#slash oneshot

[duffslut]

Don't touch my hair!

Slash x Reader

My Masterlist.

Word Count: 292

Warnings: Fluff!

Slash was lying on the bed with his head resting in your lap, it was one of the rare moments when he was distracted enough to allow you to run your hands through the curls of his hair.

Your fingers caressed his hair until you got distracted and pulled a strand a little too hard.

- Damn it! Are you fucking trying to kill me? - Slash asked, abruptly lifting his head from your lap.

- Nooo. - You apologized, trying to go after your boyfriend but he sat sullenly on the bed. - I'm sorry baby. - You whispered in his ear. - You don't need to be mad.

Slash whined like a spoiled baby, crossing his arms and pulling away from you every time you tried to get close to him. You muttered a curse to yourself, it sounded silly but you were obsessed with your boyfriend's hair, and he was too vain of it to let anyone run a hand through his soft, fragrant curls.

  He kept his features straight and his brows furrowed, not moving.

- I'll take care of it. - You said, and then you give Slash a careful peck on the head, as if to heal a wound. - Tell me where it hurts. - You asked, getting closer and closer to him carefully.

Slash put his hand on his head, where you had accidentally pulled his hair, he made a sly pout and you nodded, saying nothing, just running your fingers through his hair more carefully than ever and whispering some sweet words in your boyfriend's ear, who little by little, seemed to be relaxed again.

- Come baby, lay down here. -You said, asking Slash to rest his head on your thighs again, and he did. - I love taking care of you, my spoiled kitty.

[ginsengkittensecondary]

I HAVE MOVED TO MY MAIN. PLEASE FOLLOW GINSENGKITTEN <3

“His large, rough hands adorned with rings, tenderly kissing the strings.”

*this is my very first gnr/slash fic. I’m not proofreading it either it’s just something for the depraved slash girlies*

✰ TEACHERS PET ✰

slashxreader

✰slash!xfem!/age!gap/praise kink/daddy issues/extreme!smut/NSFW ✰

Did not narrow down slashes age here. Anywhere from 40-current age- left up to reader

Because of your "fading talent", your dad thought it would be best to force you into guitar lessons. He told you if you took lessons seriously, that he wouldn't make you get a job. Guitar was your job.

You never resented guitar playing. It was your first love. You knew you were good at it. You could lose yourself in playing and the world would disappear. And you didn't want to disappoint your dad. You constantly felt like you weren't meeting his expectations of being some sort of renowned guitar player. But you knew nothing else and felt good at nothing else but guitar. It felt like you're only option as a career path.

Your dad worked in the music industry for over 20 years. He saw the success that could come from being a musician. He had connections and everyone knew him and he knew everyone. You remember tagging along in and out sporadically throughout growing up. It was just the two of you. You had met cool bands and musicians and other famous figure heads. While it was "cool", you also didn't care much as it had monopolized your childhood. Long nights, early flights, the rush of recording studios, backstages, waiting around on your dad in meetings. Probably sometimes being in places not meant for a kid. You became indifferent and tired.

But now you were older and the expectations of you were even more elevated. Your dad wanted more from you. You weren't sure if it was for profit or fame anymore for him. He never seemed quite satisfied and never gave any sort of clear affirmation.

-

You hopped out of the blacked out suburban with your equipment. Your dad closing the door behind you. You stepped into the cold night air. A shiver ran up your exposed legs under your skirt. Although a brisk walk from the parking garage to the recording studio, you wished you had dressed a little warmer. But dressing like a rockstar wasn't for wimps! You liked to model your style after female rockstars you had met growing up but always ended up just looking like some little groupie.

The recording studio was more or less an old penthouse with a recording area built in one of the rooms. It was nice but had this eerie grungy appearance that made it seem like it could have been a trap house in the 80s. While you tried your best to fit the role, you looked like you didn't belong there. Even your dad looked cooler than you. Suddenly you started to feel insecure. As you walked down the dark hallway inside, music became louder as the smell of cigarettes did too. A hazy light shone through a cracked door at the end of the hallway. Was this a guitar lesson or a concert? Your dad pushed through the door and you followed tucked behind him timidly. Immediately old friends of your dads excitedly gave him greetings and hugs complete with hearty slaps on the backs. You stood there nervously clutching your guitar. "You guys remember my daughter, Y/N!" Your dad announced you, stepping back to reveal you hidden behind him. Your cover suddenly exposed. "Well I'll be damned! If it isn't Y/N!" They all exclaimed happily. A scruffy man with blond hair embraced you fatherly and gave you a small gentle noogie on your head. "Man look at this kid! Haven't seen you since you were what, 12! Look at you all grown up now!" He said simultaneously exchanging his eyes from you to your dad. You grinned sheepishly embarrassed at the attention in the room on you. Guns n Roses. Man they were so fucking cool. You'd met them a few times growing up when your dad worked with them off and on. This part of his job was pretty cool. It was more like family friends than the world famous rock legends. Except when you were younger, the barrier between you and them was bigger. Your dad shielding you from the crazy drunken scraps, sessions and other rockstar mischief. You'd meet and then your dad would leave you with his assistant in another office or the tour bus while he fucked around with the guys elsewhere. But now you were an adult like them! You finally got to be on the inside. In the ring with the rockstars. This made you even more intimidated. 'Am I getting lessons from rockstars?' You panicked to yourself. Suddenly completely doubting your skill at all. They can't see you play! They'll laugh for sure. There's no way.

The music playing on the speaker suddenly changed to a softer tempo, "She Rides" by Danzig started playing. The slow intro intertwined with the dark atmosphere of the studio. Dark purple velvet curtains limply hung from the ceilings, old trunks full of excess junk and costume attire, records plastered the walls, the only light in the room glowing from dim warm lamps throughout the room. It felt safe and comfortable in here, like an old theatre. Cigarette smoke danced through the warm glow of the lamps.

The feeling of eyes on you started burning the back of your head. Someone was watching you. You turned your head to the left corner of the studio. A broad shoulder man sat open legged on a old couch and became illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp. The smoke trailed from his full lips out from under his dark full curls decorating his tan face. He had remained quiet and out of frame when the greetings went on. You dad shooting the shit with the other men in the room.

It's Slash. Your heart beat a little quicker in your chest. Oh my god of course, how could I forget SLASH! You became suddenly star struck for a brief moment. He was the GOD of guitar. He's so badass and he's so talented and he's....staring..at me? Your thoughts left your head. You felt his gaze on you like you were being hunted. Like his prey? You tried to examine him back, thinking you were being inconspicuous. His luscious curls sat atop his large broad frame, shirt slightly tight across his massive chest. His legs spread open as he relaxed into the couch like a lazy king on a throne. A cigarette pursed between his soft lips as he strummed a guitar. He kept his eyes on you, strumming without even looking. His large, rough hands adorned with rings, tenderly kissing the strings.

"Your new guitar teacher!"

You snapped into reality. "What?" You responded sounding a little more eager than you wanted to but so in disbelief. " Slash was kind enough to lend his time to you. You remember him right?" Your dad said flippantly. He walked over to the couch, harshly scooting you along with him. No fucking chance. You tried to lock back in and play it cool. Slash lifted his guitar off his lap and set it aside. He leaned forward on the couch to greet you. His gaze on you now more apparent and obvious. He scanned you up and down. "Well look who's all grown up." He said in a teasing but serious manner. He half smirked at you. You weren't sure how he intended that to come across but the way it landed made your stomach flutter and your cheeks flush. "I've been told you're quite the player these days" He said, still scanning you. Was everyone else in the room so oblivious to the electricity unfurling? Or was it just you? Was his blatant hungry gaze all in your head because you wanted it to be real? Because you wanted slash to think you were pretty? Because you thought he was attractive? No. It was real. His primal gaze on your body was definitely real. How was everyone else missing this? The energy in the room? Did your dad not realize the borderline dangerous fixation that slash's eyes cast on you? You snapped back again, remembering why you were there.

What you yourself were oblivious to was the fact that his eyes had locked onto you the second you entered the room. Not recognizing the delicate girl who looked like a brand new doll getting thrown into a junkyard. She stuck out like an Angel to him. Her soft and bright features contrasted the worn out room. She looked pretty but young. How young? Who was this girl? This wasn't Y/N was it? His friends daughter he had agreed to tutor although half drunk at the time of his agreement. It couldn't be her, this girl here now was grown up and filled out. He couldn't help but pour his eyes over her entire body. Her soft and smooth legs, her thighs tucked under a little black leather skirt that hugged her hips so perfectly. A nice little ass under there too. God she was perfect. His pants grew a little tighter. He couldn't stop looking at her. She's like a timid little bunny, he thought to himself. Too timid. Too young. Need to check yourself, he snapped back into reality as she walked over to the couch. It was Y/N. Wow- She had to have been 19 or 20 by now if he remembered right. Still, what would a bright young girl like herself want with a old man like him? He steadied himself. Remember why she's here. She's not your next meal. Yet.

-

It was nearly midnight at the studio. But to everyone in the music industry it might as well have been 5'o clock in the afternoon. The night just getting started to most. After and hour or two of your dad catching up with the guys and some other musicians, the penthouse became filled with people. This was one of your average studio parties it seemed. Not so much a lesson. You did wonder why the lesson was so late at night in the first place. Now it was apparent that your dad had wanted to party with the crews and the lesson was a back burner idea. You were not really a partier. In fact not at all. As the party began to rage louder and heavier, the more you stuck out like a sore thumb. You felt silly and out of place. Surrounded by drunk messy adults, heavy metal blaring through the sound system. Everyone had filtered out of the studio and you sat on the couch once occupied by Slash earlier in the night. His peppery, musky cologne lingered on the couch, it smelled so good. He smelled so good. You couldn't stop seeing the image of his face in your mind. The depraved, hungry stare he had locked onto you earlier. It simultaneously struck butterflies and fear into your body. Your dad had disappeared into the party and it honestly gave you relief that he wasn't there to hover over you, casting shadows of his disappointment in you through every undertone of every word he spoke. Technically though, that did mean you could practice without anyone's judgement.

