helps you to build your confidence.

🌿 He'll never cut you off. Ever. Every word that leaves your lips is precious to him and he will never interrupt you. He knows that if he does you'll lose your confidence and start second guessing yourself so he always listens to you, always encourages you to finish what you were saying when you trail off or start to get shy and nervous.

Alfie

🐻 Is endeared to you, but concerned for you too. This is a nasty bit of town you're living in and a girl who can't speak up for herself could wind up in all sorts of trouble.

🐻 The first time he meets you he says all that, he's gruff and grumpy and he doesn't realise until its too late that he's making things so much harder for himself.

🐻 Because you're scared of him then, every time you see him you try to slip away and thats very inconvenient because Alfie is actually quite fond of you, and he wants to look out for you.

🐻 He thinks you're adorable and he's sure you must be one of the sweetest girls he's ever met. He wants to hear your voice, get to know you...

🐻 So he has to change his tact, from then on he's a complete softie with you, he's gentle, he's calm and softly spoken, he doesnt grumble or snap and he tries to hard to be friendly, nothing but charming.

🐻 Luckily for Alfie he can do enough talking for the both of you and your silence is hardly noticeable. He will walk with you through Camden Market, or wherever you're going actually (he's impossible to shake because he wants everyone to see you with him so that no one will think of messing with you) and he'll talk and talk and well... Talk at you, telling you all sorts of stories.

🐻 It takes time you do eventually warm to him. You look forward to seeing him and you enjoy listening to him. You find him very funny and he makes you laugh a lot, even though whenever he does you try to hide it or hold it back. His favourite sound in the world is your little giggle muffled by your hands or your sleeves.

🐻 Sometimes he'll get carried away and realise when its already too late that the story he's telling you is actually probably quite scary, its probably intimidating you...so he'll apologise and cough a little awkwardly and try to change the subject to something softer...

🐻 And thats what makes you speak up, one day he coughs and tries to change the subject just when he was getting to the gory details of a story he's telling you about ghosts people say they've seen down Camden Lock. He tries to change the subject and start talking about something else when you cut him off.

🐻 "Wait don't!" you shock yourself and blush immediately regretting cutting him off, you feel all kinds of anxious, expecting him to be annoyed with you but he isn't. Instead he just chuckles and asks "Don't what poppet?"

🐻 You're not sure you can speak up again, losing your voice immediately but Alfie thinks he knows and he chuckles, "you want to know more about the ghosts?" he asks and when you nod he tries to tease you, "say please..." you panic feeling the tightness in your throat until he smiles and shakes his head and gives your hand a squeeze. "Don't worry zieskiet, don't worry I'm just kidding with you, I know... Very cruel of me want it, I'm sorry poppet..."

🐻 Alfie feels a fatherly protectiveness over you, he can tell that youre an intelligent girl, he can see you have so much potential. He wants you to be more confident, wants you to be able to stand up for yourself, speak for yourself. He's sure you have so many interesting things to say...

🐻 He'll kind of daddy you through it, lots of gentle encouragement but also being kind of firm with you too. He'll ask you questions, he'll be soft with you, but he'll wait for you to answer him. He'll be very encouraging.

🐻 He'll constantly reassure you that he wants to listen to you, that your opinions are valuable, that he'll hear you when you talk to him. "All those thoughts you've got floating around your pretty head y/n, the big ones and all the little ones too right, they're important and I wanna hear every last one yeah... You can tell me anything you like, whenever you like right and I, will always be hear to listen to you yeah, cause you're a smart girl, and everything you think and feel yeah, important... Got that?"

