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lancermylove · 2 days

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Dark Side of Dating Him 2 (Scenarios)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demons x gn!Reader

Warning: Detailed warnings before each scenario, but the scenarios are dark.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: I would love to see the even darker / more situational stuff for the demons 😳 or at least some of the bros

A/N: If you get sad easily, proceed with caution. If you like to feel the burn, enjoy. 😂

Series: [1]

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Warning: Angst, manipulation.

Barbatos had constantly been by Diavolo's side for the past three weeks. Despite being married, he hadn't spent a single night with you. You watched him from afar, missing his presence, yet a strange sense of calm kept you from feeling truly upset. Why were you not sad that your husband wasn't spending time with you? Though you couldn't answer that question, a series of unsettling déjà vu moments had been haunting you.

Standing near the throne room window, you observed Barbatos and Diavolo's meeting. Your husband's expression was unreadable - a mask of perfect composure as he listened attentively. But something about his demeanor struck you as off. The light that usually danced in his eyes when he looked at you was absent, replaced by a cold, distant gaze that sent chills down your spine. You couldn't shake the feeling that the man you saw before you was different from the one you knew intimately.

Who was the real Barbatos? Was it the devoted husband who showered you with affection or the inscrutable butler standing in the throne room? The more you pondered this, the more uncomfortable you became. Moreover, Barbatos had the ability to alter timelines and outcomes. The déjà vu moments - were they a result of him changing past events to create a more favorable reality? Had he altered your shared moments, erasing any friction or discontent to maintain a perfect image of your relationship? Had your husband used those powers against you?

You wanted to trust him, to believe in the sincerity of his love and the authenticity of your marriage. But the longer you thought about it, the harder it became to fight the doubts. The thought that he might have been manipulating your reality filled you with a sense of betrayal and heartbreak. What had he altered? What had happened in the past? You knew you needed to confront him to clear the shadows that clouded your thoughts, but would he allow you to find out the truth? All he had to do was use his powers to find a new reality and make you forget everything except your love for him.

Warning: Angst, degrading, depression.

Being a human in the Devildom was never easy, especially as the future spouse of Prince Diavolo. The demons of Devildom scrutinized you relentlessly, picking apart your appearance, your humanity, and your weak strength. They mocked your way of dressing, which they deemed unfit for royalty. Every aspect of your body was criticized, and your manner of speaking and laughing was a constant source of ridicule. Even the smallest mistake was subjected to their harsh judgment.

One evening, feeling utterly defeated, you decided to confide in Diavolo. He was your rock, and you hoped he would understand the toll this relentless criticism was taking on you. However, when you told him about the demons' harsh words, he simply brushed it off. "Do not pay attention to them," he said with a dismissive wave. "Their opinions do not matter."

His response stung, but you tried to push through. As the day passed, Diavolo became busier, consumed by his princely duties. Whenever you wanted a moment to talk, he would hand you one of his tasks and ask for your assistance. It felt as though your relationship had shifted from intimate to professional and cold. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the council members proved you wrong.

You stood by Diavolo's side as the council members openly criticized you. Their words were like daggers targeting your already fragile self-esteem. You looked to Diavolo for support, hoping he would defend you, but he sat silently on his throne. His eyes held a distant gaze as if the criticisms directed at you didn't matter.

"Endure it," he had once told you. "You need to learn resilience if you wish to rule the Devildom with me."

His expectation for you to bear their harsh words in silence and patience felt like a betrayal. You realized that, to Diavolo, your value as his future spouse was linked to your ability to endure, not your happiness or well-being.

Warning: Angst.

Being Lucifer's significant other came with its own set of challenges. The responsibility of his younger brothers often fell on your shoulders. Whether it was cleaning up after their latest mishap, calming them down from their frequent outbursts, or dealing with the consequences of their chaotic antics, it was an endless cycle of stress and exhaustion.

One evening, after another taxing day of managing the chaos, you were at your breaking point. Seeking some solace, you approached Lucifer in the hope that he would understand and offer some support.

"Lucifer, today was just too much," you began, your voice tinged with weariness. "Dealing with your brothers and all their chaos is overwhelming. I feel like I'm about to break."