You began unpacking your guitar on the floor, checking the strings, your picks, your sheet music. You put your headphones on and turned on none other than Guns N' Roses. Trying to drown out the heavy metal playing in the other rooms. You hummed to yourself while you fiddled with your things.

Moments later, the door opened slowly and slash entered. He was alone, holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He immediately saw you over the corner by his favorite spot. He quietly shut the door behind him and made his way to the couch. Seeing you oblivious to his gaze, he quietly studied you from the couch. His thoughts once again snaking their way through impure desires. The way your reddened knees held you on the floor. A small glimpse of cotton panties poking out from under your skirt. Your thighs curving across your calves like a puzzle piece. He watched the way your delicate small hands tried to handle the far too oversized guitar laid across your lap. Fuck she's so cute he thought. He could hear the GNR song "Think about you" playing from your headphones. Unaware you weren't alone, you softly chirped out a few lyrics to yourself as you hummed.

"I think about youuuu, deep inside, I love you best."

He let out a breathy chuckle

"I think about youuuu, you know you're the one I want..."

He could watch you in your own world forever like this. Your sweetness enveloped the room. A breath of fresh air he had been craving for so long. It made his heart pound in his chest. He licked his lips. Studying his student. The adoration danced with a dark and perverse stream of wishes. To get closer to you. To feel your warmth and inhale your sweet scent. To touch you. Your soft and delicate skin. To have you. He had to have you. He left the couch and stood behind you. The light from one of the lamps now being shaded threw you out of your little world and you slowly turned around in confusion.

"Oh my god!" You yipped out in a fast spool of fear, embarrassment and shock. You twirled back to him on your knees. His tall dark body towered over you like a monolith. He smirked big. Looked down at you on your knees in front of him sent aches down his chest and into his abdomen. It drove him crazy. It was exactly where he wanted you if it were up to him. Your innocent eyes peering up to him. Your fear almost adding a little bit of extra sweetness to him. You looked so cute to him when you were scared. You quickly took off your headphones. "Didn't mean to scare you doll face." He chuckled maliciously. You hesitated to believe that was true.

Suddenly Slash broke the thin barrier of space that had been aching to be ripped apart between the two of you. His large strong hands wrapped around your small wrists and he yanked you on your feet. At full stature you still only met his sternum in height, still peering up at him. The warmth of his strong hands touching your skin shocked you in the best way. Deep swirls pooling inside you. His scent now strong in your presence. You were so close to him. Almost body to body. Your doe eyes glittered up at him. He let out a slight huff as his serpent stare connected with you once again. Like a hungry animal. "This perfect body. I need to ruin her pretty cunt. Fuck me..." he thought. He glanced down at your chest concealed in your tight shirt and then back to your face, know you saw him do it too. He wanted you to see. A slight curl of his lips as he did it. His big hands still wrapped around your dainty wrists. You slightly try to pull them away as to relieve him of his duty to help you up but his grasp tightens and his lips curl. "You've grown up little bunny" he broke the thick silence in his scratchy and deep voice. Giving one more soul stealing stare and he let you go before you could reply. He sat on the couch, resuming his king like pose. He took a drag from his cigarette and sucked the smoke into his nose. Staring at you as he slowly let the smoke trickle out of his lips and nose. God did he know what he was doing? Fuck he was so hot you thought. You wanted to just climb on top of him and steal the smoke right out from his mouth. "So I've been told" you sneer back. "And you're sassy now too? Tsk tsk" he clicked jokingly. "So.." you ignore his quip. "When do I get this lesson of yours?" You ask earnestly. His eyebrow raises. Was that a serious question? He thought. The innocent and curious nature of your voice. He tried to ignore his pants becoming more uncomfortably tight again. He placed a guitar over his lap and strummed to hide anything. "I have a couple things I could teach you little bunny."

You wondered if his statement was two folded or if you were just imagining things. The conversation could have easily been interpreted as normal to an unsuspecting person. So your reply you camouflage in case his intention isn't what you thought. "I want to learn so many things. I'll be the best student. I promise" you say sweetly. That drives him crazy. This girl knows what she's doing doesn't she? He thought. He thinks on a reply before saying anything. Combing his mind to think what the next move is here. Calculating.

Everything else falls away and you deem it in this moment to finally have something YOU want for a change. No more expectations. If it fails it fails but it's not like you lose anything. It's not like anyone cares, let alone this massive superstar in front of you who can have anyone he wants.

Your need for his touch makes you brave and you trace your fingers over his as he plays. He doesn't stop at this though but glances at you. "I can be a real good student, Slash." You coo to him in exactly the right tone to drive him crazy. This now stops him. Hearing his name escape your perfect lips. He needs to have you. All to himself. As soon as possible. He traces his ring decorated fingers over yours on the neck of the guitar. You hover your face at the head of it. His fingers slowly snake up the neck. He takes a final pause before connecting with your skin once again. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. Goosebumps explode across your arms. The tip of his thumb dips into your mouth, he rests it atop your tongue. "Sweet girl" he whispers gravelly. He doesn't know your slit is wet with eagerness just as you don't know his cock is throbbing with excitement. He removes his thumb slowly from your mouth and grips your jaw with his robust hand. He pulls your face forward to him. "Do you want to be a good girl for me Y/N?" His hand tightly gripping your face. You ignited something inside him. You awoke something so primitive. He set his guitar aside and you quickly took its place on his lap. Your light warm weight resting on his crotch. You felt his bulge already at full extent. It felt good against your panties. You give it a slight grind as you secure yourself on top of his lap. He lets out a low sharp groan and gently throws his head back, leaving his thick neck open for the taking. You start peppering small kisses up his neck. His warm silver scruff brushes against your lips as his jaw clenches. You meet his ear.

"I want to be your good girl Slash." You whisper in his neck. You felt him throb underneath your wet panties.

He needs to fuck you. You were like a precious gem to be scrounged after. He wanted all of you. He needed to make you his. To own you entirely.

Climbing him like a jungle gym. He pulls you back with your hair in his fist. He grips your face again tighter this time and makes you look at him.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks.

"Please" You cry.

-

You lock the door The air seems to leave the room. Is this really happening? What's happening? Does he just want to fool around? To kiss me? To fuck me? God I need him to fuck me. Your thoughts raced at the reality before you.

Suddenly his hands snake around your waist. His warmth flush against your back. You let out a small gasp of surprise and pleasure. His large hand grips your entire neck tilting it to the side. He sprinkles gentle kisses down your neck and you let out a sigh of pleasure. "I'm going to ruin you Y/N. You know that?" He cooed. "I'm going to make that pretty cunt of yours mine." He taunted. You let out a whimper.

I want to ravish her but at the same time I feel like I could break her in half at a single touch. He thought.

Fuck it. I need to have her."

You become blind with pleasure and melt into his arms. Still gripping your neck. He walks you both backward and falls back on the couch, towing you onto his lap. Still behind you, he fists your hair in his hand and the other travels down to your thighs. You get increasingly needy for more. You grind your ass on his lap. His ringed fingers tease up your inner thigh. "You ready to be a good little bunny for me?" He affirms one more time before letting himself go feral on your body.

"Please Slash"

"Please what baby? Use your words honey"

"Please fuck me. I need you. Please." You whine.

That was all the confirmation he needed. He just wanted to hear you say it again. Hearing you beg for him pushed him over the edge. He grips your hair tightly again. Ensuring your neck is wide open. He is suddenly completely animal. He dives into your neck and collar, this time his kisses are many and messy. He bites your neck. You whimper louder this time and he moans into your neck in reply. "That's its sweet girl. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours" he pants

His fistful of your hair, guiding your neck open. His other hand slides up your skirt and finds your panties.

"My little bunny is already wet? That's a good girl." He praises into your ear from behind. You arch your hips into his hand. Needing more.

"Needy girl, aren't you?"

His hand moves from your hair to your breast. His large hand completely covering it. He gives it a strong squeeze and then slips it underneath your shirt and bra. You gasp as you feel his rough hand hold you. He loves the way your tits feel. Grinding your ass on his lap he begins rubbing circles on your panties. Right where it feels so good.

"I've wanted to do this since the minute you walked in tonight. In your tight little skirt. It drove me crazy." He whispers with hot breath on your ear. Still working his hands simultaneously on you. He shoves his hand into your panties and starts toying with your soaked cunt.

"So wet for me huh dollface?" He grins feeling his way through your warm folds. He hikes you up higher on himself and enters a finger inside you.

"Oh fuck Slash." You moan.

"Spread those pretty legs for me doll"

"This pretty pussy is mine now, you understand?" He growls in your ear. His hands so muscular and talented, he effortlessly slides in and out of your pussy while making perfect pinches on your nipple simultaneously. The years of guitar playing shining through his fingers. He plays you. His thrusts feel so fucking good inside you. You grind down on his fingers, he holds you tight in his arms like a wild animal trying to squirm. You grind your ass back on his cock, feeling his size through his jeans. He groans. "I need to see that pretty cunt". He exits you and places you on the couch facing outward and he kneels before you. He lays you back and grabs your legs and pulls you forward to his face. He carelessly flips your skirt up and hikes it over your hips, exposing your panties underneath.

"You don't need these anymore" he says. You raise your hips as he slides your panties down and off your legs. The cool air washes over your exposed bottom.

Now bare, he spreads your legs open wide and looks at your pussy as he prepares to dine on it like a wolf with fresh meat. "Such a pretty cunt" he gives it a slap and before you can fully react to the surprise or pain, his face disappears into your legs. His warm tongue glides right into your pussy.

"Oh fuck." You moan softly. You can't think straight. You lace your fingers into his thick curls.

Heavy rock muffles in the background but all you focus in on is the sounds of his lips on yours. He eats you like a savage. He looks up at you through dark eyes and flattens his whole tongue up your pussy in one long stroke.

"You taste so good baby."

You whimper. You need more. He looks at you with hooded dark eyes. He needed more.