🐻 He'll practice conversations with you, like basic every day conversations. And he'll be so laidback about it too, he won't lie or over complicate thingd. "See right, when you go down the market and such and such whatever his name is, yknow the ugly fella with them big fuckin Cauliflower ears, when he asks how you are right... You don't have to actuually tell him the truth you know... You could just say 'fine thanks' or 'perfectly happy mr Cauliflower ears' or 'fuckin miserable leave me alone' you know... Alright zieskiet you practice on me yeah, you pretend I'm mr fuckin Cauliflower ears and you tell me what you wanna buy from my shit little market stall yeah? Well done poppet, see we're gettin there aren't we... "

🐻 Selfishly he has to admit he enjoys the way you'll only talk to him, the way you look to him so dependently. He loves the way you turn to him when youre lost in conversation, feeling scared or overwhelmed. And he'll never let you down. When you look at him with those wide eyes he will always help you, whether that's answering for you (he feeks so proud that you trust him enough to look to him to do this for you) or whether its giving your hand a squeeze and giving you the gentle encouragement you need to find your words again.

Arthur

🍂 Honestly? You make him nervous. Well, silence makes him nervous, not you personally, it's just that you're a very quiet lass and when he's left alone with you he feels under pressure to speak because you never do.

🍂He ends up saying really stupid things, stumbling over his words, getting frustrated with himself and blushing, he would seem shy if he didn't just come out with every thought that crosses his mind.

🍂 "Funny weather we're having ain't it, well you know, not funny, nah, no one finds fucking weather funny do they, you don't see people laughing at the sun do you, nah I meant like... fuck sake I don't know what I meant..." Him trailing off, you watching him curiously, he's quite endearing, not as intimidating as other people.

🍂 Seconds later he starts talking again, "so what brings you to this end of town love? You don't really look like the kind of girl who should be sitting outside my brothers office on her own... now I'm not being rude, I don't mean you look weird or you know.. I don't fuckin know, I'm not trying to be rude lass I promise, I'm just..."

🍂 His awkwardness makes you laugh, you giggle when he gets flustered and so your laugh is the first thing he hears. And he loves it. He laughs with you, awkwardly, but decides he wants to hear your laugh over and over again.

🍂 He thinks you're probably scared of him and his family, and he's not wrong exactly, its just that everyone intimidates you and no matter who you're socialising with its scary.

🍂 So he tries to put you at ease by being gentle, kind and soft. He tries not to swear in front of you but thats quite hard for Arthur since he's got the pottiest mouth in town and he's always getting annoyed and swearing.

🍂 He does a lot of "fuck... sorry love I mean... f.." opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish because he can't think of any other word that isn't a curse.

🍂 And you find this very funny so you do a lot of giggling and he does a lot of blushing and although things are very awkward between you you warm to him very quickly. He doesn't scare you as much as other people even though he should.

🍂 Maybe its his own nerves that put you at ease, the way you can tell that it isn't easy for him either. The fact that he's always embarrassing himself in front of you... it makes you feel like he isn't judging you.

🍂 Arthur understands you a little, even if he doesn't understand exactly what's going on with you. He thinks you're scared/ shy and doesn't necessarily understand that there's more than that going on. He too struggles to regulate his emotions and finds a lot of things about the world quite scary deep down so he empathises with your anxiety and he understands why you always look so scared and overwhelmed. Its how he would look if he was allowed to express himself, if he didn't have to put on the tough guy act all the time.

🍂 The first time you speak to him its because he's said something daft again and is cursing himself for being "such a stupid fuckin dinlow sometimes..." Whenever you hear him put himself down you always want to argue with him but you never build up the courage in time and the moment passes just as awkwardly as it always does. But today it just slips out. "You're not..." you barely say anything at all but those two words fill Arthur with so much joy he can't keep the smile and the blush from his cheeks. He's really proud that you've spoken to him, since you never speak to anyone else around these parts.

🍂 He kind of gets his hopes up then that you're going to do the talking but of course that isn't how this works. He's disappointed at first but you've given him hope with those two words and every conversation he has with you from then on he sees as another opportunity to hear your voice.

🍂 He wants to help you to speak and he tells you that in his own way, "its a shame for you ain't it, I'm not exactly fuckin... shit I'm sorry lass... and sorry about that too I spose, I meant, am not exactly very good at this either am I... conversation like, it ain't really my strong point.."