He paused in his tracks, his expression stern. The Avatar of Pride didn't say anything for a moment but then broke the silence in a cold vice. "Cease your complaints. You need to learn to be resilient. You are excessively sensitive."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone. "But Lucifer, you don't understand how hard it is. I'm trying my best, but it's too much."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of impatience flashed in his crimson orbs. "You have developed a propensity for complaining and relying on me for every issue. You must learn to handle matters independently."

The words cut deep, and you felt a lump in your throat. "Why can't you just understand how I'm feeling?"

Lucifer sighed in irritation. "You need to be mature and learn to manage your own affairs. I cannot resolve your matters for you."

As if the conversation wasn't already painful enough, he glanced at your disheveled appearance. "And attend to your appearance. You look unkempt."

With that, he entered his bedroom and closed the door as if he didn't want you to follow him inside. The weight of his words pressed heavily on you, amplifying your already overwhelming stress. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to process what had happened. You had hoped for comfort and understanding from the one person who meant the most to you, but instead, you were met with criticism and dismissal.

Warning: Angst.

The memory of the two witches in the human realm haunted you. Their threatening presence, the malevolent glint in their eyes, and mocking laughter had reduced you to tears. They called you pathetic, and in that moment, you felt utterly powerless. Mammon owned them money, but the witches targeted you instead since they couldn't get to him. When you finally returned to the Devildom, you immediately sought the comfort of your most treasured possession—your grandmother's necklace.

But as you searched through your belongings, panic set in. The necklace was nowhere to be found. Frantic, you rushed to Mammon's room, hoping he might have seen it. "Mammon, have you seen my grandmother's necklace?"

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. "Uh, 'bout that..."

Your pulse quickened as you studied his expression. "Mammon, where is it?"

He hesitated before finally coming clean, "I sold it. I needed the money."

"You what?" you shouted, disbelief and anger flooding you. "That necklace is irreplaceable! It was my grandmother's! How could you do this to me?"

Mammon looked defensive and quickly raised his hands. "It's just a necklace, y'know. I didn't think it was that big of a deal!"

Your anger flared more at his dismissive words. "Just a necklace? It meant everything to me! How could you be so thoughtless?"

Instead of offering comfort or an apology, Mammon stepped back, his face a mask of guilt and fear. Then, without another word, he turned and ran. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face. The betrayal cut deep, and the loss of your grandmother's necklace felt like a piece of your heart had been ripped away. Mammon's actions and his cowardly retreat further added to your pain and made you feel abandoned. You had trusted him, believed in him, and he had shattered that trust for something as fleeting as money.

Warning: Yandere-like behavior.

The celebration was in full swing, and everyone was ecstatic about your recent achievement. But in the corner, Levi stood apart, his expression distant and melancholy. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for you — Levi truly was — but the pang of jealousy and self-doubt gnawed at him. Why couldn't he achieve something worth celebrating? Why did he always feel like a useless demon?

Over the next few days, he avoided you, refusing to even meet your eyes or speak to you. He wouldn't even allow you to enter his room or answer your calls or texts. When he finally talked to you, his voice was filled with desperation and vulnerability. "Do you love me?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

"Of course, Levi," you replied without hesitation, but you didn't fully understand why he was asking you this question.

Following that conversation, Levi's behavior changed drastically. He became increasingly possessive and would not let you talk to anyone else, not even his brothers. His jealousy flared and led to arguments if he saw you talking with them. You tried to understand and accommodate his feelings, but his possessiveness became suffocating.

The more you pushed for space and independence, the more Levi spiraled into darkness. He clung to you with an obsessive intensity, convinced you were his and only his. The fear of losing you consumed him, driving him to extreme measures to keep you close. You were at your wit's end.

"Levi, you can't keep doing this! You can't control who I talk to. This isn't healthy for either of us."

His eyes darkened with a mix of hurt and anger. "You're mine, (y/n). I won't let anyone take you from me. If I can't have you, no one else can."

His chilling words sent a shiver down your spine. The Levi you once knew was nowhere in sight and was replaced by someone consumed by possessiveness and insecurity.

Warning: Angst, Violence.