He stands up and unbuckles his belt. You sit up on your knees and take over. Your hands stop his own and you look up at him. "Can I do it please?" You almost beg. He takes no time to think on that and allows you to continue. Your eyes line with his tanned happy trail peeking out from under his shirt. You dip your fingers into his waistline and feel a massive warm shaft. The other hand pulling down his waistline. You free his throbbing cock. It glistens along its thick veins. The girth is incredible. You waste no time and lick the pre cum off the tip. That send him into a craze. He tips his head back and groans loudly. "Fuck baby. Be a good girl for me." He commands. You take him in your mouth -or try to. He's so big but you manage to take it all in down to the back of your throat. You gag slightly on its size. He tastes so good. You Bob your head up and down. Swiping your tongue all over in a messy fashion. He fists your hair again and starts guiding your head on his hard cock. He lets out a deep hiss and pants faster.  You look up and see the muscles in his throat clenching. He looks down at you as he continues thrusting into you. "That's a good girl. That's such a good girl" he pants in disbelief and pleasure. Sweat beads down his face. Tears well in your eyes as you choke on his size. Giving a few last hard thrusts he slips himself out of your mouth and caresses your messy spit covered face. Looking at you on your knees if front of his cock, the hungry look on your face. It makes him throb. It's almost painful. "Lay down baby" he says. You obey and lay back vertically on the couch. He removes his pants and shirt, exposing a muscular yet softly toned and tan abdomen, decorated with a large tattoo across his stomach. He then leans over and removes your shirt and bra. All that remained was the small leather skirt riding up your waist more like a sash than a skirt now. He hovers over you, his necklaces hanging from him. He opens your legs and gives his cock and few pumps before teasing your soft wet entrance. "Look how sweet you look." He smirked devilishly. "Please fuck me slash" you beg. He grits his teeth out of pleasure to hear those words come from your mouth. Hours earlier this was nothing but a perverted fantasy in his mind. But now he had you, naked underneath him. Ready for his cock. He leaned down to your face and gripped it once more. His hand on your face, he licked your breasts briefly. You try to tip your head back but he forces it forward. " Look right at me honey. Right here. Let me see that pretty face as I fuck you. Are you ready? You're so ready." He grumbles out. He smiles at you, a painful grip on your face, forcing you to look straight at him. His tip brushes the leaking wetness from your pussy all around like a paintbrush. And then slowly he slides his cock in.

You want to squint your eyes shut in pleasure, he gives your head a firm shake to remind you to look at him "I know baby I know." He growls. He himself tries to control his voice through his own searing pleasure. You whimper loudly

"Oh fuck Slash oh my god" You sharply inhale and whine out.

"That's it little bunny, let me hear your pretty voice".

He coos as he begins thrusting in and out of your wet hole. His grunts vibrate your body. His thrusts rock your body like ocean waves. He begins a faster rhythm almost If only to watch your breasts sway up and down with each thrust. His stance towering over you.

You continue letting out moans. Your moans are like honey to him. Weakening his limits with each sweet cry out.

"Oh that's a good girl taking my cock." He coos again.

"Slash I can't-" words fail you. You begin feeling a familiar tenseness overtake your body. 

"Is my pretty girl going to cum out of her pretty cunt?" He teases.

His rhythm increases. His rough skin slapping agains your soft supple skin. Sweat drips down his tanned abdomen. The power of each thrust inside of you increasing.

He feels your wet walls tightening around his cock. Looking down at you getting fucked by him- he was close too.

"Slash I'm-" you moan

"Be a good girl and cum for me doll-face. Look at me, look at me."

"That's it, you can do it" he encourages before tipping over his own edge. His grunts louder and more animal. His chains sway above you. He slaps against you. His brow furrows and his sweaty curls drape along his face as he pants like a dog in heat.

The bittersweet finale of stars bursts throughout your body. Your pussy tightens over his cock once more in ecstasy.

"Oh that's such a good girl" he grunts as he also reaches his breaking point. He releases hot white spurts inside of your quivering cunt.

A loud grunt leaves his throat. His large cock twitches inside you, finishing you off with pure pleasure. He smiles still thrusting inside you. Shoving his cum deeper inside

"That's a good girl, take it. Take it all." he whispers

The wetness leaks out of you as he pulls out. You both panting for air.

"God you're beautiful. You're perfect" He says breathlessly. He looks at his disheveled masterpiece below him. Completely braindead fucked. You blush hard. A shyness making its way back to your senses. He continues eyeing you. He softens his hand on your face, thumbing your cheek gently.

He protectively dotes on you as he helps re dress you again. Taking pride in taking care of you like this. You feel satisfied yet silly. You blush as he finishes and smooths him hand down your hair. "I own you." He whispers.

To him. The most beautiful girl was now his and his alone. He felt prideful and protective of his girl. He didn't want anyone else here to even glance at you. You were too sweet and kind for a place like this. Parts of him questioned his own morality for corrupting something so delicate. But he was too far gone.

He had unlocked the door with luckily no one having tried to find them in the past hour. In precise timing, axl drunkenly stumbled through the studio door. "Studying guiar at a time like this?" He slurred.

"Careful now girlie or you'll end up the teachers pet."

"Alright fuck off" Slash Ushered him out the door and closed it. He locked it again.

You sat embarrassed on the couch and he sat next to you.

"You are a little teachers pet aren't you?" He smirked.

[zapreportsblog]

You know the “opposites attract” relationships?

How about do one with Brahms?

Brahms - clingy, protective, stiff

Reader - calm, trusting, soft

Brahms X calm! Reader

Thank youuuuu :)

❝clingy❞

✭ pairing : brahms heelshire x reader

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : brahms is one hell of a touch starved man and when (y/n) came into his life he expected her to be just like all the others, but she isn’t. In fact she embraces him with welcome arms so does that mean all those people who left him are because it’s his fault?

✭ slashers masterlist

The wind whispered through the ancient trees that surrounded Heelshire Manor, casting eerie shadows on its aged façade. (Y/N) had applied for a simple job months ago, never imagining how peculiar her new role would become. The advertisement had called for a caretaker, someone to oversee the estate's unique collection of antiques and curiosities. Little did she know, her main charge would be a doll of all things.

The first time she laid eyes on the doll, she was taken aback. It was an exquisitely crafted replica of a man, dressed in aristocratic attire from a bygone era. The porcelain face bore an uncanny resemblance to the owner of the manor, Brahms Heelshire, whose family had owned the estate for generations. The locals whispered tales of the Hellshire curse, and their peculiar fascination only fueled the sense of mystery that hung over the manor.

As (Y/N) settled into her role, her days were filled with dusting ancient furniture, polishing silverware, and, most importantly, attending to the doll. The instructions were simple: ensure the doll's clothing remained impeccable, the porcelain visage remained pristine, and its position on the mantel stayed undisturbed. The task was mundane, yet it carried an air of reverence, as if the doll held some deeper significance that transcended its appearance.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) gradually grew accustomed to her routine. The mansion's interior was an amalgamation of faded opulence and eerie silence. The walls seemed to whisper secrets, and the portraits of long-departed Heelshire ancestors stared down with solemn gazes. Every creak and rustle echoed through the hallways, keeping her senses on high alert.

One evening, as she carefully adjusted the doll's coat collar, she felt an inexplicable shiver run down her spine. A feeling of being watched settled over her, but she brushed it off as her imagination running wild. That night, though, as she lay in bed, she could have sworn she heard faint whispers carried on the breeze.

The following days brought a series of odd occurrences: a book left open to a specific page she hadn't touched, a teacup shifted slightly on its saucer. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was playing tricks on her, but each time she looked around, the empty rooms offered no answers.

It was on the night of a thunderstorm that everything changed. Lightning illuminated the mansion's darkened interior, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. (Y/N) found herself drawn to the doll, her fingers tracing its delicate features in the dim light.

And then, as the thunder roared and rain beat against the windows, she heard a whisper so faint it might have been her own imagination. "(Y/N)…" The voice seemed to emanate from within the doll itself.

Startled, she stumbled back, her heart racing. But then, as if responding to an unseen presence, the doll's eyes blinked. A shock of realization coursed through her: the doll was no mere doll; it was a conduit to something more.

"(Y/N)…" The voice was clearer this time, resonating through the room. She watched in awe as the doll's porcelain skin began to soften, its limbs shifting, as if a dormant life was awakening.

And then, from the doll's heart, a figure emerged. A man, dressed in period clothing, stood before her, his eyes fixed upon her with a mix of curiosity and caution. It was Brahms Heelshire himself, or a spectral semblance of him.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other in silence. (Y/N) was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, her heart pounding in her chest. But amidst the shock and fear, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

The man, or whatever he was, spoke softly, his voice tinged with both melancholy and yearning. "You did not flee, as others before you have. Why?"

With a steady breath, (Y/N) met his gaze. "I believe that even the most peculiar of situations deserve a chance to be understood. And, in all honesty, I've grown fond of the company, even if it's a doll or a spectral form."

A ghostly smile touched his lips, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "You’re courageous , (Y/N)."

And so, an unusual connection was forged within the walls of Heelshire Manor — a connection that transcended the boundaries between the living and the spectral. As (Y/N) continued her role as caretaker, the enigmatic Brahms Heelshire ventured forth from his hidden existence within the doll, revealing himself to her in a way no one else had dared to witness.

Over the course of the next few months and then two years, an unexpected bond blossomed between (Y/N) and Brahms. As the seasons changed, so did their relationship, evolving into something far beyond what (Y/N) could have ever anticipated. She had become accustomed to Brahms' spectral presence, his masked face a constant companion. Despite his initial mysterious aura, she found comfort in his company and the intriguing conversations they shared.

Brahms, for his part, reveled in the connection he had forged with (Y/N). No longer confined to the doll's form, he wandered the mansion's halls and rooms, always keeping a respectful distance from her. Yet, he was undeniably clingy, often hovering nearby, his presence an unspoken reassurance. His touch starvation, accumulated over years of isolation, drove him to seek her proximity. Whether it was watching her read in the library or tending to the mansion's gardens, he was there, his masked face silently observing.

Their bond deepened, and with time, their relationship took an unexpected turn. The unspoken attraction that had simmered between them evolved into a romantic connection. Their feelings grew steadily, and one evening, as the sun set over the mansion's sprawling gardens, Brahms removed his mask, revealing his disfigured face to (Y/N). She met his gaze without flinching, accepting him just as he was.