🍂 but you'd just smile, a warm smile, half a laugh. Enough for Arthur to understand you're enjoying his company, he isn't scaring you, he's making you happy. Which is actually all he wants to do.

John

🌼 John takes it personally, he's heard you talking to his Aunt Pol before, and you talk to Bonnie Gold! But never to him. He thinks it isn't fair and it wounds his ego because he can't understand why you don't like him.

🌼 He becomes convinced it's his fault, that there must be something he's done to upset you. Tries going over everything he's ever said to you but he knows he's only ever been friendly. So then he gets more frustrated and more wounded and he starts getting sulky.

🌼 Probably stops speaking to you, probably avoids you when he can and, when he can't he probably gives you all these sullen glances and sulky looks that make you feel all the more nervous around him.

🌼 In the end Bonnie starts picking on him about it, telling him not to glare at you the way he does. "Girls shy enough as it is and you're not helping are ye..." "That girl doesn't fuckin like me anyway does she..." Bonnie would laugh at him then, "fuckin dinlow."

🌼 When Bonnie explains that you're shy John has a hard time believing him, "if she's just shy..." "she's not just shy... dinlow, its more than that... if you want her to speak to you you have to win her trust... show her you're not gonna make her regret speaking to ye.... that means smile at her steada whatever that sulkings all about eh..."

🌼 John begrudgingly accepts and tries to follow Bonnie's advice but its difficult. He's used to lasses smiling and flirting with him, he's used to girls who take to his charm immediately, but you can hardly even look at him.

🌼 He's definitely the sort to think that giving you little gifts like the odd flower is going to "bribe" you into speaking to him, and whenever these gifts fail to do so he is always surprised (because he's stupid and doesn't learn) and a little disappointed but not deterred.

🌼 He will pester the living daylights out of anyone you do speak to to find out if you ever say anything about him and when Bonnie says "oh aye she asked about you the other day yeah mate..." "What? What did she say?" "Oh god i dont know let me think... I think she said somet like 'here bon, my best friend in the whole wide world, you know John Shelby don't you... Do you know why he won't leave me the fuck alone?"

🌼 John will just blink back at him stunned, realising hes joking when Bonnie splits a grin and starts laughing at him. "Nah she hasn't said anythin but thats probably a good thing..."

🌼 So poor John has to persist, trying not to let it get to him the way you shy away from him. Its as if you're so scared of him and all he wants to do is show you you've nothing to worry about with him.

🌼 He gets really protective over you, always jumping to your defense when someone complains about how quiet you are. If someone says "she makes me nervous..." You're sure to hear John grumble, "here, mate... I'll give you somet to be nervous about..."

🌼 Eventually all his protectiveness, his little gifts, the way he just doesn't seem to want to give up on you, chips away at your anxiety and leaves you feeling comfortable enough to say "thank you," when he gives you a flower, and to ask him what hes giving it to you for. "Pretty girls deserve pretty things I spose..."

🌼 Naturally that embarasses you making you blush and avert your gaze. John wouldn't know whether it was a good sign or not but he'd try his best to think positively. He'd smile and shove his hands in your pockets and say something like, "not much of a talker are you lass? S'alright i can do the talking for both of us..."

🌼 He'll rescue you in conversation, when someone asks you a question he'll answer for you if you look lost. He'll introduce you to new people and he'll make light of the way you can't speak so that its not awkward and no one thinks you're being rude.

🌼 When it occurs to him one day that you just said hello to him first he'll be stunned, he'll grin the biggest grin and probably pull you in for a shocker of a hug. He can't help it, he's really happy but also really proud of you too.

🌼 No one really understands how the two of you came to be so close since you're practically polar opposites but thats because no one else really sees John's gentler side. His carefulness which is reserved only for you.

🌼 He has that natural fatherly worrying instinct, he worries about how you'll cope when he's not there and whenever you're going out with Ada and the girls he gives them strict instructions to look out for you.