The memory of the chair flying towards you was still fresh in your mind, just another reminder of Satan's uncontrollable rage. Though Satan had done it accidentally, the thought of the chair hitting you at high speed made you shiver. Lucifer had been furious when he found out and dragged Satan into his office for a severe lecture and punishment.

Later that day, your boyfriend appeared at your door, his expression calm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to throw the chair at you. It was an accident."

You nodded, accepting his apology. "It's okay, Satan. Just try to control your anger next time."

The second he heard your words, he sighed in relief. However, Satan's expression darkened the next moment, and he began to badmouth Lucifer. "That pompous tyrant doesn't understand anything. Always lecturing, always punishing. He's the worst!"

"Lucifer isn't wrong, Satan. You can't just lose control like that. It's dangerous," you sighed.

His eyes flashed with anger at your words. "So you're taking his side now?" he spat, his voice rising. "You think he's right and I'm wrong?"

You stood your ground and firmly nodded. "Yes, Satan, you were in the wrong. What you did was dangerous."

That was all it took. Satan's anger erupted, and in an instant, he transformed into his demon form. His eyes glowed with fury as he grabbed you and slammed you against the wall, his grip so tight you thought your bones would shatter. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe, and the pain got overwhelming.

"Satan, please stop," you begged, your voice trembling. "You're hurting me."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as his blind rage had completely consumed him. The pressure intensified, and you cried out in pain, feeling helpless and terrified. Fortunately for you, Beel stormed into the room. "Satan, let go of (y/n)!"

With a great effort, Beel managed to restrain Satan and pull him away from you. The two brothers struggled, their powerful forms clashing, but Beel finally managed to drag Satan out of the room. The noise and chaos terrified you, but all you could do was curl up in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. You had always known about his temper, but this was the first time it had been directed at you so violently. Did this mean that if he got angry enough, he could take your life?

Warning: Angst, cheating, suggestive, depression.

You had always known that Asmo was a flirt. His charm and compliments were part of his nature, and you had tried your best to brush it off. After all, he was a friendly demon who loved to make others feel special. But for the past few weeks, you had noticed him disappearing at night, and a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest. You tried to deny it, convincing yourself that it was harmless fun. Yet, deep down, you knew what he was doing.

One day, you returned to the House of Lamentation earlier than planned. Without knocking, you entered his bedroom, and your heart stopped at the sight. Asmo was in bed with two other demons, and none of them had anything on. Your boyfriend lay in the middle, his arms wrapped around their perfect bodies. When his eyes met yours, he gave a playful smile without a hint of shame on his flushed face.

"(Y/n)," he said in a seductive voice. "Why don't you join us? The more the merrier!"

The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. The "Avatar of Lust" wasn't just a title - it was the bitter truth. Your heart shattered, and you fled from the room, tears blurring your vision. That incident plunged you into a deep depression. The pain and betrayal you felt were overwhelming, and you found it impossible to care about anything, least of all yourself. You stopped your self-care routines and paid no attention to your appearance. The vibrant person you once were faded into a shadow.

At first, Asmo tried to comfort you. He brought you small gifts and tried to cheer you up with his usual charm, but every attempt he made only led to arguments. You were too hurt to accept his gestures, and he was too proud to understand the depth of your pain. Eventually, the strain became too much. One day, after another argument, Asmo looked at you with a coldness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, (y/n)," he said, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held, "You've let yourself go. I'm not attracted to you anymore."

The severity of his tone left no room for doubt - Asmo was breaking up with you. The man who had once made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world was now telling you that you were no longer worth his time. You stood there, numb, as he walked away. The realization settled heavily within you: Asmo had never truly seen you. To him, you were just another conquest, another fleeting pleasure.

Warning: Angst.

You checked your wallet and sighed. Feeding Beel and keeping him happy had drained every cent from your wallet. It felt like the only reason you earned money was to feed your boyfriend's unsatiable appetite. As you slumped on Beel's bed, you heard Belphie enter the room with a loud yawn.

"What's wrong?" He sleepily asked.

"I'm broke," you whispered. "I spent all my money on food for Beel."

Belphie scoffed and plopped on his bed. “You should have been prepared. The House of Lamentation is broke most of the time because of Beel’s appetite. But you do know that he can’t control himself, right?”