They became a couple, their connection forged in the quiet moments they shared, the lingering glances, and the touch of their hands. (Y/N) found herself drawn to his vulnerability and complexity, and he was captivated by her acceptance and compassion.

However, even as their relationship thrived, an undercurrent of unease began to surface. Brahms, though no longer confined to the doll, remained deeply afraid of losing (Y/N). His history of people fleeing from his presence had left scars that ran deep. His clinginess intensified, a silent plea for her to stay by his side.

As the months turned into years, Brahms' fear only grew. He watched as (Y/N) went about her daily routines, her calm demeanor seemingly unfazed by his constant presence. Yet, he couldn't shake the thought that his clinginess might drive her away. The fear of rejection gnawed at him, an invisible specter that haunted his every interaction with her.

One evening, as they sat by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting shadows on the walls, Brahms hesitated before speaking. "I fear that my need for your presence might become unbearable," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

(Y/N) turned to him, her eyes soft and understanding. "Brahms, you're not driving me away. I'm here because I choose to be. Your presence doesn't suffocate me; it's become a comfort."

He looked at her with a mix of hope and trepidation, struggling to believe her words. "But I'm constantly clinging to you, fearing that you might vanish like the others."

Gently, she reached out and took his hand. "Brahms, you're not alone anymore. I'm not going anywhere. We'll face your fears together."

A fragile smile graced his lips as he intertwined his fingers with hers, the weight of his vulnerability lessening, if only by a fraction. With her steady presence by his side, he dared to hope that he could overcome his past and embrace the happiness that had entered his life.

Their journey was far from easy, but with time, patience, and unwavering support, (Y/N) and Brahms forged a love that transcended the boundaries of the living and the spectral. And through it all, they learned that sometimes, the most profound connections are born from the places where fear and acceptance collide.

[hoarding-stories]

Please don't let any of these guys die fixing this

[pekeleke]

The Two Left Feet Approach.

Author: pekeleke Rating: G. Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Harry Potter. Challenge: N/A Word Count: 2437 Content: One-sided pining. Getting together. Birthday fic. Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and the HP franchise as a whole are owned by JKR and not by me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction. Summary: "I'm not drunk. Or drugged. Or cursed. I haven't made a bet with anyone or have plans to humiliate you. I just— I like you, Snape. A lot. And I'm here to— to- er- I don't know. Wish you a happy birthday, I guess." A/N: Written in celebration of Severus Snape's birthday. Have a lovely day, Severus! ❤️

Read On AO3

Read On Dreamwidth

[slashsslutx]

Introduction

Name : Jackson , Lithium [ Nicknames include: Lithi, Lith . ]

Pronouns : He/she , fem and masc terms work, but I am a guy.

<3 : GNF'R, Nirvana, Rock in general, The Outsiders, Ralph Macchio movies.

What I will write:

Fluff

Smut [ No shit, pedophillia, incest, etc. ]

Angst

Who I will write:

Guns N' Roses

Nirvana - No smut for Kurt Cobain, I will write fluff and angst, but no smut.

Metallica

Mötley Crüe

Def Leppard

Steel Panther

I don't know, literally almost any rock/metal bands 😭😭😭

I have a life outside of tumblr, so requests may be slow. I also might not do some for comfort reasons, please understand this.

Feel free to request, unless otherwise stated.

[pilotsandgays]

Surprise ;)

I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! <3

[fabuloustrash05]

10 Mona Lisa (TMNT 2012) Headcanons

Because I love her and she deserves more attention in this fandom &lt;3

After being stung by the scorpion monster, Mona now has a scar on her lower back. For the longest time she was ashamed of it, seeing it as a permanent reminder of her biggest regret and refused to let Raph know about it or even see it.

Mona is a fan of Spaceheroes. Leo is the one who got her into the show and they always watch marathons together.

Mona has a brother-sister like relationship with both Slash and Leatherhead (they’re the Mutanimals A Team). They’re always protective of her and look out for her well being.

Mona has ligyrophobia (a fear of loud noises), specifically thunder and even fireworks. It causes her to have severe panic attacks because they are similar sounding to canon fire resulting in her having PTSD, reminding her of her traumatic time while at war at a young age.

Mona’s parents were highly skilled and respected warriors on her planet. Sadly, they were killed in a battle against the Triceratons when Mona was 6 years old. After that, Sal Commander took her in and raised her as his own.

On Salamandria the people are very dedicated to fighting and the glory of battle. They live by a simple phrase: “If you can walk you can train and if you can train you can fight”. With this, Mona joined her planet’s military when she was 10 years old, but was learning how to fight and kill long before joining. By age 15 she was promoted to be Sal’s lieutenant.

Mona’s favorite earth holiday is Christmas. She loves the bright colors, the fun traditions, and the warm happy feeling it gives her. A happy day like that is nonexistent on her planet, so she appreciates every single moment of the holiday season on Earth.

No one can watch a Sci-fi movie with Mona. She always ruins it by pointing out and complaining about everything scientifically inaccurate about outer space. Spaceheroes is the only exception.

Mona and Karai have a friendly rivalry while her and April are like best friends, and her and Shini are a dangerous and chaotic duo.

Mona is a glutton, she often has a very big appetite (think of it like Saiyans from dbz). She’s actually one of the only ones who can eat and enjoys Mikey’s questionable experimental pizza recipes.

April Headcanons | Karai Headcanons | Shinigami Headcanons | Renet Headcanons | Alopex Headcanons

[olskuvallanpoe]

new fic: nothing in the world belongs to me (but my love)

anderperry, 4.3k words - angst *MCD*

summary: neil perry has never owned anything in his life, until he fell in love with todd anderson, until he discovered his passion for acting. / and then, then his father takes them both away. / [inspired by “my love mine all mine” by mitski]

[rockinglikemotley]

Country Girl x Rockstar Series! 🤍✨

Since I’m a fucking hick/ horse girl why the hell not make a fun little series of where rockstars fall for the country girl

Horses may or may not be mentioned in every single one… don’t judge me for being a horse girl y’all it’s not something I chose😩 it chose me!

Rockstars that will be falling for the horse chick:

- Nikki Sixx

- Tommy Lee

- Slash

- Izzy Stradlin

- Richie Sambora (i already have a written story about him falling for a country girl)

- Jon Bon Jovi

- Kelly Nickels

- And whoever else you want, just comment. These will most likely be the first ones out, but I will be doing the others of the bands. These may also be used in any other stories I decide to start (and not finish AHAHAH)

But I hope y’all enjoy em when they come out :)

[duffslut]

Wet Dreams

Slash x Reader

My Masterlist.

Word Count: 582

Warnings: Smut! Minors Dni.

- Slash! - You called entering the bathroom, Slash was already in the shower, his hair was already wet and somehow, he had a lit cigarette on his lips.

He turned to you as soon as you called him, you looked at your own body and only then realized that you were already without clothes.

- I... - You looked down Slash's body, taking in his muscular belly and down to his belly button. - oh my God.

You froze with your mouth open when you saw that Slash was hard, his cock had never looked so delicious as at that moment, wet, with the tip of it so pink that you licked your lips thinking about it inside your mouth.

Slash's eyes followed you as you knelt in front of him, and he ran his wet hand through your hair and held it in a ponytail.

You took one of your hands to your pussy and started masturbating as soon as you put Slash's dick in your mouth, as soon as your lips touched his cock, you got addicted, you sucked him like a candy, running your tongue along the length of his huge dick. Slash was moaning like a slut while you sucked him, you've never seen him look so hot as he moaned, the shower water fell on his body and wet your face, but you didn't care, you were close to your orgasm and Slash seemed to know it, he grabbed you by the arm and lifted you off the floor, putting your body against the wall and crouching down behind you.

Your butt checks were split and you stifled a loud groan when you felt Slash's sharp tongue touch your ass, Slash sucked you like he needed it to live, his hand gripped your ass tightly and he lifted one of your legs, getting an even better view of your pussy and your asshole.

- Tight little bitch. - Slash whispered in your ear, and you leaned your forehead against the wet wall as you felt Slash's cock break into you from behind.

You moaned louder and louder as Slash's thrusts went deeper inside you, Slash didn't stop pumping you even when you came and your cum flowed down his cock, you're too stunned to say anything, Slash has never fucked you like that, so deep, so... hungry for you.

You could tell Slash was close to coming because his dick was throbbing more and more inside you, he turned your body to face him and took you in his lap, your body was so small compared to his that his cock slid easy inside your pussy again when you were on his lap, his thrusts inside you were making you delirious, you rolled your eyes the whole time and held his wet hair when you were about to come again, you couldn't stop moaning even for a second, your mouth was inches from Slash's but he pulled away just to tease you every time you tried to kiss him.

- Come inside of me... Please Slash... Come inside of me. - You moaned over and over until Slash finally dump his load of cum inside you, so you leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes.

You were still begging for Slash's cum when you opened your eyes again, it took you a few seconds to realize your hand was inside your panties, rubbing your clit.

- I think you owe me some explanations. - Slash said, standing in the room next to the bed.

[comoelcolordelasangre]

Aziraphale está sufriendo.

One shot: Aziraphale x Crowley.

Idioma: español.

Tags: angst, fluff, comfort, romance, asexual relationship/characters.

Aziraphale está sufriendo.

Estuvo ignorando las llamadas de Crowley desde temprano.

Hoy tenía planeado un almuerzo junto a él a las doce del mediodía. Miró su muñeca, chequeando una vez más el reloj que la decoraba, marcaba las once menos cuarto, se estaba quedando sin tiempo, y lo único que hacía era recorrer toda la tienda a una velocidad preocupante, nervioso. Toqueteando libros y documentos, leyendo unas cuantas palabras por encima, títulos, índices, lo que sea que mantenga sus ojos ocupados, pues ciertamente no estaba concentrado, su mente estaba en otro lado. Trataba de pensar en una excusa para no presentarse, para no verlo. Pero Aziraphale jamás supo cómo mentir, y tampoco le gustaba mucho hacerlo. Aunque igualmente si lo hacía Crowley lo notaba.

