#sorry i'm ranting my emotions away

[sloppyjester]

I'm rewatching Yuri on Ice (for the umpteen times) to find comfort after the announcement (Mappa, when I catch you, Mappa) and all the feelings are coming back and man I needed that pure joy and motivation again. This show literally changed my life in lots of ways and I grew up with it, it helped me in finding an escape when life was too rough and it was (and still is) a reminder that, despite everything, it eventually gets better. I needed that reminder.

And to those who think that because Mappa let us down, the story is dead, that's not true, the characters keep on living within all of our thoughts, fictions, fanarts and must I remind you : we were born to make history

[reddiamondyeet]

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[emometalhead]

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[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….” 

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way. 

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.” 

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had. 

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

[its-avalon-08]

ADORE UR ANGST! Can you do a lando norris x y/n where lando is upset with y/n because she wasnt listening when he was ranting about something that happened. He feels annoyed. Y/N doesnt know why he's upset but then she realises. she tries to apoligise

can i just say i love it when y/n messes up, because writing reader groveling is my guilty pleasure <3 thanks anon

look up from your fucking phone (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - alot of fighting, y/n is being annoying, angst, fluffy ending

Lando slammed the apartment door shut, the echo bouncing off the bare walls of their new place in Monaco. He threw his helmet on the couch, the familiar orange a stark contrast to the simmering red of his mood.

"Y/N, did you see that?!" he yelled, stomping towards the kitchen.

Y/N was hunched over the counter, phone glued to her ear, a frown etched on her face. "Ugh, why won't this load?..." she trailed off, finally noticing Lando's stormy entrance.

"Didn't you see what Yuki pulled out there?!" Lando practically exploded. "That dive bomb into Turn 12? I could've been wiped out!"

Y/N finally peeled her phone away from her ear. "Yeah, I saw it. Sounds scary," she said, her voice flat. She scrolled through her phone again, a picture of a cupcake taking center screen.

Lando's anger intensified. "Scary? Y/N, it was reckless! He could've ruined both our races!" He gestured wildly with his gloved hands. "And all he gets is a five-second penalty? That's a joke!"

Y/N sighed, a sound of exasperation that sent a fresh wave of irritation through Lando. "Look, I'm sure you'll bounce back. Maybe get some revenge on him next race?" She offered a tight smile, her eyes still glued to the phone.

Lando felt a knot tighten in his chest. "That's it? No 'are you okay?' No 'that was a dirty move?'" His voice dropped to a low growl. "Don't you even care?"

Y/N finally looked up, startled. "Of course I care, Lando! I just... I had a really stressful day too, okay?" She gestured vaguely at the phone. "Work stuff."

The knot in Lando's chest unraveled, replaced by a hollow ache. "Right," he muttered, his voice devoid of its usual spark. "Work stuff is always more important than your boyfriend getting wrecked on the track, apparently."

Y/N's eyes widened. "Hey, that's not fair! I wouldn't say that." She reached out a hand, but Lando flinched away.

"Just forget it," he said, his voice tight. "I need a shower."

He stormed past her, the slam of the bathroom door echoing through the apartment. Y/N stared after him, the phone clattering to the counter with a forgotten thud. The file which had now loaded mocked her from the screen.

Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She'd been so caught up in her own problems, she hadn't realized Lando was having a terrible day. Shame washed over her as she remembered his frustrated yells, his need for support.

She jumped up, rushing to the bathroom door. "Lando, wait!" she called out, her voice laced with panic. "I'm so sorry, I was just..."

Silence.

She tried the knob, but it wouldn't budge. He must've locked it. Lando, who never locked the bathroom door. A cold dread filled her.

He was mad. Really mad. And it was all her fault.

The silence stretched on for what felt like hours. Dinner, usually a time for shared laughter and stories, was a tense affair. Y/N cooked Lando's favorite pasta dish, but it sat untouched on the table, growing cold beside her untouched plate. Every time she stole a glance at the bathroom door, a knot tightened in her stomach.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, she cleared her throat. "Lando," she began tentatively, "I know you're upset, and I just wanted to say again that I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been on the phone. I was just..."

The clatter of the bathroom door slamming shut cut her off. Lando stormed into the living room, his face a mask of fury.

"Just what?" he spat out, his voice raw with emotion. "Just another bad day at work for you? Don't you get it, Y/N? Today was a nightmare! Yuki nearly took me out, the car felt off the entire race, and to top it all off, the media keeps hounding me about missing out on the podium."

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "And you," he pointed a finger at her, his voice cracking, "you weren't even there for me. You were too busy with your stupid phone to even see how much I was fucking hurting."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. "Lando, I-"

He cut her off again, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability that ripped at her heartstrings. "No, Y/N! You don't get to talk now. I had the worst fucking day of my life, and your sorry does. not. fix. that. You listening to me, maybe even caring, might have. But you weren't there. And frankly, right now, I don't even know if you care at all."

He stormed past her, grabbing his helmet from the couch. "I'm going for a drive. Don't wait up." The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment, leaving Y/N standing alone in the cold, sterile silence. Tears streamed down her face, a silent apology echoing in the empty room. She had messed up, badly. And now, she had to find a way to fix it, even if it meant facing Lando's anger and rebuilding the trust she had so carelessly shattered.

Lando's car tore down the familiar winding roads, the roar of the engine a poor substitute for the roar of frustration in his chest. Tears, hot and angry, blurred his vision as he navigated the steep climb towards his favorite spot - the very same hill where he'd asked Y/N to be his girlfriend.

"Stupid phone. Stupid fucking Yuki. Stupid me," he muttered under his breath, slamming the car into park with more force than necessary. He stormed out, the cool night air doing little to quell the fire burning inside him.

He reached the familiar crest of the hill, the city lights twinkling like scattered diamonds below. It was supposed to be a place of peace, a place where he could clear his head. But tonight, it was a stark reminder of everything he'd lost.

"Why couldn't you have listened to me Y/N," he growled, the words catching in his throat. He sat down on the familiar patch of grass, burying his head in his hands. A choked sob escaped his lips, the sound harsh and raw in the quiet night.

Suddenly, a soft voice broke through his despair. "Lando?"

He looked up, startled, to see Y/N standing hesitantly before him. She was holding a basket overflowing with snacks, drinks, and a familiar fluffy blanket. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face etched with worry and regret.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice hoarse. His anger hadn't quite subsided, but it was overshadowed by a wave of surprise.

"I followed you," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She set the basket down beside him cautiously, the woven handles creaking softly. "I know you needed some space, but I couldn't just stay there. I had to try and fix this."

Lando hesitated, then gestured towards the spot beside him. Y/N sat down, her gaze fixed on the glittering cityscape. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, Y/N reached out, placing a hand tentatively on his arm.

"Lando, I'm so, so sorry. There's no excuse for my behavior today. You were having a terrible day, and I completely ignored you. It was selfish and insensitive, and I hurt you. And for that, I am truly sorry."

Lando flinched, a tear rolling down his cheek. He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and longing. "I just... I needed you, Y/N. Today was one of those days when everything felt like it was going wrong. And all I wanted was for you to be there for me, to listen, to just be you."

Y/N's hand tightened on his arm. "I understand now. And believe me, I was there in spirit. Every time you yelled, every time you slammed the door, it broke my heart a little more. But I was so caught up in my own problems, I didn't even see how much you were hurting."

She squeezed his arm gently. "Please, Lando. Let me try to make it up to you. Let's stay here, talk, share some snacks." She gestured towards the basket with a small, hopeful smile. "Maybe then we can face tomorrow together."

Lando looked from her hopeful face to the inviting spread in the basket. A flicker of his old smile played on his lips. He sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Alright, Y/N. Snacks and talking it out sound pretty good right now."

As they settled under the blanket, the city lights twinkling around them, they began to talk. Lando poured out his frustrations about the race, Yuki, and the media. Y/N listened intently, offering words of encouragement and understanding. They reminisced about better races, laughed at silly inside jokes, and slowly, the rift between them began to heal.

The drive home was filled with a comfortable silence, a silent promise to communicate better in the future. As Lando pulled into their driveway, he turned to Y/N, a genuine smile warming his face.

"Thanks for coming after me, Y/N." He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. "I love you."

Y/N smiled back, her heart overflowing with relief. "I love you too, Lando. And next time, I'm chucking the phone into the bin."

[liveontelevision]

Another Lucifer Rant | Lucifer x Reader

I'M BACK BABY

Give this man a dorky partner ffs.

Lucifer Rant (Pt. 1 kinda)

Warnings: SMUTSMUTSMUT +18, Fluff, Some mentions of overstimulation

○○○

Imagine Lucifer at his best. Sure, when you first get together, it's rocky. He needs someone to help him rediscover himself, and that takes a lot of time and energy from both of you. But after a few years, you start to see who he used to be; When he was an elder angel, daring to break the rules and pursue his dreams no matter what. It occasionally led to some destruction, but seeing him now able to recover from it so easily? It melts your heart. You were sure he wouldn't withstand the failure, but he can handle it. He can handle it because of you.

You praise him for branching out into other inventions and creations, but you'll always love his little ducks more than anything. That being said, you're not the only one seeing his creativity thrive. Hell managed to become a brighter place, with golden decorations and structures that were purely made for public enjoyment. Maybe Charlie's rubbing off on him, but he's finally taking charge of his realm and focusing on his subjects. Seeing Charlie at her best only fuels him more. She's living the life he wanted to when he was her age, and now, he had some catching up to do. He was determined.

PDAs:

With his confidence growing, he starts becoming more comfortable with PDAs. You never minded them, but it was nice to see him letting out his emotions in any way. He started off by holding your hand around others. Even though he would always become a blushing mess, even pulling away if he got too embarrassed by you smiling so geniunely at him, it was progress. It then became something he almost whined about when it wasn't happening. He wants you to hold his hand until it's uncomfortably sweaty and even after.

Lucifer would give small pecks to you as well, on your cheek when you walked in the room, your hair if you were sitting and he had access to the top of your head, and when he was in an especially good mood, a sweet peck on the lips before he'd leave.