🌼 He probably worries that if something happens to you you will be too scared to shout for help so he gives you a whistle to wear around your neck on a little chain. He says if anything happens to you and you can't shout for help you're to blow the whistle.

,🌼 makes you practice because he knows you well enough to know that if it comes to it you probably won't blow the fucking whistle.

Bonnie

🍀 Thinks he might understand whats going on. He's perceptive, he has to be as a boxer and as a peaky boy. He's good at noticing things about his opponents in the ring, when theyre nervous, when theyre worn out... He's good at sensing fear too, he knows exactly how to read his enemies mind, find their weak spots without moving a muscle or saying a word.

🍀 So he notices things about you pretty quickly. He can tell by studying your expression when you're in a group, or when he tries to talk to you that you're scared and uncertain. The way you never look anyone in the eyes, the way you freeze up and try to shrink away into your clothes when someone says your name.

🍀 At first he thinks you're just shy, and to be honest he's not exactly used to shy girls. None of his sisters or any of the girls he grew up with are shy. Quite the opposite actually. So this is unfamiliar territory...

🍀 Even so, Bonnie is an optimistic lad at the very least, obnoxiously persistent in the eyes of those less forgiving. So he doesn't give up. He tries his very best to bring you out of your shell.

🍀 He makes a point of always smiling at you, always meeting your gaze even if only for a second, he speaks to you directly, always makes sure to say hello to you directly even when you're in a group. He doesnt push it further than that at first but over time, when you start to smile back, he starts asking you questions, and when you don't answer he starts answering the questions too, "hows your week been?... Ah well mines been alright can't complain you know... Got a fight coming up you know... Come see me if you like am gonna win in the fourth round..."

🍀 Maybe he's naive but he thinks he can probably trust you with his secrets... Who are you going to tell them to afterall.

🍀 When he feels close enough to you he'll probably make that joke and hope to god you laugh rather than hit him for it.

🍀 The longer this all goes on though the more Bonnie begins to wonder if you're really "just shy" or if its somethint else. Something deeper than that?

🍀 He's extremely patient though and he will rescue you in conversations when he sees you need it, he's actually very protective over you and it genuinely hurts his wee heart when he sees you looking scared and awkward, if he thinks you're struggling he'll swoop in to rescue you, sometimes without even thinking about what he's saying so that he embarrasses himself. But no bother eh, anything to take the pressure is off you.

🍀 The first time he hears you laughing its because he's a embarassed himself in front of the peaky boys. You'd usually feel far too uncomfortable to laugh at anything, choking back your laughter, clenching your fists and holding your breath to keep it inside. But Bonnie makes you feel safe, and you're always just a little more comfortable when hes around.

🍀 So when he says the stupidest thing you think you have ever heard, the giggle just tumbles out of you and doesn't stop. Everyone's looking at you in shock because you've only ever smirked at most in the past. When you realise everyones looking at you you go quiet again but your eyes find Bonnies and the warmth of his smile settles your anxieties and reassures you that everythings okay.

🍀 For as much as Bonnie will always rescue you in conversations and speak up when you can't, he can see how much pain you're in, how anxious you seem to be all the time and he'll want to help you. He wants you to be happy and confident enough to speak for yourself even when he isn't around.

🍀So he'll try his best when its just the two of you, not to rescue you when you lose your words. Instead he'll take your chin with his finger, tilt your gaze back up to his and hold eye contact with you saying something like "go on lovely, what were you going to say?"

🍀 He makes sure you can see he's listening to you. If you're in a group and you try to speak but no one hears you, Bonnie will make sure people hear you and don't forget about you. All these little things build your confidence slowly over time.

🍀 And when you are anxious his hand always manages to find yours giving you a reassuring squeeze. Bonnie is all about showing you he is there for you.

🍀You develop this kind of telepathy almost, a simple look is enough from either of you to make the other laugh or understand exactly what youre both thinking. He'll look to you and roll his eyes when his dad is talking and when you start laughing everyone will know its the two of you up to no good again.