Recientemente ocurrió un hecho que lo invadió por completo de esta preocupación que carcomía sus nervios poco a poco. La noche anterior, tuvo una pesadilla.

Soñó que se levantaba de la cama, temprano como siempre, y se dirigía al baño para comenzar su día, ocupando la rutina humana manual de la cual se había encariñado tanto. Porque la verdad es que podría estar listo con tan solo chasquear los dedos y realizar un minúsculo milagro, pero no, Aziraphale amaba tomarse el tiempo de cuidarse a sí mismo. Y algo que amaba más que nada durante este rito era liberar sus alas por unos instantes, en la privacidad de su tocador, y admirar su reflejo, recordando un poco su naturaleza, lo que es, fue y espera ser por siempre: Un ángel.

Era un sueño normal, nada por lo cual alterarse, hasta que algo distrajo la atención de Aziraphale, provocando que su visión se desviara a otra cosa; el teléfono sonaba en una esquina del tocador. Estaba recibiendo una llamada y por un milagroso presentimiento supo que se trataba de Crowley. Inconscientemente sonrió embobado y suspiró, cuando estuvo por tomar el auricular del objeto, el ruido cesó. Lo llevó a su oído y al escuchar la típica tonada de la línea inactiva volvió a colocar el auricular en su lugar. Hizo una mueca de decepción, quizá se equivocó, pensó. Luego llevó nuevamente sus ojos al reflejo frente suyo y su corazón frenó repentinamente cuando notó algo que heló por completo su sangre.

Una de sus alas tenía una mancha negra, tan negra como el petróleo, incluso mucho más... Era tan oscura que ni siquiera reflejaba la luz, al contrario, la consumía por completo, porque de eso se trataba, de su luz siendo contaminada y consumida.

Su rostro se llenó de terror y su garganta se contrajo.

Al instante, despertó.

El sueño fue tan realista que se estaba mezclando con su percepción de, justamente, la realidad. Las manchas que vio en sus alas allí mismo estaban también ocupando su mente ahora. Esta mañana, decidió romper su rutina diaria, y realizó un milagro para prepararse, estuvo evitando los espejos y cada superficie reflectiva. Tenía miedo, no quería verse, no quería saber la verdad.

O más bien, no quería aceptar la verdad...

Porque Aziraphale sabía perfectamente cuál era ésta.

Se rindió ante la búsqueda de una excusa y decidió echarse en su sofá favorito, junto a su escritorio. Se acurrucó sentado de manera informal, cosa que jamás creyó haría. Envolvió su cuerpo en una manta de piel ligera que había por allí y cerró los ojos, esperando que todo su dolor desapareciera.

Entonces pensó, su dolor, es por la verdad, si la verdad le causaba tal dolor...

¿Cuál era su dolor?

Si Aziraphale reconocía la verdad, ¿Cuál era?

¿Por qué soñó que sus alas se llenaban de oscuridad?

¿A qué le tenía miedo?

A caer. ¿A caer?

Pero... ¿Por qué caería?

Si ciertamente no hizo nada malo, solamente había recibido una llamada de...

Oh.

Era eso.

Su mayor temor actual era ser expulsado del reino de los cielos por el simple hecho de amar.

Su corazón estaba lleno de culpa por amar a...

— ¡Ángel!

— ¿Crowley...?

El atrevido demonio entró repentinamente por las puertas de la tienda, haciendo escándalo, como si fuese totalmente bienvenido, bueno... Lo cierto es que lo era, de algún modo.

Caminó hasta dónde oyó que provenía la voz del ángel, mientras parloteaba unas cuantas cosas que Aziraphale no había terminado de escuchar.

— ¿Dónde rayos estás? Te recuerdo que tuve que arruinar la carrera de un abogado para conseguir esa reserva, exactamente a la hora que tú querías. —Crowley buscó por los alrededores de la biblioteca, porque Aziraphale no respondió, sin embargo estaba seguro de que lo escuchó llamando su nombre al principio, pero no lograba ubicarlo por ningún lado... Quizás era porque no esperaba verlo envuelto en una manta con el aspecto más lamentablemente que jamás haya tenido—.

¿Ángel? —preguntó, el tono gruñón de su voz con el que había llegado cambió automáticamente a uno cargado de dulzura, confusión y... Lástima.

Aziraphale movió un poco la manta, tratando de esconderse más en ella, no miró a Crowley a los ojos en ningún momento, se mantenía observando un punto fijo en el desorden de libros que hizo por la mañana.

— ¿Qué sucede? —Crowley supo inmediatamente que algo andaba mal, pero de igual forma preguntó.

— Lo siento. —El ángel desvío la mirada, posando sus ojos en los ajenos por un segundo para soltar esa disculpa, Crowley notó la tristeza cargada en esos preciosos luceros celestes que tanto adoraba, los tenía cristalinos, al borde del llanto. Esto terminó por desgarrar completamente el alma del demonio. Apretó sus puños, y la furia empezó a tomar lugar en su cabeza.

— Si Gabriel hizo algo para herirte juro que lo mat...

— ¡No! —Interrumpió Aziraphale—. Esto no tiene que ver con él... Crowley, por favor, no hagas nada.

Esa respuesta quizás relajó un poco al demonio. Pero no era suficiente. Se acercó hasta el sofá y se arrodilló frente a él, mirando al ángel desde abajo.

— Durante estos seis mil años que llevamos juntos jamás te he visto así, Aziraphale... —Crowley se quitó los lentes y buscó la mirada del ángel con la suya, Aziraphale no quería mirarlo, pero una vez que sus ojos encontraron los del demonio, quedó completamente hipnotizado, eran tan lindos como recordaba, los había extrañado. Para los demás quizá eran un símbolo de suciedad, algo horrible digno de despreciar, pero para Aziraphale eran la cosa más hermosa que ha conocido, desde que se encontró con ellos en el Edén y no pudo disimular ni un poco lo mucho que le encantaron—. ¿Qué te sucede? No voy a dejar este lugar hasta obtener una respuesta que me satisfaga.

El ángel suspiró y volvió a llenar sus pulmones de aire con una inhalada profunda. Evitando desbordar en llanto. Se sentía abrumado pero la presencia de Crowley verdaderamente lo calmaba, y su corazón se llenaba de confianza.

— ¿Puedes hacerme... Un favor? —Se atrevió a preguntar, un poco dudoso aún, temiendo por la respuesta de Crowley.

— Por supuesto que sí. ¿De qué se trata?

Aziraphale se relajó un poco al obtener un sí a cambio, entonces se deshizo de la manta y se puso de pie, caminó un poco hasta llegar al centro de la tienda, pues necesitaba espacio para lo que estaba por hacer. Crowley aún seguía en el mismo lugar del comienzo, lo siguió con la mirada, confundido, esperando ver de qué se trataba todo esto.

Entonces Aziraphale le dio la espalda a Crowley, no sin antes ladear la cabeza un segundo para confirmar que el demonio efectivamente le estaba prestando atención, y luego mirar hacia el frente. Se llenó de valor y se desabrochó la ropa, deslizó el saco, junto con la camisa y todo lo demás sobre sus hombros y brazos, dejando desnuda la mitad posterior de su dorso. Crowley abrió los ojos con una gran sorpresa y se puso de pie rápidamente, tropezando en el intento. Entonces Aziraphale finalmente libera sus alas de par en par, ocupando gran parte del espacio de la tienda debido a su inmensidad. Crowley queda prácticamente boquiabierto, jamás le dejará de sorprender la belleza divina que posee Aziraphale.

— ¿Puedes revisarlas? —preguntó el ángel, al notar que el otro no soltó ninguna palabra aún.

Crowley salió de su trance y se acercó a paso tranquilo, no entendiendo por qué Aziraphale le había pedido tal cosa, sin embargo dispuesto a cumplirla, se movió automáticamente, como si quien controlase su cuerpo fuese algo más y no él mismo.

— Claro...

Se posó detrás suyo, y antes de hacer cualquier movimiento se tomó un tiempo para mirar de cerca. Aziraphale plegaba sus alas, totalmente descubiertas, sólo para él.

El tragaluz que estaba puesto en el techo, justo sobre él, dejaba entrar unos cuantos rayos de sol que envolvían cada pluma, y a su vez se mezclaban con la luz natural del ángel, realzando ese blanco tan precioso y puro.

Crowley jamás tuvo la oportunidad de presenciar al ángel de esta forma. Jamás había visto la raíz de sus alas creciendo de su espalda desnuda, es más, ni siquiera había visto su espalda desnuda. Se dió cuenta de que Azira tiene un millar de lunares, su corazón dió un vuelco, y el nerviosismo se dio lugar en su cabeza.

— ¿Puedo... tocar? —Se atrevió a consultar, sin tener en cuenta que quizás Aziraphale buscaba que solo observe y no toque.

— Por supuesto.

El demonio no pudo evitar emocionarse un poco, la curiosidad que mantuvo durante seis mil años por saber cuál es el tacto de las alas de Aziraphale estaba finalmente a punto de ser saciada. Acercó su antebrazo derecho y con muchísima delicadeza palmó, acarició despacio, procurando que sus dedos se deslicen entre cada pluma con suavidad.

La piel del ángel se erizó, jamás pensó que las manos de Crowley tuvieran un roce tan gentil, tan dulce. A medida que el pelirrojo exploraba sus extremidades emplumadas, la angustia que invadió su corazón toda la mañana fue desvaneciendose poco a poco, reemplazando el sentimiento por un calor agradable en su pecho, por paz, seguridad.

Tanta era la calma que sentía, que cerró sus ojos, y permitió que Crowley lo tocara más. Olvidándose por completo del objetivo inicial.

— ¿Qué es lo que estoy buscando exactamente, ángel? —Crowley notó que los hombros del otro se habían relajado, entonces procuró no elevar su tono de voz, habló casi susurrando. Ambos habían convertido la situación en un momento extremadamente íntimo sin darse cuenta.

— Dime qué es lo que ves.

— ¿Qué...?

— ¿Qué es lo que ves?

Crowley frenó un segundo para pensar en su respuesta, no sabía qué es lo qué Aziraphale quería oír, ni por qué estaba haciendo esto, así que solamente respondió con total y honesta sinceridad.