Truly, the hardest part was saying I love you. In public and in private. What a strange phrase to get so flustered over when youve been with someone for years, and it did take years, but when he said it to you for the first time you damn near cried. After that, you would try to pepper it into conversations casually, in hopes his embarrassment or shame in the phrase would dissipate. Eventually, it did, and he grinned every time you'd say it, eager to return the phrase.

Now, you do your best to respect his boundaries, but one day it just slipped out of you, in front of a few residents and staff, one of them being Charlie. You didnt realize what you had done wrong, and honestly most of the others in the room didnt either, but once you saw Lucifer's overwhelmed expression it clicked that you may have messed up. You looked around to gauge the room and casually walked over to his shrinking form.

"I'm sorry, my love." You leaned in a bit to whisper to him," Do you need to step out? Should I say anything?" You did your best to stay calm, to be his anchor in this situation, but he cleared his throat and picked up his voice a little louder than your previously hushed tone. "L-Love you, too..! Sweetheart.." it was a small intimacy, but dear lord, were you proud of him. You could tell he struggled to do that, even if no one else paid attention to it. His eyes darted to Charlie, who was suddenly meeting his gaze from the other side of the room, and her eyes were absolutely wide and full to the brim with pride.

You had a few conversations with Charlie about everything. She didn't want too many details, just an update on how he's handling himself when she's not around. As he would get better with confiding his feelings to others, he would eventually talk to Charlie about issues and concerns, but for now, you were happy to relay the news to her.

He's her father, of course she wants nothing more than for him to be happy. It's not like she didn't see his struggle, so she couldn't help but feel pride for this little affection and any of his progress. She was quickly pulled away by Vaggie to avoid an outburst of happy tears in front of everyone, which Lucifer didn't mind. You gave him a quick peck on his forehead after looking around the room and took your seat next to him, continuing a conversation that you barely remember starting.

There were some situations where he would let you perform the PDAs. Sometimes, you would push his limits just to see how far he'd go. He wasn't super into movie nights, but Charlie really loved the idea of watching and discussing movies with wholesome values; an exercise to get people to know eachother amd have healthy debates on certain topics that definitely wouldn't turn into arguments. It happened about twice a month, good movies becoming harder to find in Hell.

You sat next to him close enough that your plush thigh was against his leg. He didn't seem to care too much, I mean, he loved it, but he didn't get too flustered. You would reach your arm around the back of the couch to simulate wrapping your arm around his shoulder, brushing your fingertips across the back of his shirt every now and then. The first time you did it, it took him by surprise, but after that, you could see the enjoyment of your touch.

You made sure to sit on the couch behind everyone else. Otherwise, he would feel the need to constantly look over his shoulders. You would try a few things, like placing your hand over his, then interlacing your fingers, then bringing it to your lips whenever the screen would go black and plunge the room in darkness. He seemed to handle it pretty well.

One night, you'd start off by leaning towards him and sitting on your legs, resting your head on his shoulder. He would respond by hesitantly placing his hand at your waist. You snuggled into him a bit more, making him redder in the face, but also giving him a subtle you're doing great.

If he did ever get too uncomfortable, he'd pull a blanket up and around both your shoulders, giving him a sense of security. On another night, you tried to pull him into you. It happened throughout the movie. You would pull him in by his waist, and he would scooch closer to you, then he would prop his arm up behind you and press his cheek against your shoulder. This was definitely a favorite position of his. Some tiring days, he would nod off. You made sure to wake him before anyone noticed.

Privacy:

After a while, he'd especially love touching you in private. When you would sit on his little couch and work on your own things in his office, he would take breaks and come over to lay his head in your lap. If he's lucky, you'd be reading or doing something where you only needed one hand, so your vacant fingers could be used to lightly comb through his hair.

He would take any chance to be above you, leaning down over the couch when you were sitting and giving you light kisses, or wrapping his arms around you while he stood on the elevated platform his workbench was set on.

With all the issues he had to overcome, you noticed he never really seemed too upset over his height. He was an angelic all-powerful beast, it's not like he was forced to look that way. I mean, you saw him shapeshift, he could easily add a few feet to his height. Actually, sometimes it seemed like he enjoyed the height difference. Whenever you would have to bend at the hips to give him a level kiss, he would make the goofiest grin. Or when you'd wear heels, he would constantly offer to fasten them on your feet and shower you with affection, then in public, he'd place his hand around your hips instead of linking your arms like usual.

Goofy Stuff:

His overly confident mask that he would use to intimidate others and laugh off serious situations was finally becoming more sincere. You loved seeing him that way, bringing smiles to everyone in the room when he spoke. When it was just the two of you, all his energy went into making you smile. And it always worked, he would make you giddy.

He loved to simply be around you. When you had to get ready for some kind of event, he would sit next to you at your vanity, simply watching you doll yourself up. He'd praise you, "you look so beautiful, darling~" then he'd tease you, "you know, i think that color would look much better on me." And you weren't one to back down, applying a thick layer of gloss to your lips and pulling him in to transfer as much as you could onto his lips. You pulled away, unphased, and went back to your makeup. "Hm! I agree! I'll let you wear it more often, then." He'd stammer out some sort of angry reply and cross his arms over his chest, having to admit defeat.

When you'd come home and would need to wash your face, you'd repeat your skin care routine on him. He didn't need it, but he loved to feel your hands touch and massage his face. In exchange, you'd force him to let you groom him (preening his wings, maybe cleaning up his eyesbrows, styling his hair in new ways, etc.) If you had the energy for it, that is. It was like clipping a cats nails. But the reaction and the outcome were so worth it.

You'd do his makeup on occasion, sometimes going far too dramatic for his taste just to watch him struggle to admit it wasn't his style without insulting you. You'd admit it was on purpose, and he'd tackle you playfully. Like before, you both ended up with the same lip color afterward.

You loved to get eachother flustered, sometimes youd pat him on the bottom when moving past him just to see him dramatically gasp." My love, we're in public! Right in front of Keekee??" He'd dramatically gesture to the cat who quite literally left the room while he was talking.

He'd blow into your ear when you were distracted, sending a chill down your spine. You'd knock your head into his on purpose, and he would swoon, crying out about being mistreated. Truly a theatric man.

Overall, he was finally bringing a geniune confidence to the table and you couldnt be prouder of him.

18+ Intimacy:

He was quick to discover he liked all the fluffy, cuddly stuff, but it took him years to rekindle any kind of sexual attraction to anyone. It was another big insecurity that he had, wondering if it was one of the reasons he drove Lillith off. It's not like he had anything to compare his work to, but he definitely didn't need to worry. Practice makes perfect. (And he was with Lillith for thousands of years.. so... plenty of time for practice.)

At first, you'd take the lead. You didn't mind. You loved taking care of him. After he'd suggest you two become more intimate, you'd still have to stop after some deep kisses and light grinding. Not that he would finish so soon, he just didn't have the stability to even imagine going through a night with your intimate gaze on him for so long. After a while, you'd start sitting on his lap, constantly reassuring him and giving him praises for doing so good. "If you need to stop, let me know, my love. Tap me -" you would lead his hand to the top of your thigh, " - if you can't find the words, okay?" He would let out a nervous chuckle, subconsiously giving your thigh a soft squeeze at the motion before nodding his head.

You had to talk him through everything, and dear lord, did he love hearing your voice. As ironic as it is, he would melt at any praise you gave him." You're doing so good, sweetheart," "You like that, love? You look so beautiful right now~", "Mmm, keep that up, you're doing so well." No matter how much you tried to keep your voice calm and sultry, he really enjoyed and almost preferred your hitched breath and sweet words directly by his ear. The phrase that got him going more than anything? "I love you, Lucifer." The combination of those words and hearing his name slip from your lips almost always made him whimper quietly.

When you first heard him whimpering, you would subtly check on him, making sure he was doing okay without embarrassing him and calling it out. Oh, he was doing okay. More than okay.

You would usually proposition him, but sometimes, he would blatantly ask you if you two could be intimate. It was always so cute when he did that. But one day, he asked shyly for you to sit, then he hesitantly sat on your lap. Your rosie cheeks grew even redder, and you placed your cool hands on your face to try and calm yourself. It took you a second to finally look up at him, his expression even more embarrassed than yours. You hated to admit that it made you feel better, but it really did. You took your hands and placed them on his cheeks, which were much hotter than yours. He rubbed his face into your palm, his hand holding your wrist to keep your touch close.

After a moment, he'd lean down to kiss you, it was just bliss. The rare view he had, looking down to meet your eyes, left him happy to give in to his more intimate desires. After being seated on your lap for so long, and finally adjusting to the unconscious grinding that would go on, he'd start to reach for the edge of his pants without much thought. Once he had pulled out his shaft, your eyes would quickly widen and break away from the kiss to assess the situation. Before you could, he lifted your head back to look into his eyes, suddenly glowing red. "P-Please, can I.. i don't know if im ready for, b-but- I need - " his eyes were a threatening color, but you noted that he was still struggling with this decision. He still needed some time before letting you touch him that way.

You pulled him in for another kiss, "I won't look or touch, okay? That's what you want?" You clarified, running your hands through his hair. He nodded shyly, his hand still holding onto himself. You smiled and reconnected your lips. "Okay, love. I don't mind at all - " you reassured him, taking his free hand and kissing his palm. Looking up at him through his fingers, you grinned into his hand, grazing your teeth down his wrist." I would be honored, actually." You say bravely, the situation giving your boldness a boost. He would let out a nervous laugh that seemed almost too loud, then follow it by sucking in his lips to not embarrass himself anymore than he already has.

Keeping up with his speed, you did only what he was comfortable with. Doing only what he wanted from you. It made you almost arrogant to feel him stroke himself and whimper into your lips, getting off just from your kisses alone. You would break away only to leave some soft kisses on his neck. You attempted to leave a hickey or two below his jawline, but he quickly tapped your thigh, wordlessly telling you that was too much. "Good boy~" you'd breathe against his neck, seeing his chest heave at the words. You moved down to his collarbone and chest, slowly beginning to suck in and bite his porcelain skin there. He let out a muffled agreement and nodded his head, more accepting of somewhere that would be easier to cover. You left almost too many bruises on him after that. To be fair, any blossoming mark was exentuated against his sensitive, white skin.