🍀People say he brings out the worst in you, hes a bad influence, but he's the opposite actually and everyone can see how much happier you are when you're with him. His confidence and happy go lucky nature brings out a calmer less anxious side to you and you've never smiled more than when you're with him.

🍀 One of your things is not ever being able to address someone by their name so he kind of craves hearing u say his. And whenever you do he loves it!

Isaiah

🐀It drives him crazy because he knows you can talk. He knows you're just "choosing" not to talk when he's around. He's interjected in conversations in which you were talking to Ada before and literally watched the smile fall from your lips at the sight of him...

🐀So much like John his ego is wounded and he just gets frustrated trying to work out what he's done wrong. Why you don't like him.

🐀It wouldn't actually occur to him that you might be scared of him because he's with the Peaky Blinders. Ada has to point that out to him... But even when she does he just shrugs and says he doesn't understand. "I'm nice? I don't get it, I'm always fuckin nice!"

🐀He copes with his insecurity about you by teasing you, making little jokes about how you never speak. He calls you little mouse because you're so mousy and shy. Ada tells him off for this so many times but trying to laugh at the fact you won't talk to hin is the only way he can be less embarrassed about the fact that you don't like him.

🐀He will be too embarrassed about his insecurity to ask anyone for any real advice, he'll just keep going, making the jokes, knowing hes making things worse.

🐀Finally when he gets you alone one day, he'll get annoyed at the awkward silence between you and suddenly just let everything out confessing everything to you. "I know you don't like me very much sweetheart, know you probably wish I'd shut up and leave you the fuck alone right now eh but I just wanna know what I've done like... Always try me best to be fuckin nice to you don't I but I don't reckon I have been cause you don't seem to have warmed up to me much do you... "

🐀"Yknow I don't mean anythin by any of that stupid shite i say don't you mousy... Truth is i think you're a really sweet little lass, all i really wants well, i dont know... Just a little hello every now and then would do... Just want to feel like we're friends... "

🐀When you still cant respond and you flee he just has to accept it and take the L cause he deserved it for taking the mickey out of you for as long as he has done. Honestly it's going to take such a long time for him to win your trust now.

🐀He'd maybe even need to give you a little space, get used to the fact that you aren't going to speak, accept that you're going to be quiet and shy and that you probably won't even look at him.

🐀He has a lot of learning to do tbh, like he has to learn that your silence isn't a reflection of him, it doesn't mean you don't like him. He basically has to work on his own self confidence (and i mean his real deep internal self esteem not that cocky arrogant front he puts on in front of others) he has to really work on his own sense of self and then look to working on his relationship with you

🐀He goes from being your most frustrating tormenter to your most fierce protector. If he ever catches anyone making jokes about you he'll shoot them down, sarcastically laugh at them all "like she hasn't heard that before cunt..."

🐀I think it takes Isaiah the longest to hear you speak. And then when you finally do he gets shy and paranoid he's going to fuck it up, that hes going to do the wrong thing and you'll never want to speak to him again.

🐀All you said was hello, a simple hello in response to his, that was it. But he forgets how to speak, just looks at you blankly, manages to smile and just sort of repeats himself, says hello again and gets awkward. Which makes you awkward too. You smile but you shrink away because you really need him to lead a conversation.

🐀Pulls himself together in time to say its nice to see you. You kind of just have this awkward conversation where everything he says you repeat back and he has to stop himself from repeating again, you just go round in cirlcles until Ada cuts in and rescues you both.

🐀One day he asks if you can forgive him for having been such a stupid git to you in the beginning and hes so relieved when you nod your head and let him take your hand.

🐀Considering how scared you used to be of him and his stupid jokes you feel so close to him now. No ones ever put this much effort into getting to know you and trying to win your trust.

🐀"You've got a really lovely voice you know," he isn't used to saying "nice" things to people and meaning them, he's usually such an empty flirt, trying to charm lasses into a one night fling. But with you its different and you mean a lot to him.