— Veo...

— ¿Sí...?

— Una preciosidad divina.

— ¿Crowley?

— Una hermosura cargada de gracia y delicadeza, algo que sólo tú eres capaz de poseer, ángel.

— Eso... No es lo que... —Aziraphale se puso nervioso y contrajo sus alas en respuesta, su rostro enrojeció y su lengua se enredó con torpeza.

— ¿Qué sucede?

— Sólo... Dime si notas algo raro en ellas.

— ¿Algo raro? ¿Cómo qué? —Crowley empezó a impacientarse, las respuestas y preguntas del otro no hacían más que confundirlo.

— Algo como… una mancha.

— ¿Mancha? —Se alejó unos pasos y observó el panorama entero nuevamente. No había nada de lo que el ángel estaba mencionando—. Las únicas manchas que veo son tus peculiares lunares, que por cierto te sientan muy bien.

Aziraphale ignoró el último comentario, cerró sus alas y volteó a mirarlo mientras se acomodaba la ropa de forma rápida y desprolija.

— ¿Entonces no hay ninguna impureza? —preguntó ansioso.

— No. Se ven totalmente puras para mí. ¿A qué viene todo esto?

— ¡Oh! Gracias al cielo...

— Aziraphale....

— Lo siento mucho, seguramente esto fue demasiado raro e incómodo para tí, es sólo que... Yo. Bueno, tuve, es decir, tengo... Un...

— ¿Un?

— Problema...

— No tienes por qué esconder nada, sabes que puedo leerte por completo de pies a cabeza, sé que no estás bien.

El ángel suspiró profundamente una última vez, Crowley tenía razón, no podía fingir con él, no sabiendo que lo conoce como si fuesen uno sólo.

— Anoche tuve un sueño, más bien una pesadilla. Era una situación totalmente normal, no parecía ser algo malo. Yo estaba comenzando mí día, frente al espejo de mí tocador, con mis alas extendidas. Entonces recibo una llamada, eras tú, pero cuando volteé a responder, el auricular del teléfono no tenía tono, entonces asumí que te habías equivocado, así que devolví mí vista al espejo pero cuando eso sucede yo noto que una de mis alas tenía una... mancha negra.

— Oh, ya veo. —Crowley se encogió de hombros, ahora comprendía mejor la situación y todo el tema con las alas, pero a pesar de ello no pudo evitar notar el hecho de que esto tenía que ver con él—. ¿Por qué piensas que tendrías una impureza? ¿Hiciste algo malo últimamente?

— ¡Por supuesto que no! —Contestó inmediatamente—. O eso creo...

— ¿Crees? ¿A qué te refieres, ángel?

Y ahora, Aziraphale no quería contestar. Porque la causa de su dolor, de la verdad que se estaba replanteando esta mañana, está justamente frente suyo.

— Creo que no debí hacer todo esto. Exponerme de esta forma ante tí, está muy mal, tú eres un... —Pausó, su voz comenzaba a quebrarse.

— ¿Qué es lo qué soy?

— Un demonio...

— Lo soy. Y tú eres un ángel. ¿Entonces?

— ¿Entonces? ¡Crowley, míranos! No deberíamos intimar de esta forma, todos estos años, todos estos siglos, jamás debimos siquiera haberlo pensado.

Crowley no se inmutó, escuchó al ángel atentamente, incluso si le estaba doliendo todo lo que salía de su boca, no lo detuvo.

— ¿Qué tiene de malo?

— ¡Todo! ¡Entiende que existe la posibilidad de una condena! —Inmediatamente se arrepintió de permitir que su lengua sea más veloz que su corazón.

— Ya veo. Entonces piensas que estar conmigo es digno de condena.

— No, no... Espera, Crowley, no es eso lo que quise...

— Está bien, Aziraphale. Sé que estás asustado, tienes un temor razonable al exilio, lo sé, porque yo estuve ahí, ¿Recuerdas? Fui un ángel una vez. Pero tengo un presentimiento de que esto va más allá del exilio. —Se acercó al otro tratando de calmarlo, y tomó sus manos, entrelazó sus dedos con los del ser puro y lo miró fijamente a los ojos—. ¿De qué tienes miedo exactamente?

— De amarte.

Eso era todo lo que Crowley necesitaba oír, una respuesta exacta, la verdad.

Esbozó una sonrisa cargada de gentileza, eliminó todo el espacio que había entre ellos dos y lo envolvió con sus brazos. Un agarre fuerte pero dulce, como si le estuviera recalcando al ángel que él estuvo, está y estará allí para él siempre, que no está sólo, y que si lo exilian y todos los ángeles del cielo lo aborrecen, él aún seguiría a su lado, y que si todos los demonios lo rechazan por su naturaleza gentil y sus virtudes, él seguiría ahí, y que si todos los humanos lo despreciaban por la misma causa, él permanecerá allí.

— Aziraphale, tu amor jamás traerá condena. Y no lo digo porque seas un ángel. Porque independientemente de eso, el tipo de amor que tú das, es pureza plena, es genuino y liberta, me enmudece, a mí, un demonio. Me agita, me atrapa y me libera, me envuelve. No estás haciendo nada malo, amar no es un pecado, mí ángel.

Aziraphale rompió en llanto y se refugió en los brazos de Crowley, nunca se había sentido tan seguro, desde el momento de su creación, ni en los cielos, ni en la tierra y debajo de la tierra, como se siente en los brazos de su amado.

— No quiero esconderlo más. —Susurró el ángel. Mientras su llanto cesaba. Crowley depositó un dulce beso en su frente.

— No tienes por qué hacerlo. ¿Qué dices si te limpias esa cara tan preciosa que tienes y vamos a esa pastelería en francia que tanto adoras? —Sugirió Crowley, ya que el primer plan que tenían para hoy no era más factible, la hora había pasado.

— Pero ese lugar también trabaja únicamente con reservas. —Se separó un poco para mirar a los ojos del otro, el corazón del demonio dió un vuelco total al presenciar la ternura del rostro enrojecido y mojado por las lágrimas del mismísimo Principado, Aziraphale.

— Oh, supongo que algún político importante... ¡Muy malvado! Perderá su puesto el día de hoy también.

El ángel soltó una risita risueña, se apartó por completo del demonio, guardó sus preciosas alas, cosa que entristeció un poco a Crowley, y con un pequeño milagro se preparó para salir.

— ¡Vamos! —Exclamó, extendiendo su mano para guiar a Crowley a la entrada de la librería. Sin embargo se dio cuenta de que estar tomando su mano era demasiado agradable como para quebrantar el agarre. Así que se mantuvieron así, unidos, durante todo el trayecto, hasta el final.

Aziraphale ya no sufre más.

[zapreportsblog]

Girl I think we all need some poly ghostface where stu and billy are teasing the reader and talking about them like their not there, "i dont know...maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want..." ;)) it can be smut or not idm. Love ur writing so much <33333

❝highschool detective on the case❞

✭ pairing : poly ghostface x reader

✭ fandom : scream

✭ summary : (y/n) is the new girl who just moved up from (hometown) she has a crazy fetish when it comes to serial killers having taken it upon herself to even solve unsolved murder cases - which she gets from her father. He was the top detective in his unit after all. Upon hearing about this ghostface killer she dives into detective mood grabbing their attention in the process

✭ authors note : I think we all are borderline psychotic when it comes to these two nibwits also thank you for requesting and I’m glad you’re enjoying my works so far :)

✭ slashers masterlist

Woodsboro High School buzzed with the energy of a new school year, and (Y/N) had just arrived, ready to start fresh in this unfamiliar town. As she stepped onto the campus, her presence stood out like a stark contrast to the other students.

She wore a leather trench coat that fell just past her thighs, giving her an enigmatic aura. Low-rise washed-out jeans hugged her hips, revealing a tattoo on her lower stomach. Her hair was styled in a pixie cut, and dark shades shielded her eyes, giving her an almost FBI agent-like mystique. Chunky boots completed her unconventional ensemble, and a crop top black vest shirt adorned with a rhinestone skull on the breast part added an edgy touch.

As she walked through the courtyard, students couldn't help but stare and whisper amongst themselves, wondering who this mysterious new girl was and what her story might be. (Y/N), however, seemed oblivious to the attention, her mind focused on something else entirely.

Reclining on a bench, she delved into the contents of her notes. In her lap lay a case file, weathered by time and use, filled with photographs, notes, and articles. It was the unsolved murder case from her hometown that her father, a dedicated detective, had entrusted to her once the trail had gone cold.

(Y/N) was determined to find answers and bring closure to the grieving families back home, even if it meant uprooting her life and starting anew in Woodsboro. The gravity of the task weighed heavily on her, and her fierce dedication to solving the case had become her driving force.

Throughout the day, students at Woodsboro High had been attempting to strike up conversations with (Y/N), but her terse responses and preoccupied demeanor made it clear that she had little interest in making friends. She was on a mission, and she had no time for idle chitchat.

At lunch, (Y/N) found a quiet spot to sit alone, her case file still in her lap as she reviewed the evidence once more. Lost in thought, she didn't notice Stu, one of her classmates, approaching from behind. He playfully wrapped his arms around her shoulders and said, "Now, what do we have here?"

(Y/N) stiffened at the unexpected contact but quickly composed herself. She turned to glance at Stu, taking in his appearance before responding with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you a bit too old to not know about personal hygiene?"

Stu, looking slightly offended, discreetly sniffed himself and made a face. "Hey, I don't stink!"

Tatum, Stu's girlfriend, along with her friends Sidney and Sidney's boyfriend, also joined the group, curious about the interaction. Randy, another student, chimed in, intrigued by (Y/N)'s mysterious presence. "What's that you're reading?" he asked, peering at her lap.

In her usual blunt tone, (Y/N) replied, "A case."

The group exchanged puzzled glances, clearly taken aback by her straightforward response. Stu was the first to regain his composure, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "A case, huh? You're a detective or something?"

(Y/N) didn't provide any additional information, her eyes returning to the contents of the file. She was used to curious glances and questions, but her focus remained unwavering on her mission to uncover the truth.