It didn't take too long for him to finish after that. He let out a gasp, then a muffled moan as you felt some of his fluids leak onto your stomach. He didn't even let himself get over his high before pulling a tissue out of thin air and cleaning you up. You let your head lean back, looking towards the cieling as he situated himself, keeping your promise to not look until he's ready. "O-oooh dear.. That was... Gross, right? Sorry.." You quickly look at him and scoffed, holding onto his face and pulling it close. "Don't say that, Lucifer..! Thank you for trusting me with this..." You brushed your thumb across his cheek, his expression still disheartened." I wouldn't have let that happen if I didn't want it, you know that. Besides, if you're really concerned, i'll just have to join you next time." You teased a sly smirk across your face. His eye twitched, and you could feel the heat in his face return." Good lord, I don't deserve you." He squeaked out before standing up and almost tripping over himself, complaining about his stiff legs right away.

Side note: I feel like when he would complain about being sore at all, you'd joke at him and say things like, "Oh, don't be a baby." And he'd reply with a joke, "Woah there, save the dirty talk for the bedroom." And that's what triggers you to start calling him baby any chance you could get, especially in the bedroom.

Going all the way was a big step. He was more comfortable starting on top of you,  but just like before, he realized how much he preferred, loved, to have you ride him. You made sure he had the tapping system in effect, but he would constantly check on him the first time he asked to try it this way. You were almost ashamed to admit you got a bit carried away. With you almost hitting your high, you probably took on more than he could handle. You didn't realize until you looked down at his face. His eyes were shut tight, a tear or two rolling down his heated face, and his lips were parted and letting out pathetic little noises. A face that some might see as a demon drunk on sex, but you knew you had taken him a little too hard. You slowed down, his breath finally becoming lighter." I-I'm sorry.. I-I -" his voice was raspy as his began apolgizing." No - don't be. I'll be gentle." You finally started back up, a slow grind, after letting him catch his breath. "Remember to use your words, baby - " You took his hand and planted it on your thigh as another reminder to communicate his thoughts. He nodded, a slight hitch in his breath as you spoke. You went on to cherish a more intimate night with him.

That's how it started, but as time went on, your playful relationship came to the bedroom. Lucifer would be in the middle of grinding his hips into yours, attempting to say something flirtatious in your ear when his voice would crack, or he'd say something that didn't come out right. You'd cover your mouth in an attempt to not laugh." Oh, cmon! I'm trying to be sexy here." He'd waggle his eyebrows at you and youd bring him into a smiling kiss. "Well, i'd say you're doing a great job, babe." You spoke so sincerely afterward that he'd become a little flustered. "O-Oh.. you.. think so..?" You hummed against his ear,

"Nope~"

He'd let out an aggravated groan and start to get off of your lap." No-no! I'm sorry, i'm kidding! You're sexy, come back!" You'd laugh out, reaching for his hips and planting him back onto your lap." Damn right, I am." He'd grumble, smashing his lips against yours in a suddenly intense kiss. In all honesty, probably to shut you up.

---

You love him so dearly. You barely realize how much he loves you, maybe due to how badly he struggles with his words. As time goes on, all Lucifer wants is to give himself to you. Give every little bit of his love to the one who's spent so much time caring for him and helping him become a better person. He'd sometimes consider that he could never be able to return the favor.

But he would. You knew he could.

○○○

I'll still take requests for some Luci prompts if anyone's thirstin'

Also, I have over 100 followers?? Which i wasn't expecting to happen when I first made this account (literally made it just to look at Hazbin smut if i'm outing myself) So thanks for all the support! This is such a great community 🥹

[thefreakandthehair]

(don't bother) calling me when you're sober | rating: m | wc: 1.5k

content warnings: future fic, parental alcoholism ("falling off the wagon"), past parental neglect, minor character death (i've committed wayne crimes i'm so sorry but it's not shown, just mentioned), emotional hurt/comfort, ends on a happy, hopeful note despite the tags

“My dad called.” 

Eddie walks into the room, pinched eyebrows and flared nostrils lit up by the multicolored Christmas lights they string on the tree every year, one hand balled into a fist. The reaction  wouldn’t surprise Steve so much if this happened years ago, when Al Munson was still living in the bottom of a bottle of Jack, but now? 

It’s been eighteen years since he’d gotten sober, nineteen years since his last stint at Hawkins County, and fifteen years since making a genuine attempt to right the wrongs of Eddie’s childhood and build a relationship with his son. 

Fifteen years after Eddie let him in, let him try, let him earn Eddie’s trust. 

Fifteen years is a long time and to see Eddie so vitriolic in the doorway of their apartment’s living room— hands shaking, body shaking— Steve knows something must’ve gone wrong. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, standing from the couch and meeting Eddie where he stands, holding the hand not curled tightly around itself. 

“He’s drunk. He called, and he was drunk.” 

Steve’s chest pulls tight, his heart racing. What does someone say to that? What can someone say to assuage that kind of deep anger, pain, and betrayal? His thoughts are scattered as they try to make sense of what Eddie just said, and he’s even more grateful now that Ronnie wanted a sleepover with Aunt Robin tonight. 

“Eddie, fuck. I’m so— ” Before he can finish his thought, Eddie leans back against the doorframe, ripping his hand out of Steve’s and tangling his fingers in his hair, tugging. 

“How could he? How fucking could he?!” Eddie bellows, eyes squeezed shut. “He knew! He knew that if he ever did this again, I’d be done. For good. For forever. And he did it anyways! After eighteen fucking years!” 

His eyes fly open and Steve stands still and nods him on. There are just no words to fix this, and trying for the sake of filling the silence has never served him well.

“He did it anyway! Two days before fucking Christmas, a week before the anniversary of—” He chokes and cuts himself off. 

He knows what Eddie was going to say. A week before the anniversary of Wayne’s death. It’s been on his mind, too, of course. On his mind and in their conversations over breakfast with eccentric mugs of coffee, over the tangled lights that Wayne could always figure out. The year hasn’t been the kindest to them, particularly Eddie, and Steve wants to protect Eddie as much as he can from whatever he can. 

But he can’t shield him from this. Al Munson skips to the top of his shitlist.

“That son of a bitch!” Eddie rams his fist sideways against the door jam, leaving a sharp, red mark along his pinky. “He promised, and I believed him. Why the fuck did I believe him, Steve?”

Steve takes a step closer and grabs both of Eddie’s hands, carefully soothing the angry mark. “It’s been almost twenty years, babe. Trusting him with so much time invested makes sense. Hell, I did, too.” 

“I’m— I’m in my 30s, hurt and angry about the same shit I was hurt and angry about as a fucking kid. All the nights I slept in the backseat of the car because he blew his money at the bar, all the car accidents and court appearances and jail time, all the mornings I missed school because he didn’t know what fucking day it was,” Eddie rants, stopping to take a breath before picking back up, Steve’s own heart cracking and raging the more he speaks. 

“And every time he’d get sober, he’d always promise. He’d promise it would be the last time, and it never was. Not once could he choose his fucking son and I didn’t understand it then, but now that we have Ronnie, I understand it even less. If I was sick enough to walk away from her, I’d walk my happy ass to the nearest fucking rehab. I get that it’s a disease, I get it, I get it, I get it. But I can’t— I can’t do it again. Not this time. Eighteen years just down the fucking drain because of his company’s holiday party? How can I ever believe him again? Or trust him again?” 

Eddie’s voice grows raspier, breath shallow and quick, eyes watery. “Every time this happened when I was a kid, I always had Wayne. He’s the only person who really got it, y’know? The only one who lived it with me and now, I don’t even have him. My dad’s drunk, slurring his way through who fucking knows what on the phone, and no one else can fully understand the magnitude of what that feels like for me.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut again and drops forward toward Steve, forehead on his shoulder and arms loosely hung around Steve’s waist. Steve still doesn’t have words that bandage this up, but he knows how to show his husband love in other ways. Ways that, over the years, have become a language all their own. Steve pulls him in tight, one hand near his waist, the other cradling the back of his head. Fingers slide carefully beneath the hem of Eddie’s tee-shirt and rub little, repetitive circles into the small of Eddie’s back while he cards his other hand through Eddie’s hair, scratching his scalp and holding him to his chest to feel the rhythm of Steve’s own heartbeat until his breath returns to a steady pace. 

It’s only then that Steve speaks. 

“I don’t know what to say, Ed. It’s fucked up, and if you want to me like, hit him with my car, you know I’m game.” Steve feels Eddie laugh— just a few puffs of air through his nose but it’s a laugh all the same. “But I’m here, and we’re gonna figure it out, okay? Whatever you decide to do, we’ll do it together.”

Eddie nods and lets himself be led to the couch, Steve tucking Eddie into his side and pulling the afghan up over them. 

“I never want to be what Al was to me to our daughter,” Eddie whispers, not looking away from the tree. 

“Well, you’re ahead of the game, because she’s already older than you were when he started hitting the bottle hard. And I know there’s the genetic piece to it that everyone talks about, but nurture counts for a lot of who we become, too. Shit, I owe Joyce Byers a huge thank you for being more of a parent to me than my own were because she’s probably the reason I didn’t turn out like Dick Harrington. Ronnie’s never going to have an Al Munson in her life, because you weren’t raised by Al Munson. That’s not whose legacy you’re passing down. You’re passing down love, not pain.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple and feels his whole body sag into him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Eddie’s voice is quiet now, a far cry from his earlier venomous edge. 

Silence nestles onto the couch with them, a comfortable addition, as they watch the basketball game Steve had on before Eddie told him about the phone call. Watch is a loose description, actually. They're more just looking at a moving, flashing screen. 

“My hand really hurts, by the way,” Eddie announces, holding up the hand he’d used to punch the doorjam. “That was fucking dumb.”