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you snapped at him. “Then why don’t you use your money to feed your twin?”

Your words started an argument; your voices echoed through the halls, but you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to notice Beel entering the bedroom.

"What's going on?" Beel asked, worried.

Belphie wasted no time and replied, "(Y/n) was complaining about how they were broke because of your need to eat. They want me to use my money to feed you, so they don't need to feed you anymore."

The older twin's eyes were saddened as he glanced at you. "Is that true, (y/n)?"

You wanted to explain yourself clearly, but your words came out jumbled and defensive. “I just...I didn’t mean it like that, Beel. It’s just been hard...”

Belphie cut in, his voice mocking. “See, Beel? They can’t handle it. Maybe they’re not worth your time.”

“Shut up, Belphie!” you snapped.

For a moment, Beel's eyes widened in shock, but the next, they hardened. "Don't talk to him like that again, (y/n). Leave!"

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Beel, please, I didn’t mean-”

“Just go,” Beel interrupted, his voice breaking slightly.

Belphie smirked in satisfaction. "You heard him. You're not worth his time, and he deserves better."

Tears blurred your vision as you turned and fled to your bedroom, your heart heavy with regret and confusion. You collapsed onto your bed, the tears flowing freely now. The pain of the breakup and the argument weighed heavily on you, and you cried yourself to sleep.

Warning: Angst, spoiler from OG.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pouring your heart out to Belphie. Your voice cracked with each word as you recounted the emotional turmoil you had recently in the past. It was something deeply personal that you had never shared with anyone else. When you finally turned your head to look at him with tear-filled eyes, hoping he would understand, you saw him fast asleep. Frustration boiled inside you. How could he fall asleep when you were sharing something so important? Tears rolled down your cheeks as you shook his shoulder, but he remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

The following week was supposed to be special—a date you had planned with Belphie for your first anniversary. You had looked forward to it all week, imagining how wonderful it would be to spend time with him. But the hours passed, and the meeting time came and went. Belphie didn't answer your message or pick up your calls.

Somewhere in your heart, you worried something had happened to him, but your mind already knew why. A quick check of his room confirmed your worst fears: he was still asleep. The carefully planned date ended in disappointment, leaving you feeling neglected and unimportant. Later, when he finally woke up, he muttered a half-hearted apology for missing the date. His words lacked sincerity, and he clearly didn’t understand how much it meant to you.

A few weeks later, you found yourself in front of an enraged demon who hated that a human was in Devildom - a hater of Diavolo. Panic surged through your veins as you fled and desperately dialed your boyfriend's number. The phone rang endlessly, but he never picked up. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear gripping you tighter with each passing second. With no other options, you called the older brothers.

They arrived in time to help you before the demon could hurt you more or kill you. Exhausted and shaken, you returned to the House of Lamentation, your body aching from the ordeal. You headed straight to Belphie's room, your emotions a tumultuous mix of fear, anger, and betrayal. As expected, he lay in bed, barely awake. Even after he noticed your tear-streaked face, disheveled hair, and minor cuts on your skin, he remained lying down.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly, his voice lacking genuine concern.

That was the final note. Your emotions broke, and you yelled at him in a cracking voice. "I almost died today because you wouldn't answer your phone! I was in danger, and you were just sleeping!"

"Sorry."

A weak apology was all he could offer, and the next instant, his eyes shut again. He was asleep once more. You stood there, stunned and heartbroken, staring at his sleeping form. Did he not care that you had nearly died? The memory of your past death at his hands flashed before your eyes, reminding you of the cruel reality. What else were you expecting from someone who had once killed you? The weight of your disillusionment settled heavily in your heart as you turned away, feeling more alone than ever before.

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➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

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ithebookhoarder · 15 hours

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It's completely fine if you don't do this but I loved your Colin one, so can you do how the other brothers would react if they found out you were pregnant??!?!?!?!

Unexpectedly Expecting (Anthony / Benedict Bridgerton x AFAB!reader):

A/N: Thank you for sending this in! I'm combining this with another request - I hope that's ok? 👇 As both were on a similar track, but I can always do more later on this because who doesn't love imagining the Bridgerton boys with little ones?! 🥰

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, references to doctors and medical professionals, pregnancy symptoms like nausea and morning sickness, mentions of trouble conceiving a child, sex references, swearing, blood (let me know if I missed any!).