Randy's curiosity remained unabated, and he leaned in closer, asking, "So, what's the case about?"

(Y/N) let out a sigh and put her notes aside, her expression serious as she shared a glimpse of her purpose. "I'm trying to solve a cold case from my hometown. It involves a young woman who was violently beaten and tortured."

Tatum raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. "But if it's a cold case, why are you trying to solve it now?"

(Y/N) shrugged, her dedication evident in her reply. "It's just a hobby I enjoy."

Billy, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but become more intrigued. He leaned in with a casual demeanor and asked, "So, you're into things like that, huh?"

(Y/N) met his gaze with a cool, unwavering stare. "Yup. I was raised watching the dangers of the world and even experiencing it."

The group fell silent for a moment, absorbing (Y/N)'s cryptic response. Her presence had added an unexpected layer of mystery to their lunchtime gathering, and they couldn't help but wonder about the secrets she held and the motivations driving her pursuit of a cold case.

Sidney, feeling a twinge of awkwardness, couldn't help but blurt out, "What kind of experiences are you talking about?" But she quickly realized the insensitivity of her question and immediately apologized, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

(Y/N) simply shrugged off the awkward moment, her demeanor unphased by Sidney's unintended bluntness. "No worries," she replied calmly before elaborating on her past. "I've seen quite a bit, to be honest. When I was three, I watched an unsub murder my mom right in front of me."

Sidney's eyes widened in shock, regret for her earlier question apparent on her face.

(Y/N) continued, her tone steady. "Then, when I was thirteen, I was kidnapped as part of a blackmail attempt against my father. He's a detective, you see. Since then, I've been to all sorts of crime scenes, helping him with his work."

Stu couldn't help but comment, "Wow, that's dark."

Billy, mumbling under his breath, added, "Wicked."

(Y/N) acknowledged their reactions with a nonchalant nod, as if her experiences were just a matter-of-fact part of her life. She had learned to cope with the darkness she had witnessed and embraced her role as an amateur detective, eager to make sense of the chaos around her.

Breaking the now oncoming silence (Y/N) decides to ask her own question, “So what’s fun around here?” Tatum taking it upon herself decides to reply back whiles filing her mails, “Not much honestly, though shopping is always on the table.”

But (Y/N) wasn't interested in the usual teenage pastimes. She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, and clarified, "No, no, no! I'm talking murder cases here, blonde. Anything good?"

Randy, who had already labeled her as a weirdo, rolled his eyes, muttering, "Oh, no, not another weirdo."

(Y/N) couldn't help but give Randy a proud smirk, as if she embraced that title with pride. Sidney and Tatum, perhaps sensing the direction the conversation was about to take, excused themselves from the group.

Stu, always eager for attention, chimed in, "You know, Sidney's mom's murder was pretty wild. She was having an affair, and the guy must've gone crazy and slaughtered her."

(Y/N) listened intently, a crazed look in her eyes, and responded, "Yeah, now there's the good stuff. Tell me more."

Billy, with a hint of excitement in his voice, added, "There was also the murder of those two students not too long ago. It was pretty brutal."

"A murder, you say?" (Y/N) leaned in with an unsettling grin, her curiosity piqued. "Tell me about it."

Stu, relishing the chance to share a gruesome tale, went into chilling detail about the murder. "Well, my ex, Cassie, she was slaughtered. Her body was found strung up by her own organs in her front yard. It was... brutal. And her boyfriend, Derek, was found duct-taped to a lawn chair and drowned in the pool at her house. His intestines were out too."

(Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with a disturbing excitement as she listened to the horrifying description. She pressed for more information, asking, "Any leads on the killer?"

The boys exchanged glances and shook their heads. "No, not really," Billy admitted.

Randy added, "And Sidney, she was attacked a few nights after that. She said the killer was masked and wore what looked like a ghost mask."

(Y/N)'s grin widened at the mention of the masked killer, her fascination with the macabre evident. It seemed that the darker the story, the more it intrigued her. The group had unwittingly drawn her into their web of murder mysteries, and little did they know that her relentless pursuit of the truth would soon unearth secrets that would put them all in grave danger.

“Seems this town just got a little more interesting,'" (y/n) remarked with an eerie grin as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. She gathered her things and excused herself, leaving Randy to his own devices as he followed suit and left.

Now, only Stu and Billy remained alone at the table. Billy's eyes darkened, and a sinister glint danced in them as he leaned in closer to Stu. He asked in a hushed tone, "Should we go after her tonight?"

Stu, hyped up by the disturbing stories and (Y/N)'s unnerving interest in murder cases, couldn't help but share Billy's excitement. He replied with an eager grin, "Hell yeah."

(Y/N) returned home after a long day at Woodsboro High, finding a note from her dad, the detective, explaining that he would be back late, as usual. With a resigned sigh, she decided to unwind, slipping into comfortable sweatpants and a tank top.

She settled onto the couch, surrounded by an array of open books, articles, and her laptop, her research materials for delving into the recent murders that had captured her fascination. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of her laptop screen.

Hours passed as she scoured the internet for any information about the brutal murders that had taken place in Woodsboro. (Y/N)'s determination was unwavering, her thirst for answers driving her to dig deeper into the dark mysteries of the town.

The hours dragged on, and fatigue began to creep in. Despite her best efforts, the weight of exhaustion overcame her, and (Y/N) eventually drifted into a fitful nap on the couch, her mind still haunted by the gruesome details of the unsolved murders that had consumed her thoughts.

(Y/N) woke up late at night, the room cast in darkness except for the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She glanced at the clock, which read 10:00 PM. Her dad still hadn't returned home, but she was used to his late hours.

Feeling hungry, she decided to order some food delivery to keep her going while she continued her research. As she dialed her order, anticipation for a late-night snack grew. She gave the delivery address and hung up, ready to return to her work.

Just as she settled back into her research, her phone rang, startling her. She picked it up, and at first, the voice on the other end played it off as a wrong number. But then they began asking personal questions.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" the voice inquired.

(Y/N), her curiosity piqued, retorted playfully, "Why? You trying to ask me out?"

The person on the other line let out a smirk, their tone suggestive as they asked again, "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

(Y/N) decided to tease them with an equally suggestive response, "Perhaps." She was intrigued by the mysterious caller and couldn't help but engage in their unusual late-night conversation.

As (Y/N) found herself engaged in this mysterious late-night conversation, her curiosity only grew when the person on the other end suggested, "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?" she asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

The voice on the phone responded, "I want to know your favorite scary movie."

(Y/N) didn't hesitate to share her interests. "Well, I really enjoyed 'The Craft.' It's a fascinating blend of witchcraft, teenage rebellion, and a dash of horror. The story revolves around a group of high school girls who form a coven and use their newfound powers for personal gain. But as their abilities grow, so does the darkness that haunts them. It's a captivating exploration of the consequences of wielding supernatural abilities and the complexities of female friendship."

She paused briefly before continuing, "Another one I really liked is 'Thinner.' It's based on a Stephen King novel and tells the story of a morbidly obese lawyer who's cursed by a gypsy and begins to inexplicably lose weight at an alarming rate. The film delves into themes of karma, guilt, and the unintended consequences of our actions. The slow, agonizing transformation of the main character is both terrifying and thought-provoking."

(Y/N) went on to describe the intricate details of both films, her passion for horror movies evident in her animated discussion. She shared her insights on the characters, the plot twists, and the underlying themes, displaying an impressive knowledge of the genre. The mysterious caller on the other end seemed intrigued by her enthusiasm.

The person on the other end of the line, after inquiring about her favorite scary movies, pressed for her name. (Y/N), however, wasn't so quick to reveal her identity. "Why should I tell you my name when you haven't told me yours?" she countered.

A sinister chuckle came through the phone before the voice replied, "Because I want to know the name of who I'm watching right now. Nice top, by the way."

(Y/N), far from being scared, merely rolled her eyes and glanced out the window behind her. She smirked into the darkness and said, "So, this is the infamous killer of Woodsboro? Would've expected better, but then again, you're just a small-town killer."

The voice on the other end of the line grew audibly offended, and they began to issue chilling threats. They spoke of slicing her open, just like they had done to Cassie, and leaving her hanging for her father to find. The threats were meant to intimidate, to strike fear into (Y/N)'s heart.

However, she remained surprisingly unshaken. Instead of cowering, she chuckled, a mix of defiance and amusement in her voice. "Give it your best shot," she taunted, her bravado unwavering. "I'm not one to back down from a challenge."

The late-night conversation had taken a menacing turn, and (Y/N) was about to find herself entangled in a perilous game of wits and survival with a cunning and ruthless adversary.

The next day at school, (Y/N) arrived with an unusual cheeriness about her. Stu and the rest of her newfound friends couldn't help but notice her upbeat demeanor, and Stu was the first to comment, asking, "What's got you so cheery today?"

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, (Y/N) replied, "Oh, you won't believe this. I've got video footage of Ghostface trying to break into my house."

The revelation sent shockwaves through the group, their eyes widening in disbelief. "No way," they chimed in unison.

(Y/N), however, seemed nonchalant as she waved off their amazement. "Yes way," she affirmed, laughing it off as if it were just another everyday occurrence.

Randy couldn't help but express his surprise. "I'm surprised you're not dead," he remarked, his tone laced with incredulity.

(Y/N) shrugged, her explanation casual. "My dad had our houses revamped before we moved here. Custom locks, gateways, and cameras. No one gets in unless they want them to. It's like living in a fortress."

As the group absorbed this information, (Y/N) decided to take a teasing turn. She smirked and declared, "Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven't been hunted like this in a while."

The reaction from her friends was mixed, to say the least. Most were creeped out by her unusual enthusiasm, especially given the recent unsettling events. But Stu and Billy, the true culprits behind the Ghostface mask, couldn't help but exchange sly glances. Their nefarious plan was in motion, and (Y/N) had just unknowingly stoked the flames of their sinister game.

Billy couldn't resist adding a chilling remark, his tone laced with dark humor, "I don't know... maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want."

“What’s the suppose to mean?” (Y/n) remarks and billy shrugs it off “Who knows maybe the killer is somewhere watching you, after all you can never be too careful.”