“Maybe a little bit, but I get it,” Steve untucks a hand from beneath the blanket and outstretches his palm. “Lemme see?”

Eddie plops his hand into Steve’s and Steve takes a look, mentally working down the check list he’s memorized from his decade plus of EMT work. No obvious breaks, nothing looks crooked, Eddie’s able to move each finger and flex his hand without severe pain. 

“If anything, it’s just gonna be bruised tomorrow. But I’ll fix it,” Steve grins and lifts Eddie’s fist to his lips, carefully kissing each knuckle and paying a little extra attention to the pinky that delivered most of the blow. 

“I’m so in love with you, Steve.” Eddie rests his temple on Steve’s shoulder. “You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Steve agrees, chest fluttering despite the circumstances. “And I’m in love with you, too. You know that, right?”

Eddie snuggles in and wraps Steve up, full koala, as though he’s trying to get as close as possible without actually cracking Steve open and climbing inside of him. 

“Definitely.”

The next morning, Aunt Robin brings Ronnie home and together, they decorate the gingerbread cookies that only vaguely look like people but are good enough to pass for a seven year old. Halfway through, Eddie’s cell phone rings and the caller I.D. reads Al. Steve watches, worried that Eddie’s going to answer in the middle of their decorating. That he’ll forget Ronnie’s having the time of her life, and that in his righteous indignation, Eddie will leave the table to go fight and argue.

There’s so much to be said, and Steve wouldn’t blame him, but he breathes a sigh of relief when Eddie simply declines the call and sets about pouring more edible glitter onto his design with a smile down at their daughter. 

[literaticat]

I'm at my wit's end. I've spent a decade trying to break through - 10 years with 5 novels coming super close with a variety of big publishers, who rave about my writing, ideas, etc. Feedback has been mostly positive. One even rejected saying "I don't know why we're rejecting this, it's EXACTLY what we're looking for and ticks all our boxes, but we feel compelled to reject it anyway." Is there just a "Do Not Publish" sign on my head? How to keep pushing ahead after so long and so much rejection?

(OP continues...) "Sorry about the rant, Jenn, and I know there's not much you can say as you don't know my specific situation. But it's just maddening. 10+ years of my life! I know everyone faces rejection, but I seem to mostly get positive feedback and so many "close calls" of almost getting a deal - a lot of interest, but then it just peters out. That "compelled to reject anyway" just made me start feeling like I'm just fated to never be published, no matter what? I'm unagented now, starting from scratch..."

OK first of all -- that rejection, if that is literally what they said, is utterly insane. I have to presume (HOPE? PRAY?) that you are paraphrasing, that that is what it *felt* like to you, but that's not LITERALLY what they said??? Because there are certainly things where, on the surface, yes, this is what a publisher is looking for and it "ticks the boxes", but ultimately, it doesn't have that X-factor, je ne sais quois, or whatever -- so I can see a publisher saying something like, "while the writing is admirable and the premise is interesting, ultimately, we weren't compelled enough to make an offer for publication" -- which is ALMOST what you said, but there's a key difference that makes it actually normal and not insane. Because in YOUR version, it sounds like they are under an imperius curse or something, where they don't know what they are doing or why they are doing it, they just have to do it, even though it is against what WOULD be their better judgment if they weren't cursed. And... it's wild to think that a publisher would make a statement like that. (Maybe they were having a very OFF DAY???) -- BUT ANYWAY, on to the crux of your question/rant:

I understand your frustration. If it makes you feel any better (??), you're not alone. I know many -- MANY -- MANY career authors, who spent 10 years honing their craft, trying and failing, getting rejections, getting close-but-no-cigars, etc. I was chatting with a wise (and now famous) author I know, who spent 10 years or so in the query/wrong-agent/rejection/close-call trenches. She told me a theory that I feel pretty sure is right, though I don't have proof per se, it does track with my observations. She said:

Just about everyone who sticks with writing or the arts in general as a career has about a ten-year rough patch. That doesn't mean it takes everyone ten years to get published! (Though it does take LOTS of people 10+ years) -- Some lucky people get their break a lot sooner than that. BUT. Everyone has to pay the piper that ten year fee, either all at once, or in installments. So let's say you sell your book right away and start raking in the accolades etc -- fab! Just know that nobody stays popular and beloved forever, and at some point, the ten year slump is coming for you. Aren't you lucky that you're getting yours out of the way now?

OK, if that didn't work for you, how about this:

How to keep pushing ahead after so long and so much rejection?

You know you don't have to, right?

Like, if writing and seeking traditional publication is making you miserable -- you can stop. In fact, stopping may be a great idea.

I say this not to be discouraging, but rather, encouraging, actually. I encourage you to give yourself permission to prioritize your own mental and emotional well-being.

If you realize you miss writing and can't live without it -- go back to it! But maybe instead of having "publication" as your goal, your goal can be writing for the pure joy of it, without worrying about future queries or would-be agents or anyone else's expectations. What freedom! Embrace that!

Then when you do have a brand-new shiny manuscript, you can decide your next steps. Maybe it's trying again for traditional publishing, and this is the turn around the track that changes everything. (It should be close, if the 10 year theory is correct!)

OR, maybe it's self-publishing. (Lots of people have a lot of success there -- maybe you're one of them!) --

OR, maybe it's just chilling out and writing some more for your own pleasure -- creating art for the sake of creating it, for fun, for self-fulfillment, etc. Like, you know, a normal hobby, that nobody is expecting you to monetize or make into a "gig".

[drdemonprince]

I was in the car with a new friend recently and he was fuming about stress at work, and his rent going up, and I was sympathetic and bummed for him, and then he started yelling about traffic and freaking out any time a car took more than a millisecond to get moving and it freaked me out and I fell silent. I guess he could sense the energy changing in the air.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Am I bothering you?"

"It's okay," I said instinctively, unconvincingly, trying to convince myself to get over it, to not make him feel bad, to not make things about my feelings. I searched for a justification as to why my reaction was wrong. "I guess I forget what it's like to drive a car."

I used to get screamed at for moving too slowly. I exasperated my parents taking so long finding the momentum to get up and do things. I was spacey. Everything was always happening so quick. Where I wanted to put my attention was never where the world wanted me to. They needed me to care about car routes and traffic and appointment times instead of smooth pebbles on the sidewalk or birds. And my dad was always so furious in the car. Certain he was the authority on what made a good driver and that everyone else was not up to his standards. Ranting and yelling and flipping out so badly it made me cry and then put on a big smile to reassure him. I almost gave up learning to drive as a teen because my slow, plunking movements and insecurity on the road sent him into such a rage.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the evening," my friend said.

"You didn't," I reassured him.

I didn't want him to think I had a problem with him complaining about his life. That is what friends are for. It was the road rage that touched an unaged part of me, and brough that part forward so strongly I couldn't hide it. I couldn't fix my face. I almost started to cry.

It was the first time in a very long time that I've been well and truly triggered. Certain experiences in the present can make old parts of me reverberate; there's a ringing that you get inside when someone's shampoo smells like a bad old boyfriend or somebody touches you the wrong way without meaning to and you briefly go a little dead. That's manageable. It's a useful cue that something needs to change quickly before you freak out. I thank those triggers for existing. But this one. It caused an actual emotional phase shift straight to the past. Freeze up and then fawn it off, play along, make up for your own reaction.

It's crazy how unsafe I genuinely felt for a moment! And I tend to critique people who abuse the language of "feeling unsafe" for manipulative and white supremacist ends, so it is useful for me to get that reminder of just how reality-bending an acute state of triggeredness is. I tell people to use their words and regulate their distress and there I was, unable to.

I had forgotten one of the major reasons that I hate cars! That is how long I have been away from my dad and car-dependent culture and intense, mean impatience. I have made a lot of the right choices to protect me over the years, or else this upset would not be so unfamiliar.

[plutoispurplw]

Cardigan

Summary: Spencer is having dudes about his feelings towards JJ and reader can't bear it.

Couple: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Spencer being a bad boyfriend, mention of prision and drugs.

A/N: I just write this because haunted of my favorite blonde but ended up in cardigan. Second part is probably in saturday or sunday.

Second part!

All these years for what? He always gonna dude about their relationship.

After he was held hostage with JJ he started to act differently towards you, he was more cold and looked guilty when you tried to hug him.

In a case when you both shared a room, you lay down on the bed by his side, it was almost midnight. You try to move closer to him but he just moves away just a little, you get nervous for a moment but you decide to push the thoughts aside.

"Spencer I wanna talk with you about something important." You look at him in the eyes, sitting against the gray headboard of the bed.

"I notice that you've been acting weird and-"

He didn't let you finish, normally he wouldn’t do that and less in a conversation like this. "Please don't start now Y/N, nothing is happening with me. Let's just sleep okay?" The tone of his voice was annoyed and sounded tired, his facial expression was annoyed

You felt your heart break a little at his words but you tried to mend it by telling yourself that he maybe was frustrated with the case and that you have to stop overthinking.

Nothing was wrong.

You lay down again in the bed and put the beige blanket over your body and his. "Okay, I'm sorry, I was just worried about you and if something was wrong."

His expression changed again and he looked filled with guilt. "Don't apologize, you just were worried. Let's just sleep okay, sweetheart?" It was the name that he called you but it felt like ice against your warm skin. It was burning but you could bear it.

You started to be more worried, maybe he was having problems again with drugs? That would explain the guilty face that receives you when you kiss him.

Questions, that what you had so you started to ask him what was happening but he always denied everything, he thought that you were that stupid?

In the wedding of Rossi, you notice the looks between him and JJ, but you decide to ignore that even if it gives you a bad feeling in your guts, maybe you just were exaggerating.

Weeks later he and you were in the apartment, he was sitting on the couch reading a book, and you approached him and sat on his lap. Normally he would put the book down and kiss you but now he didn't do that, he kept reading like you weren't there.

"Spencer, what's happening?" Your voice was tired this time, you were tired of this, of never knowing what was wrong.

He put the book down and looked at you in the eyes, he looked annoyed by you again, and you felt hurt. "Nothing is happ-"

Now you were the one interrupting him, your voice was louder. "Stop saying that, I know something is wrong so just tell me what is happening."