Masterlist:

Anthony Bridgerton:

As Viscount Anthony would likely be expecting to have children and heirs of his own and yes, it would be a concern if you weren’t falling pregnant as a couple. However, I think it upsets him more than anything because of how upsetting it is for you. He loves you and seeing you beating yourself up and making yourself sick with worry is heartbreaking.

He has so many siblings and they have children so the Bridgerton estate and line will continue, he soothes, hoping it would take some pressure off of yourself. If you fall pregnant then that would be a blessing, but you weren’t a failure. In fact, for all he knows, he could be the issue. It’s impossible to be certain either way and he would never let you take that on yourself. Any arguments you’d have would be about that and nothing else.

“If you think I will sit here and allow you to abuse yourself in such a way then you are sorely mistaken, my love-“

“-You don’t understand, Anthony! This is my fault. Even if you do not agree. To society, to the rest of the world, the blame will lay solely on me! That’s all that matters!”

“No! You are all that matters and I will not allow you to keep torturing yourself this way. We will stop, do you hear me? No more talk of heirs or blame or anything to do with the subject. Let us just enjoy our life as it is for now. The future is unimportant.”

Violet would side with Anthony, as would all his siblings. They love you too and want you to be happy - even if Violet does offer some tips and insights on ways one could assist with falling pregnant, but only at your request.

Still, when you’re not with child months later you start to lose hope.

It gets worse as more of the Bridgerton siblings start getting married and falling pregnant. They would never rub it in your face, but it doesn’t make it any less painful when you see them or their partners caressing their bumps or discussing what names they could choose.

You’d wish them well, obviously, but inside you feel like you’re dying. Even Anthony holding you close and pressing a comforting kiss against your cheek does nothing to raise your spirits.

With each passing day you become just a little more certain that you’re not destined to have a child… which is why you’re utterly stunned when you miss your monthly bleed - not once, but twice…

You didn’t say anything at first, obviously worried that it was just delayed from your recent stress. However, when it happens again you start to dare to hope for the impossible and you’re all but racing to get a physician to confirm the diagnosis.

As soon as you do, you’re racing straight back to your husband to share the good news. You don’t care if he is in a meeting, at his club, with his family or even in the middle of the street. You still sprint to his side and blurt the news for everyone to hear.

The tears are instantaneous, as is the cheer of delighted disbelief he gives, throwing his arms about you and spinning you around until you’re both dizzy. “This… this is the greatest blessing we could have received, my love. I’m so happy… we’re going to be parents? We’re having a child?… oh, lord. We’re having a child.”

This man has been acting as a father to his siblings for so long you have no problem imagining him taking to the role like a duck to water. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be scared out of his mind to think of the responsibility of raising a child of his own.

You can expect this man to be badgering his mother with a never ending list of questions - heck, he’d even swallow his pride and ask Simon and Daphne for advice if it came to it. After all, ‘if Hastings can do it, it can’t be too difficult’.

You’re laughing too hard to even try and correct him.

This man would be so protective of you whilst you were pregnant - especially after the troubles you’ve had getting to this point.

“I really think you ought to have a maid accompany you when you journey to and fro. I should hate for something to happen to you."

“Anthony, I’m only going for a walk around the garden!”

“But still-“

Anything you could possibly need he has already bought three of them. No expense is spared for you and your unborn child - including summoning doctors from their beds in the middle of the night if you even think something might be wrong with either you or the baby.

Speaking of doctors, he would fight anybody who tried to banish him from your side when the time comes. He and his mother, should you wish her there, would be at your side the whole time. They would be your biggest cheerleaders and would do whatever they could to ensure you were cared for and supported, whether it be mopping your brow, holding you as you pace around, or advocating for you against any doctor who tries to violate your wishes about the birth.

And when you are finally handed a crying, wrinkled, cherub with Anthony’s eyes… well, it’s all worth it. You have never felt a love as pure as this, except for when you met Anthony, and nothing can ruin such a perfect moment.