🐀Still calls you mousy but its affectionate and it becomes this sign of your firm bond. Only he gets to tease you and call you that name, he's earnt the closeness you share and you know he means it affectionately.

🐀Rather than actively helping you to get better at speaking, his boisterous personality and relentless cocky attitude probably rubs off on you. Its hard not to feel a little more confident when you're on Isaiahs arm. He lets you wear his peaky cap sometimes in big groups, it shows everyone youre with him, and he sees it bring out your confidence.

Michael

☘️ I think Michael was shy as a little boy, at least more so than all of his cousins, and then when he was taken from his mother probably even more so.

☘️He probably didn't talk much when he was given to his new family. Even as he got older he probably wasn't the most self assured young lad. In school he probably tried to fit in and did a little, but wasn't particularly loud or popular.

☘️ So when he meets you he recognises that uncertainty in your eyes and understands your social anxieties.

☘️ He wants to give you a hug and tell you it'll be alright, that even if things feel overwhelming for you now, if things feel scary and you feel like you're not capable of doing anything right, or that you don't feel like you fit in... It won't always be like this and if you give it time you'll find your place just like he did.

☘️But this is Michael we're talking about, he bottles all that shit up. Doesn't say a word to you, just watches you and feels that familiar uncertainty curdling inside him. All these things he wants to say and he can't bring himself to say it. He gets anxious because what if he's got you all wrong what if its not like that for you at all.

☘️ In the end its Polly who tells him he should try to get to know you, "you were like her once you know... She could do with a good lad like you to show her a little kindness... Its a cruel world Michael, if you don't nobody else will..."

☘️ So then he feels guilty too. Has to swallow his anxiety whenever you're around. It takes all his will to make himself sit down next to you, to say hello, to keep trying even when you only offer him the smallest of smiles in response.

☘️ But he's a mothers boy isn't he, so what Pol wants Pol gets and she wants him to try so he bloody well tries. And besides, he feels a connection with you, he's felt one from the very first time he saw you in the Garrison with his cousin Ada. He doesnt know whether you feel it to, in fact he knows you probably dont. He feels close to you because he thinks he knows how you feel.

☘️Eventually he gets up the courage to talk to you properly. He finds the whole thing absolutely painful and mortifying, trying to tell you how he used to be like you, so he thinks he understands.

☘️ You can sense how hard he's trying though and that means a lot to you, and you're honestly surprised too because for as much as he's reserved around you, you've seen him with other people, you've seen him charming the girls at the Garrison and you know the reputation he has is as bad as his cousins. So you're surprised when he tells you about his childhood shyness and how it took him a long time to feel accepted anywhere.

☘️ Its encouraging, the way he talks about it too, like its this thing that used to be a huge problem in his life but isn't anymore. You find it reassuring to know that you might not feel this way forever. That one day you too might feel accepted and comfortable enough to talk freely and take up space.

☘️ You don't realise, though you should, that its Michael and his family that are going to make you feel that way. That it will be him that treats you with the warmth and patience that you need to make you feel at home.

☘️ You pluck up the courage to say something to him a few days later, youve wanted to say something to him since he spoke so empathetically and gently to you, its been all you could think of, how to say it, when you'll say it, if he'll even know what you're doing talking about because its been awhile now and he's probably forgotten he even said anything to you at all ect ect... Youre riddled with the anxiety of saying something to him and the more you think about it the worse it gets.

☘️ But you do manage it, even if all you actually say is, "Thank you... For..." when you trail off you expect him to cut you off but he doesn't, he just smiles softly and watches you carefully, trying to work out if you are going to finish your sentence or not. When you stammer and cut yourself off again he puts his hand on your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

☘️ "s'alright love, i understand, come on come sit, just me and you, try again in a minute eh?"

☘️ At first the way things develop between you its like he's a big brother to you, he takes you under his wing, protects and guides you as though making up for the sister he lost.