He put you on the couch and got up, he was pacing around the living room, he looked stressed out and you were just looking at the floor. That's when he starts talking.

When you hear his words your mind when just blank, and your face doesn’t have any emotions for a moment, the only thing that could betray your sadness is that the characteristic light in your gaze is gone.

How he could heal and draw over your scars just to make new ones, scars that would never heal.

After that you started to cry, all your emotions were being poured into your salty tears. He tried to comfort you but you didn't let him.

"You feel something for her?" He stayed quiet, he didn't look at your eyes. That told you everything that you have to know.

How could he love her? You were the one who listened to his rants and facts. You were the one who comforted him when he had nightmares or couldn't sleep because of the memories from prison, from his addiction, from everything bad that happened to him. You were the one who always loved him and the one who would give their life without thinking for him.

"She is married and she has kids Spencer!" You yell at him, anger starts to grow inside you along with the sadness from your broken heart.

"I know," He calmly told you, how could he be calm after breaking your heart?

Maybe you weren't that important to him, maybe you were the consolation prize after all.

"Y/N, I love you, I need you to know that." His hands cupped your face, hands that were always delicate with you, like you were a doll of porcelain. For an instant, you were gonna get closer to kiss him, But you noticed his gaze, filled with guilt and pity for you.

You got up and ran towards the bedroom, the suitcase on the bed while you were filling it with clothes and your things. Tears wetting your clothes and your cheeks.

He then spoke again. "Please wait Y/N, calm down." He tried to hug you from behind you, it felt like he was trying to contain you.

You turn around and push him away from your body, from your embrace. "Stop saying that I need to calm down! You just said that maybe you still love Jennifer, how the fuck do you want me to feel about it?" You yell at him at the top of your lungs. You take a deep breath and keep packing your things.

He let you keep packing the suitcase, he didn't try to stop you again.

When you ended up filling your suitcase you walked to the principal door of the apartment, ready to go anywhere but here, you couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in the same bed where he told you that he loved you for the first time.

When you look back you find him with his eyes crystallized, the guilt was consuming him. Your fool heart broke again at the sight of him like this but your brain didn’t let you go back so you stepped out of the apartment.

After that you came to our friend's house and told her everything, she let you cry on her shoulder and told you to stay and don't go back still.

In the middle of the night, you woke up, wishing that this was just a really bad dream but that didn't happen, you were in the guest room alone.

Now you couldn't sleep without his welcoming warm that embraces you through the most cold nights.

After all, you always gonna be his second choice, the one that he could always count on to comfort him even if he didn't reciprocate your feelings.

You should know better than wanting to hug him and forgive him but you couldn't help that feeling, you thought that he was the love of your life, the father of your kids, the one you would die with.

You put your hand on top of your belly, how you were supposed to tell him that you were pregnant with his child after that? You didn't know what to do.

You felt like an old cardigan under someone's bed waiting to be found again and be used.

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

Hi hii I'm the one who sent the az request! AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!! 🩷🩷

would you write reader saying something she doesn't mean and making az cry and then comforting him? (Established relationship btw so like they're already mated) basically the same thing but roles reversed 😭 I'm sorry I just love angst to fluff too much!! Thank you and have nice day/night bb <333

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Azriel crying, slight mean Azriel.

At Least Tell Me

You slam the door as you go into your bedroom, everyone in the House flinching. Cassian walks into Rhysand's office, confusion all over his face. "What's wrong with Y/n?" He asks.

Rhys sighs heavily. "Azriel's on a mission, and he's coming back tonight." Cassian tilts his head. "Shouldn't she be happy?"

"Azriel didn't tell her that she left." Rhys sighs. Cassian's eyes widen. "How did she not-" "Azriel told her that he was going to visit his mother for a day and was going to return this morning. He has been gone three days, and Feyre darling told her yesterday that he was on a mission. Y/n has been slamming doors ever since." Rhys says, exasperated. Cassian shakes his head. "Y/n's temper rivals Nes, we may have to evacuate the house just because." Rhys snorts.

Time Skip-

Azriel lands on the balcony of the house, being greeted by his High Lady. "Y/n is pissed at you." Feyre says. Azriel's shoulders slump. "I know." "It's going to be bad." Feyre says. Azriel nods, and walks into the house, ready to face the wrath of his mate.

You knew Azriel was in the house. You overheard your older sister talking to him. But the rage bubbling inside was hard to keep a lid on it.

The door opens to reveal your mate, his wings drooped slightly. You turn to face your vanity, not bothering to make eye contact in the mirror with him. "I'm home." Azriel says.

"That's a first." You say coldly. Azriel sighs. "Y/n-"

"No don't you Y/n me! What the fuck Azriel?" You shout. Azriel flinches slightly, and the mask of the shadowsinger appears in that second. "I did what I had to do."

You laugh. "You did what you had to do." You laugh some more. "Did we hear that?" You yell, laughter erupting from you. Azriel rolls his eyes at you. "Azriel, you lied to me! Do you not see what's wrong with that? I was worried for you! I thought something happened to you!"

You come closer to him. "You don't need to worry about me." He says. "That was being reckless." You snap. Azriel lets out a cold, mocking laugh. "Now that's a joke. Miss Reckless, calling me reckless!" He scoffs. The shadows move about, flurrying in the range of emotions between the two of you.

You let out a yell of frustration. "See this is why I fucking hate you Azriel! By the gods, somedays I just want to fucking leave and never return!"

You cover your mouth, eyes widening. Azriel goes still, his shadows dropping. The house grows silent. You step back and Azriel rushes toward you. He kneels and clings to your legs. "A-Angel, I'm sorry. I'm so-" Huge sobs cut him off as he sobs into your stomach. "Angel please don't-" he sobs. "Please don't leave me. You can hate me all you want, just don't leave me."

Your heart breaks as you kneel to meet Azriel's height. "Oh no. Baby I'm so sorry. It cannot make up for my words and I'll do anything to make it up to you. Darling I'm so sorry." You wipe his tears away.

Azriel pulls you into his lap and buries his face into your neck. "Just don't leave me. Don't leave me." He sobs. "Oh baby, I'm not leaving you. I don't hate you, not at all. Oh baby." You coo, rocking the both of you left and right.

Finally, his sobs quiet, and he pulls away to look at you. "I'm sorry baby." You whisper. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry for lying to you. I shouldn't have. I should have been up front, and-"

You kiss him, interrupting his rant, and he desperately kisses you back. You break away and rest your forehead against his. "Do you want to take a bath first, then nap? Or do you want to nap, then take a bath?" You whisper. "Nap." He murmurs. He picks you up and carries you to your shared bed. You take off your dress, revealing your bra and panties, and Azriel strips down to his boxers.

You get into the bed first, opening the covers for him. Azriel follows right behind you and buries his face into your stomach, and you run your hands through his black hair, slowly putting him to sleep.

[vainvenus]

⌲;꒰ Head over heels. ꒱

Pairing(s): Vance Hopper x Gn!Reader

Summary: You're the only person Vance can stand being around or talking to.

Includings: No Grabber!Au, best friends to lovers, chill x hothead dynamic, kinda ooc vance, jealousy, bit of a slowburn, mutual pinning, happy ending tho!

An: First post for Vancey boy! 💪🏾

I don't like the ending bc it was rushed a hard to write

"And now I'm the one who's in trouble! Me? Because that fucking dipshit and his stupid ass friend bumped into me!"

You hummed in response so that he knew that you were still listening to him as you were looking for your dark blue lighter.

You were listening to Vance rant, having just learned that he was now banned from the Grab-And-Go for a week for starting a fight all because some boy's bumped into the pinball game he was obsessed with.

"It's fucking stupid and I should've kept pounding his head into the floor until he passed out."

You had found your lighter and grabbed a lavender scented incense, lighting it and letting the flame burn before you blew at it and put it in the incense holder.

"It was an accident, Vance. You should've handled it more responsibly and walked away from the situation."

He had furrowed his brows, he knew that you were right but he was still too stubborn to admit it at the moment so he rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. The fuckers should've watched where they were going." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded "Yes, they should have. I'm sorry you got kicked out, Vance. I'll make sure no one beats your high score."

Although Vance was in the wrong for him beating the boys up over a something like that you didn't want him to feel like the way he felt about the situation was invalid or him overreacting.

You walked over to your record player, going through a few of your discs to find something to play so that he at least wouldn't be in such a bitter mood.

You smiled softly as you pulled out one of the discs and put it into the record player, placing the stylus on it as it had started playing 'Dancing Queen' by Abba and you turned your head to smile at Vance.

"C'mon..I know you want to." You said, walking towards him and chuckling softly as you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up from his spot on the bed.

"I don't fuckin dance... especially not to Abba." He said and you knew for a fact that he was lying because the last time you borrowed his mixtape player it was one of the first songs that played.

"Dancing is a good way to free your body from negative energy. Something you seem to have a lot of." You had said as you swayed to the music, the sound of the multiple bracelets you wore shaking together.

Vance narrowed his eyes up at you "That's bullshit."

"Is not! Works for me whenever I'm angry."

He furrowed his brows "I've never seen you angry before though."

"That's because I don't show it. I don't let my emotions control my actions or mouth. I find better ways to release my anger."

Vance had thought about that sentence for a while. He wondered what you were like if you were to finally snap like how he does, furrowed brows and shouting profanities like a sailor.

"Dance with me, Vance! C'mon!!"

He groaned as he rolled his eyes and stood up from his spot on your bed and stiffly moved to the song like he was a robot and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?!"

"You dance like we're at our first dance together and the slow song just came on!" You had giggled. "Loosen up!"

Vance had glared playfully at you. "I thought this was a judge free zone?"

"Oh it is...just not for stiff dancers."

The boy had chuckled at this, a genuine one that showed his teeth and he couldn't even be mad about the situation that happened earlier.

It was always like this when he would go to you to rant for a bit, you would talk to him and make him feel like his feelings were completely valid, you reassured him every single time but scolded him rightfully.