Benedict Bridgerton:

Benedict would be so calm about possibly having children with you. If you do have children, then they will be loved and adored - obviously. But if you don’t? Then that doesn’t matter. It means you two can continue your adventures together for a while longer, travelling wherever your heart desires, visiting galleries and indulging in your bohemian lifestyle with all your friends.

You have your freedom - even more so now that you’re married. Society doesn’t care what you do now that you’re no longer on the marriage mart. It’s liberating, and any pressure to produce heirs comes from only you or your loved ones, so it’s non-existent.

However, if you did want children then Benedict would be more than eager to help create them… and get creative about doing so.

“Benedict! That is not how a child is conceived… no wonder you’re a student of the arts. The academy of science would never admit you with such a lack of understanding about basic anatomy!”

“You’re right, my dear, but you have to admit - this is a hell of a lot more fun.”

He would be nothing but supportive of you and so gentle every time your monthly bleed approached, especially if nothing happens. He understands how your hopes rise and how hard it hits you when you realise it hasn’t yet worked. He’d never insult you or diminish your feelings.

If anything, he would be quick to shoulder any possible blame, refusing to let you even begin to suggest that it has anything to do with you or your body. You are perfect. End of - and he’ll fight anyone who suggests otherwise.

“You can’t rush things, angel. After all, the best things are worth the time and effort. Michelangelo took over four years to finish the Sistine Chapel, and Da Vinci sixteen years to paint the Mona Lisa. Some things are worth the wait… and if it doesn’t happen how we wish, then we’re already creating something so beautiful between us. Our family will be perfect, no matter how it looks, how it comes about, or even when it does.”

And when it does? Well, then you’ve never seen him look so happy, tears pouring from his eyes as you confirm the good news.

You also fear for a moment that he’s about to swoon, he goes so pale and he even starts to breath heavily as he paces back and forth, muttering ‘I… I’m going to be a father? A father? Me?’. His imposter syndrome would hit him with full force and it would take several weeks for him to process it enough to calm down and be excited rather than terrified. However, he’d never have been anything other than positive towards you. You know it’s his love for your unborn child that makes him panic about being a good father.

Also, he would be SO supportive once you are expecting. He would be there holding your hair back if you felt nauseous and bringing you endless cups of tea without you even asking.

He wouldn’t complain in the slightest about staying in with you, rather than going to whatever social events his family had organised. As he argued, it gave him ample time to finish whatever piece he was working on next and he got to keep you company in the meantime.

I just feel he’d paint something for the baby, whether it be a piece to hang on the wall of the nursery, or the wall of the nursery itself. You’d find him stood in front of the nursery wall, covered in paint, but beaming ear to ear.

“It’s beautiful, Benedict.”

“Well, our baby should be allowed to enjoy the full beauty of a spectrum of colours, rather than just ‘white’ on the walls - and the sooner they begin to understand the art of composition, the better in my opinion.”

You would also be receiving gifts from all your artistically minded friends, which is heart-warming. They’d crown them their newest ‘little liberal’ and would devote themselves to ensuring your off-spring would have a well-rounded eduction about the higher arts of life - something Benedict is keen to endorse.

“When are they not ‘too young’ to have an art tutor?”

“Maybe wait till they can hold a paint brush first, Benedict.”

“What about poetry?”

“Again, I think they should probably learn the alphabet before we try them on Wordsworth or Donne.”

Given what he says in his book I know he’d secretly want a girl but you know that as long as it’s happy and healthy then that would be enough. After all, it would be yours, made from your love in a living, breathing creation greater than any painting or sculpture.

He would be awe struck when you hand them to him, afraid he might break them somehow. He would just sit and stare at them for hours, admiring them like the finest sculpture.

“I promise to be the best possible father you could ever want, my love. I will do whatever I can to protect you and make you, and your mother, feel cherished. I won’t let you down… even if you turn out like most of your Uncles and have no idea what the difference is between a sonata and a sonnet.”

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benendict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton

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chgridlock · 21 hours

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Fine. LN- pt 4.

Part. 3 here: https://www.tumblr.com/chgridlock/749755983679586304/fine-ln-pt-3?source=share

Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends, Lando being a dick sometimes.