☘️ He spends a lot of his time with you, and whenever he sees you around he makes time to talk to you, or not talk to you depending on how he feels like you're feeling.

☘️ You have this unspoken connection, sometimes all it takes is a look from you and he knows exactly what you're thinking/feeling.

☘️The more you spend your time with him the more able to talk you are and he's so pleased and proud that you look to him in the way that you do, that he is one of the only people in the city who gets the blessing of hearing your voice, getting to know you intimately through conversation.

☘️He's especially pleased to know things about you that Tommy doesn't, that you trust him and nobody else. That without him you'd be lost.

☘️ Gets jealous if you do start speaking to someone else and has to remind himself that actually this is what he wants. For you to grow and become your authentic self not hiding or fearing being too much.

☘️ So despite his fear that once you can talk to other people you'll not need him and you'll stop wanting to speak to him, he encourages you and reassures you, tells you he's proud of you.

☘️ But of course his fears are unnecessary, you'll always look to him for comfort, company and reassurance, he'll always be the person who saw you for who you really are first. He'll always be the one who believed in you and took his time with you. And he's your best friend. And maybe you secretly want hin to be more than that.

[24hlevi]

hihi!! can i request ben (sbg) x male reader with social anxiety and bad vision? headcannons please :)

as someone with both social anxiety and bad vision i felt this was made for me, thank you for requesting 🫡

— GOT ANXIETY?

ben clark (sbg) x male!reader

warnings/tags: language, established relationship, mention of anxiety attacks

• having social anxiety wasn't very fun, especially at school where you were constantly surrounded by other people who could judge you or say something behind your back

• thankfully, ben was very helpful with things to help calm you down if you were having an anxiety attack, while he won't say anything, his presence is enough to help you

• also with your bad eyesight, ben was helpful like making sure to bring an extra pair of reading glasses or a cleaner when you forget to bring them

• if you use contacts and hate putting them in (me) ben will totally help you put them in. did he accidentally poke you in the eye the first time? yes, but he was a master after that! however if you want colored ones like aiden he will straight up tell you no

• ben does quite a few things that help with your anxiety, especially with how perceptive he is and can notice when you're starting to freak out. his first resort is grabbing your hand and gently rubbing his thumb on your skin, which usually works when he can see the beginning of your freak out, then if that doesn't work he ends up dragging you to a private area so you can panic alone without anyone to see, if that doesn't work, well then he just sits in the bathroom with you and calmly rubs your back

• ben remembers what sparks your anxiety, he has a little note in his phone of all the things that could possibly cause an anxiety attack of some kind, so he can easily tell when it's happening

• ben understands your social anxiety, so he tries not to have aiden around you all the time since that boy is a terrible person to be around if you have social anxiety seeing as he has none, and if you're hanging out with the group ben tries to keep you as included as possible without freaking you out by aiden's insanity

• ben is 100% a nap taker to avoid stress/anxiety PROVE ME WRONG. he will totally take naps with you if you want to help with your anxiety and bro will sleep for hours if you don't set an alarm

• plus he loves spending time with you without others so it's perfect for him and you :]

• ben uses his text to speech to try and help give you calming advice when you're having anxiety, but the default voice it talks in makes you laugh every time and forget what you were anxious about. ben has thought about changing it but if it helps you, he keeps it the way it is

• social anxiety sucks at school, and the group are basically your personal guard dogs with ben beside you making sure no one even glances at you weird or else there's 6 angry teens looking 😑at them

• it's even worse if you go out in public somewhere with the group, cause if there's any slightest thing that starts to give you anxiety they all are asking what's wrong, if you need anything, etc. while ben just stands there like ☺️ cause he's so glad you're getting along with his friends

• ben is a 10/10 boyfriend and he proves that every day by reminding you to put your contacts in or take them out before bed, cooking you your favorite foods once you get home from school if it was a bad day, and spending time with you 24/7 are just a few of the things