You were the comfort he longed for constantly. That missing peace in his life. You felt like what home should've felt like for him.

You were sweet and caring. Not once could he think of a time where you yelled at him even if he was screaming his lungs out at you. You were understanding and he loved that, he love that you knew his better than he knew himself.

Vance loved you.

"Hey, Vance!"

He snapped from his thoughts as he looked over to you who was back at the record player, going through your discs once more. He was sure you had every song under the sun with the stack you had.

"Any song requests?"

"Hotel California."

"Gotcha!"

♡

When you heard your door swim open an slam shut you hadn't even questioned it at this point, already knowing who the culprit was.

You turned your attention away from the painting you were working on as you turned to look at Vance who looked like he was already angry if you couldn't tell by the door slam.

"What's the matter now?"

"Nothing. What're you doing?"

You had knew that he was lying but you would take care of what was bothering him when he wanted to talk about it so you gestured to the canvas.

"I'm painting. The sky's really pretty right now so I'm trying to capture it while I can." You had told him and he had rolled his eyes.

"You should try it. Painting can help let off steam." You said, dipping your brush back into the light pink paint.

You always tried to get Vance to paint or draw with you, telling him it was a good way to express his anger without yelling or breaking something but art just wasn't his forte.

"i don't paint. It's hard to work with and I'm not good at it." Vance had complained as he crossed his arms, standing beside you while staring at your painting.

"Oh c'mon, the last time you painted with me was a finger painting."

"I don't care."

You shrugged as you turned back to the canvas, glancing back at the sky before you went back and had glided your brush against the canvas, letting the music playing fill in the silence.

Vance shifted in the spot next to you, eyes glancing from the painting before back to the sky which was a mixture of soft purple, blues and pinks with the sun peaking from them.

He looked back to you as you were back into focus mode. Your eyebrows knitting together whenever you were like this and he couldn't help but smile a bit at the expression.

"Starings rude, y'know."

His face immediately shifted and he had scoffed "I wasn't staring, asshole! I was looking at the painting!"

"Mhm..you sure you don't wanna give painting another go? You don't even have to paint the sky you can paint your emotions and-"

Vance swiftly cut you off "Just give me a canvas and brush before you start with your hippie emotion bullshit."

You had giggled softly as you went to grab another canvas and easel, setting them beside your own as you gave Vance an empty pallette and set the paints between the two of you.

He picked up the blue paint and looked back over at you who seemed to be caught up in finishing up your painting and he had smirked.

He had opened it as turned his body a bit as he squirted it onto the palm of his hands, rubbing them together and pressing them against the canvas.

He watched as you turned to him with a smile before your smile had dropped. "Vance, really?! C'mon! I thought you were behind finger and hand painting! You're gonna make a mess!"

He had smirked, reaching out to touch you as you had backed away. "Vance Hopper! Don't!"

"Don't what? Do this?"

He had grabbed you arm to pull you towards him as he pressed his palm against your cheek now leaving a blue handprint there as he pulled away laughing.

"Asshole!" You had playfully shouted as you grabbed the pink paint and rubbed it across your palms, now pressing your hands against his face and he had laughed loudly as he pressed his hands back against yours.

You both pulled away to reach for more paint, a childish game now being played between the two of you as you were grabbing different colors.

Red, blue, pink, purple and yellow handprints were plastered all over your faces, arms and even shirts. Neither of you were mad at the mess though now on the floor and laughing at how idiotic the two of you looked.

"You're an idiot, Vance! I'm gonna have to take like four showers!"

"Oh stop complaing! You literally fought back."

You giggled as you looked at the red paint on your finger and rolled closer to Vance as you lazily drew a heart on the back of his hand.

Vance stared at the red heart with wide eyes before he looked back at you who had that same bright smile on your face that made his heart skip a beat.

"See, you could've just drew that on me but you wanted to be a childish asshole." You hummed, pressing red paint again this nose and Vance stared at you.

Yeah.

Vance had already fallen in love but he was falling harder.

♡

The next time Vance had came over he had noticed that you had the music playing again but he could also make out the sound of another person.

The two you seemed to be laughing together, the sound overbearing the song that was playing at the moment and he furrowed his brows.

He stomped up in the stairs and made a B-line for your room, gripping onto the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door so roughly that it slammed against the wall when he entered the room.

His eyes glanced from you who was staring at him with wide eyes gore he glanced over the person you had been laughing with.

Bruce Yamada. somebody he wasn't too fond of just because he was everything Vance wasn't. Popular (for the right reasons), kind and caring, not a bad bone in his body. Everyone either wanted to be him or be with him.

He noticed that you were holding his hand with a bottle of blue nail polish in your other hand as the two of you were staring at him with wide and confused expressions.

"Vance. Stop entering my mom trying to catch me doing drugs."

"The hell is he doing here?" He completely disregarded your statement, glaring at Bruce and oh if looks could kill the Yamada's would be having a funeral.

Bruce had only smiled that award winning smile at Vance though "We're painting nails! You-"

He had cut him off swiftly, venom dripping from his tone as he spoke "I wasn't talking to you, asshole."

You had frowned as you looked up at blonde, placing the nail polish back in the tube. "Vance you shouldn't talk to him like that. He hasn't done anything to you."

You were right, Bruce was innocent and all he did was answer his question but Vance was acting on his emotions right now which were pure jealousy and fury.

"And? I wasn't fuckin' talking to him so why did he even reply?" Vance spat and Bruce awkwardly sat there.

You had narrowed your eyes slightly at Vance before inhaling and exhaling softly, looking back to Bruce with a small smile.

"Bruce, I'm sorry to cut this short but can we continue another time? I think me and Vance need to have a talk."

"Yeah..of course. Sorry for..uhm.."

"No, don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. You told him, glancing back to Vance back to him.

"Get home safe, mkay?" You commented and he had smiled and nodded at this. "I'll call you when I get home. Thanks for having me." He had waved you goodbye, slipping past Bruce and out the door.

Once you heard the door from downstairs close you had gathered up the nail polish and put them back into your box.

You turned to turn off the record player and looked back at Vance who was giving a distasteful look to the wall.

"Wanna tell me what that was about?"

He hadn't answered, keeping his eyes away from yours and after a short while he had just shrugged.

"Don't just shrug at me." With the way you were talking with him he was sure you were irritated and it only upset him more when he realized he ruined your mood.

"That was completely uncalled for." You stated, gesturing to Vance who looked like a child being chided for the first time.

He shrugged again, his words being stuck in that lump in his throat and he watched as you crossed your arms, shaking your head like a disappointed parent.

"I don't know what made you so upset before you came here but it gave you no right to call Bruce names and get angry with him."

Vance knew this, he knew he was in the wrong all the way this time but he couldn't help it, always thinking with his mouth and fists and never that head of his.

He huffed "Yeah? Well, he shouldn't even fucking being over here....with you...alone."

You raised your brows, holding back the urge to scoff "So you're the only one who gets to be alone in my room with me?"

"No! I...I'm not saying that but-"

"Then what are you saying, Vance?"

And there it was, that word vomit that he had been trying so hard to hold back.

"I'm saying that I love you, okay?! I fucking love you and every time I'm around you I just fall harder for you!" He shouted, voice cracking like he was on the verge of tears.

"So yes when I saw you alone, painting nails and giggling with Bruce 'Hearthrob' Yamada I was a little pissed off!"

It was silent after that.

Not even any music playing in the background to fill it up, just complete silence and the heavy pants of Vance.

It was probably four minutes of silence before you had spoke up.

"So you mean to tell me..you were rude to Bruce because you were jealous?"

Vance had gave a small nod, biting on the inside of his cheek.

You had let out a huff, chuckling a bit "Vance...that had got to be the most idiotic thing you've ever done. I don't even like Bruce like that, we're like siblings ."

"Oh.." Vance mumbled, now more embarrassed than before. He would definitely owe the boy an apology at school tomorrow.

"And plus, I'm not really into baseball players, I like people who play pinball."

His eyes widened slightly as he pointed to himself "You're... You're talking about me, right?"

"No Vance, I'm obviously talking about Moose. Yes, you."

"Why me?"

You tilted your head in confusion "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why me? I'm not definitely not a dreamboat like Bruce or-"

He was cut off by your lips on his, that vanilla flavored ChapStick you always wore now glossing over his lips and he stared at you like a deer in headlights when you pulled away.

You tilted your head and shrugged "I don't want dreamboat Bruce or any other person you're about to name."

You grabbed his hand and held him softly while grinning up at him "I want been my best friend for years troublemaker Vance."

It was quiet for a bit and Vance rubbed his thumb over the palm of your hand after you made it pretty clear that you weren't letting his hand go.

"You sure?"

You placed another kiss on his cheek, pretending to think for a moment before nodding.

"Positive. Couldn't see myself with anyone else."

He had smiled and brought you close to wrap his arms around you and decided that walking over to the bed would just be too much and he slid down the wall onto the floor with you.

With you laying on his chest and playing with his curls that definitely needed a good wash or brush he had heard you mumble;

"Well...maybe Keanu Reeves..."

"[Y/n]."

"Joking! Joking! You gotta admit he's pretty though"

He gestured to himself "Am I not?"

"Oh you are! Prettiest boy in Denver. But have you seen Keanu Reeves?"

Sure he had competition with Keanu Reeves but at least he knew that he outranked everyone in Denver.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/platonic!OT7

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Part 3: Glow]

And suddenly, the thing you feared most becomes the only thing you can seem to trust.

Main tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Werewolf!Bangtan, strangers/enemies to lovers, romantic Jungkook x reader, Platonic bangtan x reader, eventual smut, mentions of past emotional/psychological manipulation, hurt and comfort, fluff!, some angst, actually a bit more than just some, but we're getting spicy

Length: 2.5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

None of it makes sense. Or at least, you refuse to let it make any sense.

Suddenly, the medications in your drawer look more like poison to you, as you anxiously unlock your phone to search up the name of it online. But the moment you do, you accidentally accept Jungkook's call- who's unaware of the panic you're in right now. "I was wondering where you were. You're not ghosting me right now, are you?" He laughs, jokes, but you can't really see any fun in it right now.