The morning light, harsh and unwelcome, streamed through Lando’s blinds, pulling him from a restless sleep. He didn’t even wait for the insistent buzz of his alarm. Groaning, he reached for his phone, the glowing screen a beacon in the pre-dawn, a silver of hope flickering within him.

His heart dropped like a stone. No new notification. Disappointment washed over him, a bitter taste in his mouth. He stared at the blank screen, replaying last night's messages in his mind. The frustration, the simmering anger, the helpless concern- all tangled up in a knot that tightened with each passing second.

He wasn’t sure what to feel anymore. This whole situation had stirred a chaotic cocktail of emotions within him. Worry, of course that gnawed at his gut like a hungry beast. Anger, hot and sharp, at your stubbornness. Irritation, a dull ache at the back of his mind, at your disregard for your own health. Guilt, an unwelcome guest in his thoughts, for his earlier callous wish. An beneath it all, a sliver of something else, a concern that went beyond simple friendship.

He sighed heavily, throwing back the covers and forcing himself out of bed. Despite the emotional turmoil churning within, he had a day to dace. Anything to distract him from the constant thought of you tucked away in your apartment, feverish and alone.

This whole thing felt irrational. Why did he care so much? You were just being yourself, stubbornly refusing to admit vulnerability. “Just a simple case of stubbornness and annoying behavior,” he muttered himself, trying to convince his heart of a thrush his mind couldn’t quite accept.

He went through the motions of his morning routine, a practiced autopilot to keep his thoughts at bay. But it was futile. Every mundane task - brushing his teeth, making coffee- sent his mind wandering back to you. He reply’s your dismissive message, picturing the grimace on your face as you typed it. He remembered his own frustration, his simmering helplessness.

Then came the guilt. The way he’d lashed out about your lack of self-care. And finally, the undeniable worry. The worry that have culminated in a desperate need to check on you.

He sighed again, a defeated sound. Grabbing his phone once more, he typed out a message, culminating in a desperate need to check on you.

“Hi,” he wrote, the single word with unspoken concern. “Is everything okay now? Did your fever get worse or anything?”

A wave of relief washed over Lando as his phone buzzed, quickly replaced by a surge of worry as he read your message. “I literally feel like I’m dying gosh,” it read, a stark contrast to your usual behavior. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Still?” He typed, the question hanging heavy in the air.

He couldn’t believe it. A whole night had passed, and you were still feeling this awful? The image of you flashed in his mind. He paused for a moment, trying to to chose his words carefully, “Have you at least taken the meds for your fever…or seen a doctor?” He finally typed.

He waited, his heart pounding in his chest. Your response arrived all of quickly: “it’ll pass.”

He groaned- There you were again, brushing it off like a minor inconvenience. His frustration bubbled over, tinges with a touch of anger. You were being so irresponsible.

“Just take the damn meds,” he typed forcefully. “Or see a doctor…” He paused, tossing around a crazy idea.

“Or I’ll have to come over and take care of you myself…”

He knew it was a ridiculous threat, considering the distance between them. But the though of you lying there alone, miserable and neglected, was unbearable. He hit send, a mix of irritation and concern churning in his stomach.

Another message pinged on his screen. You needed to sleep, you said, the curse word a testament to just how bad you were feeling. Lando felt a surge of exasperation mixed with a strange pang of sympathy.

He sighed, defeated. He knew pushing you wouldn’t help. “Just… sleep then,” he typed with a resigned air. “And don’t forget to take the meds…” he trailed off, leaving the implied threat hanging in the air. “Or else..”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Did he really want to storm over there and take care of you? I mean, in the past he craved for that. The thought now was absurd and yet… so tempting.

Lando’s heart plummeted as read your response. “I don’t have,” it read, hanging in the air like a confession of neglect. He raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t jus a simple annoyance anymore. This was full-blown worry, tinged with a hefty dose of self-reproach.

“You really don’t have any meds at all…” he typed, the words heavy with disappointment. He couldn’t believe you’d gone a whole night without even a basic painkiller to dull the ache. Had you eaten anything? Were you even bundled up in something warm?

He slammed his fist against the desk in frustration, the sound echoing in the silence of his apartment. How could he have let this get so bad?