[rosietrace]

『 For you? Anything. 』

Characters featured: Victoria Shard, Victoria Le Fay(@starry-night-rose )

Pairing: Shard x Le Fay

Synopsis: Le Fay got stood up during her date. And it seems Shard came at just the right time.

Warning(s): Potentially ooc, Shard is referred to as “Regina”, getting stood up on a date

{ Apologies for any out of character moments }

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

Victoria sat there, impatient and disappointed. And no, this wasn't the Victoria of Pomefiore.

It was the one from Diasomnia. Victoria Le Fay, in all her prideful, confident glory, had been asked out.

And so far? It hasn't been going well for her.

That pretentious snail…. She thought, crossing her arms in annoyance as she felt a vein appearing on her forehead. To think, they'd leave me hanging like this…

She looked down at the ground, barely even bothering to touch the menu. The other people around her looked at her in both pity and slight amusement, depending on the person. Because they all knew what had happened.

Her date had stood her up.

And Victoria knew that as well. She uncrossed her arms, finally beginning to compose herself in an attempt to hide any signs of sadness.

She liked that guy. They were nice, handsome enough, and even went as far as to promise to pay for her meal during this date.

And yet they didn't come.

A waiter nearby soon approached. “Um, miss?” they called. “Have you…. Have you finally decided on what you shall order?”

Victoria pursed her lips, unsure of how she was to answer. She was hungry, sure, but…. There was that hope. That sliver of hope that, maybe, possibly, they'd show up.

As the waiter began growing all the more concerned, a voice was heard behind them.

“She'll have the pomegranate-based cheesecake.”

Both the waiter and Victoria turned to see who the source of the voice was.

Ah. It was the other Victoria, the one from Pomefiore.

Victoria would often call her Regina, in order to differentiate between her and the woman in front of her at the moment.

Regina looked at Victoria, raising an eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “Did you come here for nothing?”

A moment of silence passed between the two. The tension between them was so thick that the waiter between them would have cut it with a knife.

Even so, Victoria sighed, sending a nod. It was unclear if she sent it to Regina's way, or the waiter's.

Regardless, Regina sat across from her whilst the waiter wrote down Victoria's order. They turned to Regina. “And you, ma'am?”

Regina hummed, not even bothering to look at the waiter. “Vanilla and chocolate parfait.”

The waiter gave her a firm nod, writing down their orders before walking off.

Victoria tensed up, narrowing her eyes a little. “Why are you here?” she questioned.

Regina arched a brow. “Do you not want me here?”

“Wha- That isn't what I meant,” Victoria clarified. “I was just…. Surprised to see you here.”

Regina shrugged. “I can see why,” she said. “Let me guess: That date didn't go as planned?”

As surprised as Victoria may have been, she didn't bother to question Regina. Crossing her arms, Victoria allowed herself to slouch in her seat. “I'd barely call it a date.”

“Oh?” color Regina intrigued. “How come?”

Victoria huffed in annoyance. “He didn't even bother to show up,” she told her. The look in her eyes bordered between annoyance.

And hurt.

Regina noticed that, right away. She gave Victoria a look of pity. “Are you sure you're okay?”

There was genuine concern in her tone, so much so that it caught Victoria off guard for a moment.

“Hm. Of course, I am!” she feigned the confidence she had when she first entered the damn restaurant, moments before she realized: she got stood up. “You know me already, Regina, the great Victoria Le Fay isn't one to be so caught up over such frivolous matters!”

As soon as she said that, she knew - Regina didn't buy that little lie one bit. Manipulative as she may be, Victoria knew that Regina claimed to “uphold” one thing.

The truth. And what Victoria said, was far from it.

“Hey,” Regina called out, reaching out to place her hand on Victoria's. “You're lying. I know it.”

“Regina…”

“Victoria.”

“This isn't any of your busine-”

“I can't help you if you continue to lie about your feelings, Victoria,” Regina told her, letting go of her hand to fold her arms over her chest.

Victoria looked away. “This isn't any of your business.”

Regina sighed. “I know,” she replied. “I just happened to be at the right place, at the right time.”

“But….”

From the corner of Victoria's eye, she saw genuine sincerity filling Regina's eyes. “What I can do to help is to at least listen to you let out those frustrations you've been bottling up.”

It was ironic, to say the least. The girl who bottled her emotions the most is telling the girl who is most vocal about her opinions to do just that.

Still, Victoria was touched by her words and took a deep breath. “Fine,” she breathed.

And so, she told her everything.

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

That ended up being exactly what she needed. For someone, it didn't matter who, to listen to her voice her opinions with little to no qualms about it.

Regina was quite the listener. A couple of comments here and there, but mostly silent. Letting Victoria take the initiative as her words started becoming all the more frustrated.

And that frustration only revealed itself fully once Victoria had a flavorful taste of pomegranate cheesecake.

“I just can't believe they'd do such a thing,” she continued to complain, taking a bite of her cheesecake with very few complaints about its taste.

Regina hummed. “Yes, a rather ridiculous thing to do, indeed.”

“Admittedly…” Victoria trailed off. Regina stopped any words from leaving her lips, in order to patiently await what Victoria had to say.

“Admittedly,” she began. “I… Actually quite liked them.”

And that's what made it hurt more.

Giving her a look, Regina pursed her lips, possibly thinking of something to say to respond to that.

And she found that reply, almost immediately.

“I see,” she said finally. “I'm not an expert at this sort of thing… But I can at least tell you this.”

Victoria arched a brow, (im)patiently waiting for whatever Regina had to say to her.

“You shouldn't be too caught up on someone like them.”

Victoria became all the more confused. “Why are you so concerned about my feelings? You don't need to do anything for me..”

Regina chuckled so softly that Victoria felt her cheeks heat up ever so slightly.

“For you? Anything.”

Victoria flinched, but allowed Regina to continue with what she told her. In doing so, she attempted to shake off the redness of her cheeks.

“Besides,” Regina rested her chin on her hand, leaning against it while looking at Victoria with a gentle smile.

“Who knows? Maybe the person you're looking for could be right in front of you.”

But, you're the…. As her thoughts drifted elsewhere, Victoria felt her face heat up in realization.

Was…. Was Regina referring to herself?

To be fair, it wasn't like Victoria felt like she could complain about being with Regina. She was poised, beautiful, and intellectually advanced….

Oh. Oh.

Victoria was in love with Regina. Or rather, in love with Victoria Shard.

At that realization, Regina looked at her with a look of concern. “Victoria?” she called out to her, pulling her out of her train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Victoria remained silent, unsure of what to say next. Obviously, she couldn't just tell Regina of these recently realized feelings right then and there.

But….. Y'know what, that was a problem for future Victoria Le Fay.

Smiling, albeit a little more softly than usual, Victoria shook her head.

“I'm fine.”

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

Taglist

🥥 @starry-night-rose • @windbornearchon • @nem0-nee • @authoruio • @fumikomiyasaki • @sakuramidnight15

@oseathepebble • @geminiiviolets • @twsted-princess • @revolllutionary • @celiica • @terrovaniadorm • @vivaresmala • @vaporvipermedia • @spadecentral

[transformers-bold-bright-brisk]

Could there be like a beast mode secret club that the recruits make? So when hoist becomes a dino bot princy, lazier beak, and slash just kid a kidnap him and ask him to join? I think it would be adorable. The other recruits would have no idea. Professor grimlock is their leader.

OMG YES!!! Time for a Hoist backstory rewrite, because your ask made me have a lightbulb moment ✨💡✨

When Hoist was first forged their first alt mode they scanned was reminiscent of a basic Cybertronian tow truck. And as they continued their endeavors at the academy on Earth, they decided to scan an alt mode that they new suited them more. The more Hoist grew into their new alt mode, with its Earth inspired features, the more they felt connected to their personal goal to become a Rescue Bot.

As time passed, everything kept changing for the recruits as they were entering the later section of the school year. They acquired academic advisors, and Hoist’s new advisor was Grimlock. Even if Hoist had an internalized fear of Dinobots, they got along spectacularly; leaving Hoist less and less fearful of their advisor’s more rambunctious nature.

The closer Hoist got to Grimlock, the more Hoist started growing out of their timid nature, and they started embracing a more confident persona. Then as soon as they realized how much potential they’ve grown to have, Hoist decided to give up their recent alt- in favor of an alt that best represented their newfound personality.

Of course, Hoist chose a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Inspiring himself to be more adaptable with their own growing expectations and physical strength.

—-

As soon as the new school year started, there were new students to be introduced to the rest of the recruits.

And a few of these recruits happen to also have animalistic alt modes. There’s Laserbeak with a raven protoform, Slash with a raptor protoform, and Prince with a two-headed dragon protoform. Unlike Hoist, they were all forged with beast-like protoforms. Thanks to their shared experiences of being subcategories of a traditional Beastformer, they started a little…club. Including a secret special guest.

—-

They were hesitant at first, but they decided to make Hoist an honorary member.

The initiation had begun.

As Hoist was practically carried off to the meeting as the club gave them the full rundown of what was happening. Hoist was flattered, but as soon as they explained that they chose a Dynobot alt, instead of being forged with one, they thought the group would let them go.

Instead of letting Hoist resign, the Beastformer Club chose to keep them there for a bit longer, so that they could put them through phase two of initiation…

Prince bursting through the ceiling vent: I’M BACK! Hey Hoist! Just one thing left to do before your admission into Beastformer Club is official.

Prince pulling out Ambassador Deathsaurus’s old helmet filled with energon: DRINK UP!

Hoist: WOAH- WAIT- W-WHAT? How did you even get that?

Prince: Oh- right, yeah. Back home Deathsaurus lost a fight with King and he left this beaut just laying around. It has a BIG crack in it.

Hoist: O- Okay… so where do I… drink it from?

Slash: I suggest the top left eyehole. Heard on a blog that said it was good luck.

Laserbeak: Obviously the mouth, it lets you consume it faster.

Prince: What? No! Drink it from the crack!

Hoist’s inner voice: What the hell did I get myself into?

Grimlock on the security camera: What the hell did this kid get themself into?

[some-pers0n]

Bed