"I'll- Jungkook can I call you back later?" You say, trying to sound normal- but you don't, because Jungkook's now serious tone gives away the fact that he knows something's up.

"Everything okay?" He worries. "You sound upset." The alpha wolf states, and you sigh, running a hand over our face.

"Yeah- yeah!" You force out. "I'm good, just, a little sick. That's all." You stutter out, staring at the now opened letters from your mother and the final notice you got today.

"I'm sorry but I'm not buying that at all." He sighs on the other end of the line. "Do you need anything? Even just some company?" He asks, offers, and you're not sure about that. "I can just stay on the phone, too. Don't have to come over or anything-" He rambles, when you swallow thickly, cutting him off.

"Do.." You start, before you summon all of your strength to speak it out loud. "…Do you know a medication called Amatropin O-plus?" You ask, and he's quiet for a moment, before he answers you.

"I know of Amatropin A-plus. It's.. a prescription medication used to control instincts in prime-Alphas." He explains, and you put your phone down at that, putting your face into your hands. "Why are you asking?" He presses, saying your name after to gain your attention back.

"What the fuck.." You breathe out. "I'm gonna lose my job- my whole life-" You rant, deadline for your IC-evaluation test staring back at you, before you grab your phone. "How do I get out of an IC test." You demand to know, voice quivering.

"What are you talking about?" Jungkook asks. "An IC-evaluation is mandatory, you can't just get out of one. But why are you even-" He suddenly stops. "…I knew it." He suddenly says.

"Knew what?" You bark. "Knew what?! Has everyone been lying to me now?" You break, as Jungkook's voice is heard again.

"Can you let me in?" He asks, and you're not sure what he's talking about- when a knock is heard on your door. and as you open is, he's right there, ending the call before he slips his phone back into his pant pocket. And you're not sure why exactly you do it- probably some weird wolf-shit that you just don't understand yet, but you just open the door fully, and let him hug you for a good little while.

"What do I do now.." You whine, while he closes the door behind you, and wraps both of his arms back around you.

"We'll figure it out." He reassures. "Can you show me the notice?" He asks, and you part from him and sniffle, collecting yourself a little to walk him into your bedroom, where the floor is littered with ripped open envelopes, handwritten letters, and lastly- the notice, right next to your opened box of medication. You sit down in the mess, and he himself takes his place right next to you, taking the official notice for himself to read over it. "It's a final notice. Where are the other two?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Probably having been sent to my mother." You say, defeated. "God my whole life is over." You complain, face in your hands.

Jungkook doesn't want to pry, but as he reads some parts of the handwritten letters, he begins to put one and one together. It's not unusual- especially with omegas, situations like this happen more often than not, really. Parents hiding their daughters and sons either out of shame or fear- and in this situation in particular, he doesn't know which one it might be.

Some parents are ashamed due to the stigma russounding omegas. Others are afraid because of how they're treated, and how often they're the victims of crimes.

"She knew. She.. must've known that they'd send me this, right?" You ask, and Jungkook shrugs, trying to contain his own instincts right now. You've probably not taken your medication since yesterday now, because your smell is now a lot more present than he's used to.

"Absolutely." He agrees. "She probably didn't react to them either, which is why they searched for your personal address now for the final notice." Jungkook explains. "You can explain to them what your situation is though. I'm sure they can offer you more time to prepare."

"But I've been technically living alone in the city illegally, right?" You worry. "I've been working illegally- oh god what if I go to prison.." You whine, and he runs a hand over your back in comfort.

"You didn't know." He tells you softly. "I'll help you with things, okay?" He offers, and you nod, trying hard to calm down now. "And I'm sure you have a place with Namjoon and the pack too, if they really deem your score turns out too low to stay here." The wolf comforts.

"She's not even my actual mother." You mumble quietly, staring at the letters with an empty gaze. "She knew all along what I was, but she didn't want me like that. She just.. kept me because she promised my dad to take care of me."

Jungkook feels for you. Omegas aren't seen very fondly, especially not by humans- simply brushed off as sex-hungry beasts who can't even take care of themselves properly without a pack or alpha around or a dick inside them. Which is entirely untrue- but years of written fantasy novels and the misuse of them in online erotica and porn in general has given them a stigma they can't shed. Just like alphas are said to be violent creatures with no sense of control, Omegas are just filled with lust and nothing else.

He's upset at that. You don't deserve to be forced into a situation like this- no one does.

"But that's the past now." He tells you. "I very much want you just the way you are. And I promise you, the rest of the pack won't mind you either." He explains, and you nod.

"Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply, before you lean into him, clinging onto his warm body. "Thank you." You mumble, and he can't help but smile.

"No problem."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Not surprised." Yoongi says as he finishes his food. "She might've been able to fool other humans, but not other wolves." He says, while Jimin sighs.

"Poor thing." He sympathizes with you. "I remember my mom went through the same thing. She was so glad when I turned out to be a Beta." He remembers, and Jungkook nods.

"I'm going to try and push the evaluation date back as much as I can today." Jungkook explains. "There's no way she can just be evaluated in two weeks, when she's never even had enough time to prepare. It wouldn't be fair at all.." The alpha wolf complains.

"It's never unfair to them in any case." Namjoon worries to himself. "I still can't believe that they're still seen as something to be ashamed of. I mean, that's her mother we're talking about." He shakes his head. He doesn't know the full situation yet, and Jungkook also doesn't want to involve them too much until you yourself want to.

"I'm more concerned about her safety." Yoongi argues. "Is she taking her suppressants?" He asks Jungkook, who shakes his head.

"She's scared of them now. Refuses them." He explains.

"So you left her?" The alpha growls. "You left an omega alone, who's never even experienced her own Instincts without any control before, and is under added pressure of her entire life basically falling apart?" He scolds angrily, causing Jungkook to shrink in on himself.

Yoongi can be quite intimidating.

"Yoongi has a point." Namjoon offers a lot more kindly. "I'd suggest you either stay with her, or even better bring her here so she's in a safer environment while she adapts to things." He suggests.

"I can ask her if she wants that." Jungkook nods, before he gets up. "If not, I'll stay with her instead." He mostly tells himself, leaving the packhouse.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Hoseok wonders. "I mean.. we all noticed it.. right? Will he be okay alone with her?" He asks, and everyone grows a bit more quiet.

Because you're not just any kind of omega.

And everyone worries about the added challenges you might face because of that.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Maybe you should ask about a lower dosage before you just quit them like that-" Jungkook tries, watching you struggle with your clear headache next to him on the couch.

You shake it softly. "No, I don't have time for that." You deny. "I've got too much.. paperwork to fill out and all.." You complain, raising your head to look at all the unopened and opened letters on the table, stacks of paperwork ready to be read and filled out with your personal info as soon as you want to.

Or can, in your case.

"You do have time." He gently argues. "Half a year, remember? Six months to prepare, and these documents don't need to be signed for another three weeks." He attempts to explain to you. "Please think about your health first. Quitting medication you've been on for years just like that isn't a good idea." The alpha urges, and you sigh.

"I don't want them." You argue however. He knows it just has to be overwhelming- if not just mentally, then physically as well. Your body is entirely confused and out of balance now that the usual hormones and other ingredients of your medication aren't present any longer. And yet, you refuse to see anyone for it, and he doesn't know why

Is it shame? Embarrassment? And if so, what does that say about what you think of him?

But he swallows that down, or at least tries to, when you furrow your brows in confusion, suddenly looking around, before your eyes find him. He looks at you in question, when you stare into your kitchen in alarm, getting up to check- but on your way, you already stop, because no, that smell is not coming from there at all.

One look back just offers you Jungkook sitting still on your couch, confused as ever.

"I.. you.. smell that too, right?" You ask, and his golden eyes are unsure.

"I don't really know what you mean." He asks. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Something.. burning. I don't know. It smells like.. I'm not sure, like plastic burning almost." You cringe, and at that, his face softens.

"I'm sorry. That's.. probably me." He chuckles a bit as you walk back towards him to sit down once more. "Your senses are probably.. I guess returning as they're supposed to be." He offers.

"But- my meds are only for instincts-" You start, when he shakes his head.

"No, they're used to prevent sensory overload." He explains. "That's a bit different. It's to basically shut down all the things that make us.. well, different. Our instincts get shut up, our senses become dull, and in turn, our own scents and stuff become almost unnoticeable too because our bodies dont produce the same hormones and stuff." He shrugs. "Which is why I'm trying to tell you you shouldn't just cut them off like that. It'll be incredibly hard to go through that." Jungkook offers.

You feel horrible for him.

For years you believed all the stories told, never actually thinking about what he or any of his kind must be going through. He probably deals with all of this daily but knows how to handle it- and from what you read online, his instincts are even stronger than most.

Which is another thing you want to know more about.

"Jungkook.. what does 'prime' mean?" You ask. "It's.. like, it's in front of your sub-gender, and on the evaluation invite it said the same for mine." You wonder with a good amount of worry.

"That's something for another time." He offers, while you wince from the pain in your head as you move it too quickly to follow him with your gaze as he walks towards the kitchen. "For now, lets settle with some simple human meds for your headache, and then we'll visit a specialist, okay?" He questions, squatting down where you sit on the couch with a glass of water and some regular headache pills.

"...you don't have to go everywhere with me, you know." You mumble, reluctantly taking the items from him- mostly because your headache is getting unbearable at this point.

"I can ask someone else from the pack then- but you shouldn't be out in this state by yourself." He sighs, before he takes his place sitting next to you again.

"Why not?" You whine, after taking the pills and eagerly chugging the cold water down. Somehow, you feel thirsty.

"Because.. You're pretty much a walking target right now." He sighs. "Wolves might not be what they always say but they're still.. some have the potential to be dangerous, let's just say it like that." He offers. "Your scent alone.. is like a drug to alphas especially." He says.

You watch him for a moment.

"Even for you?" You ask, and he shrugs- and only now do you notice the sweat on his hairline.

"Even for me." He nods, before he smiles. "But I've got good self control, so no need to worry." He tries to joke- but you don't find it funny at all.

"I'm sorry." You shake your head, staring into the kitchen where the medications lay. "I.. didn't think about how this could affect you at all.." you apologize, but he just shrugs it off. "No- it's not fair on you at all. You're being nothing but nice to me and I'm acting like a child basically.."

"Your whole life got turned around. I don't blame you for anything." He just shakes it off, and it doesn't make the weight on your soul feel any lighter.

"Jungkook.." you ask quietly, and he leans a bit closer to hear you better. "Can we... still be friends now? Even though I'm.. an omega and all?" You worry.

And Jungkook just laughs.

"Of course we can."

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[itsss4t4n]

Hi!! Could I get some harry hook x male!reader where reader is the eldest child of Anna and Kristoff please? Also maybe reader looks just like his mum but acts like his dad? Thanks and sorry if it's too specific fjdjdjvjs

Always - Harry Hook x male!reader

a/n: I honestly think that reader personaliy is more like anna han kristoff. somehow i really struggled wih that. i lowkey hate this but i still hope you enjoy his <3

warnings: no use of y/n, making out, small fight/angst, ew emotions, I love some good drama, i hate this tbh, not proofread

When Mal decided to open the barrier forever, it was cerainly an adjusment for everyone.

The Vks that came over to auradon were enrolled into auradon prep and all assigned an auradon student to help them settle in and answer any questions they might have.

You weren't the biggest fan of that arrangementt. Not because you didnt like or trust the vks, you were actually quite close with all of the cour four. You just werent a big people person. So having to share your dorm with someone you dont know and most likely having them at your side 24/7? Not ideal for you.

Especially when you heard who you were going to be paired with. 

But Mal had basically begged you to help. 

"Please. I know you dont like this but he is kind of difficult and i know that you could handle him. I dont know anyone else that could."

So you reluctantly agreed.

Mal was right. Harry Hook was certainly difficult. He was really stuck in ways and refused to change. He refused to follow any rules, he was mean and he hated school. And the worst thing? He was stupidly hot.

Now, you hated school just as much, and you did skip a few lessons here and there but you had respect for your teachers and your peers. And you knew that unfortunately school was important for your future. 

Usually you couldnt care less if other people got on trouble but harry was your responsibility now, so everytime he got into trouble, you were getting dragged into it. And you hated it.

So thats how you ended up in fairy godmothers office for the 7th time that week (it was thursday) sitting next to Harry, who just looked bored while you were about to beat him up.

This has been happeneing for almost 3 months at this point.

"This can not keep going on. Harry If you cannot follow the rules and integrate yourself into Auradon then we might be forced to take stronger action." 

Back in your dorm Harry threw himself onto his bed.

"Well that a tad overdramatic aye?"

You couldnt hold it in anymore. 

"HARRY! THIS IS NOT A GAME! YOU KEEP GETTING IN TROUBLE SIMPLY FOR THE SAKE OF IT AND YOU HURT OTHERS. ARE YOU AWARE OF THE FACT THAT YOU ARE BASICALLY A FEW OFFENSES AWAY FROM EXPULSION?! AND IF THAT HAPPENS YOU BASICALLY HAVE NO CHANCE ANYMORE TO DO ANYTHING! NOT ONLY THAT BUT YOU RUIN MY REPUTATION WITH YOUR BEHAVIOUR AS WELL. JUST THINK ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE THAN YOURSELF FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE!"

Without looking at him you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

The rest of your day was spend ranting to Mal and Evie about Harry.  Mal hat texted Uma during your rant, telling her to speak with Harry. He would probably listen to her. She was his best friend after all.

You dreaded going to bed that night. Just being in the same room with him.

Uma left your Room just before you arrived, so when you entered Harry was sitting on his bed, a conflicted expression on his face. 

You decided to ignore him, just grabbing a pair of sweatpants and heading to the bathroom to change for bed.

When you exited the beathroom agin harry had also changed into sweatpants. GREY sweatpants.

Fuck. Was he trying to kill you?

His head perked up at the sound of the bathroom door. 

"Hey..."

You looked over at him.

"What Hook?"

He looked a little conflicted still, which confused you. Why the sudden change in mood?

"Look... I'm nae good at this but- fuck..." He sighed exxasperated. "I wanted to apologize."

You head snapped to him again In surprise.

"What?"

"I acted like a total dickhead." He started ranting, trying to get it all outbefore he mentally talked himself out of it. " I didnt care how I might hurt ya. And I don't even have a good reason for that. I was just scared. I was scared of being vulnerable. All I have ever known was the Isle. I am used to hiding myself behind a Tough outside and I was scared to change from that."

Harry quickly wiped his eyes of the tears swimming in them, hoping you wouldnt notice. But you did.

You were shocked by his sudden and surprisingly honest outburst. For a few very long seconds you just stared at each other.

"Harry...." You took a slow step towards him. "I'm sorry. I should've realized how hard this would be. And I know it will be difficult, but i promise you that from now on you wont have to hide anymore. You're safe here." 

Now, standing right before harry, you layed your hand on his shoulder. Harrys eyes met yours, once again swimming with tears but a small smile gacing his lips.

"Thank ye."

You reached up to wipe the tear that had fallen from his eye, your hand resting on harrys cheek, his head leaning into your touch.

You noticed how close you two had gotten. Your eyes flickering from harrys eyes to his lips for a split second.

"Harry?" Your noses brushed against each other ever so slightly.

"Yea?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"I really hope I'm not reading this wrong," You voice matched his. "but can I kiss you?"

Harry was silent, and for a few excruciating second you truly thought you were wrong. Harry was into guys, you knew that much. He didnt hide that part about himself. But did he like you?

"Yes please." 

A small sigh of relief left your mouth as you leaned in, your lips moving against his. Harrys hands moved to your hips, gripping at the exposed skin, thanks to your lack of shirt. In turn your hands wrapped around his neck, your fingers gripping onto his hair.

When you parted for air, you kept your eyes closed, your foreheads leaning against each other. 

For a few seconds all you could hear was you heavy breathing and your own heartbeat, loud in your ears, before Harry leaned in and kissed you again. His hands pulling you flush against his bare chest by your hips.

Once again you pulled back, this time a little more, looking into each others eyes.

"Thank ye, darlin"

"Always."

[normal-internet-user]

Hi there! i read your percy one and it was sooo so good, i was wondering if you could do “I didn’t know where else to go” with a percy x reader. and it could be like some sort of an enemies or rivals to lovers, i’m also a huge angst girlie and idk why.

thx so much hope you’re doing so well and have the best day!!🥰🥰❤️❤️💙💙

I'm a total angst girlie too, make me an emotional mess please and thank you-

....................................

SCARED FOR YOU

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: Percy Jackson shows up at your front door bruised and battered, god this boy was going to scare you to death..

Warnings: Angst; mentions of injury (not very descriptive); Hurt/comfort; No mentioned godly parents for reader.

Requested: Yea

GN Reader!

The last thing you ever expected to see at your door was your very own son of Posiden on the verge of unconciousness.

"Percy?! What the hell happened?" You let out a low grunt when he practcally collapses into your arms.

"I didn't know where else to go." He whispers, shuddering.

You huffed, hauling him into your apartment. Luckily your parent was at work, so you didn't have to worry about explaining anything.

You moved him to the couch as gently as you could, finally taking in the full stretch of his injuries.

"Oh for the love of Zeus, Jackson." You mutter, your heart racing, "Just- sit still. I think I have some ambrosia squares in my room."

"'Kay..." Percy mumbles, his hand pressed tightly to his side while his face was twisted into a grimace.

You rushed to your bedroom, digging around in your bags and drawers until you found the little tupperware container that held your emergency ambrosia.

You then moved to the apartments small bathroom and grabbed as many medical supplies as you could carry.

With your arms full, you ran back to the couch, nearly tripping over the rug in your hurry. You haphazardly drop the bandages and other stuff onto the coffee table, handing Percy afew of the ambrosia squares.

You decided to speed up the process by getting Percy a glass of water, but with the state he was in, he'd still need patched up.

"Were you followed by anything?" You asks quietly, lifting his shirt to clean one of the larger cuts the ambrosia couldn't deal with.

"No, I wouldn't have showed up here if I was." Percy says, setting the now empty glass on the table, "Thanks. For helping me."

"Well I'm not just gonna let you bleed out on my foorstep." You grumble, wrapping his chest, "You're an idiot. Ya know that? What were you thinking? You know what, nevermind. You weren't thinking."

"Aw, are you worried?" Percy asks, seemingly amused at how upset you were.

"Of course I'm worried!" You snap, glaring up at him, watching the amusement fade away. God he was so insufferable. Stupid Percy Jackson and his dumb pretty face.

"You could have died, Percy." You say angrily, pushing alittle harder than you mean to on one of his bruises, "But everythings just so funny! Haha I'm Percy Jackson and I don't care if I get eaten by a friggin' monster! Everything's just dandy!" you rant through gritted teeth, stomping over to the trash can to toss out the bloodied cloth you'd used to clean his wounds.

Percy stares at you for a second, before guiltily looking down at his shoes, "Sorry..." He mutters, "I uh.. didn't mean to freak you out."

"Well mission failed, Percy." You say, before taking a deep breath and sitting next to him on your couch, "I just... dammit- your really important to me, okay? If something happened to you-" You cut off your own sentence, crossing your arms.

"You scared the shit outta me.." You whisper, wiping away the building tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

Percy sits silently for a second, then he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so your pressed flush against his chest.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, his head tucked away in your shoulder, "I'll... be more careful.. just please don't cry..."

You sniffle, wrapping your arms tightly around him, careful not to irritate any bruises that still remain after the ambrosia. You press your face into his hair, the few tears that escape your eyes getting caught in his black curls.

The two of you sit there like that for gods know how long, just seeking the familiar comfort of each others touch...

....................................

This one took me a minute, but I think it turned out well. Lyn Lapid is the best writing partner ever, her music helps me focus SO MUCH-