“Did you take anything else? Are you taking enough care?” He bombarded you with questions, having against hope that you’d done something, anything, to soothe your discomfort.

But your following message stopped him cold. “Look Lando,” you wrote, the flippancy in your words a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation, “Im dying but is fine, didn’t you want me to get sick?”

His eyes narrowed, his initial frustration morphing into something else entirely. Was that… sarcasm? A twisted joke? His mind raced. Was this a cry for help disguised, or were you genuinely bitter about his earlier callous words?

Lando’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a knot of guilt tightening in his stomach. He wanted to express his remorse, but finding te right words felt impossible. Finally, he typed, “I didn’t wish for you to get sick to he point that you were dying…”

A beat later, your response arrived, laced with exasperation. “Jesus Christ, Lando” it read.

He winced, the sting of your words a well-deserved punishment. “Shut up,” he replied, shame burning in his fingers. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was a stupid thing to say in the heat of the moment, and i only meant for it to be a lousy cold, nothing serious.”

“Great!” You replied, the sarcasm dripping from your text.

Lando rolled his eyes, a small part of his frustration returning. “Don’t act like you weren’t infuriatingly stubborn yesterday!” He fired back, swift and fiery.

“You were the stubborn one!” Your responde came back “Good fucking bye.”

The sudden silence that followed hit him like a physical blow. He stared at the black screen, the last message hanging there, a stark reminder of his idiocy. You were right, you always were. He’d been the stubborn one, and now you were paying the price.

A surge of panic washed over him. “Wait,” he typed, a desperate plea hanging. “Don’t ignore me, damn it…”

But his message was met with silence. He spent the rest of the day glued to his phone, his heart sinking with each passing second. Every notification had him scrambling, only to be met with disappointment. The worry gnawed at him, a constant companion alongside the guilt that twisted his gut.

The world throbbed with a dull ache, mirroring the pain in your head. Each breath felt like a chore, your body heavy and sluggish. Lando’s messages swam in and out of focus on the screen, his words blurring together. You felt a flicker of anger, a spark amidst the fog of your illness.

“Good fucking bye”, you typed, your finger hitting the send button with a satisfying click. Who the fuck does he think he is, you muttered to yourself. He said he was coming over if I didn’t take care of myself? What was he thinking being now so caring and…and sweet… wait, no, no. He’s a dick, utterly and bitterly dickhead egoistic shithead… but it would be nice to have him here, like old times, feeling his arms around…NO. This must be the fever playing tricks with me. Oh how i hate being this vulnerable fuck.

The phone slipped from your grasp, clattering on the nightstand. You didn’t have the energy to puck it up, the effort too much. Closing you eyes, you drifted off into a feverish sleep.

The day stretches on, each tick of the clock an echo of his growing worry. Lando went trough the motions of his routine- work, dinner, a mindless TV show- but his focus remained fragmented. He stole glances at his phone constantly, hoping for a notification, a message, anything to break the silence.

Frustration warred with worry. Were you truly sick, or were you simply ignoring him after their heated exchange? Finally, after a full day of agonizing silence, he hesitantly picked up his phone and hoped a simple “Hey…” The single word hung up in to the air, a fragile bridge between them.

He pressed send, holding his breath. Seconds turn into minutes, silence stretching uncomfortable. He finally consider calling, a desperate need to hear your voice overriding his usual hesitance.

“Yes?” The voice that answered was barely a whisper, raspy and strained. The sound of your voice smelt a jolt of worry straight to his heart. The playful defiance of your usual voice was replaced by a vulnerability that tightened his throat.

“Are you alright…? How are you?” He blurted out.

The reply came back, raw and desperate, “Like fucking dying, my fever is not coming down.” Lando’s heart clenched. Parted of him wanted to yell, to remind you of your stubbornness, how you refused to take care of yourself. But the bigger part, the part that truly cared, drowned it out. He took a deep breath, forcing calm into his voice.

“How high is your fever now?” He asked, his tone firm but laced with concern.

“Hmm, like…40 degrees,” your voice whispered back.

A groan escaped Lando’s lips. 40 degrees? That was dangerously high. The worry that had been simmering all day erupted into a full-blown panic. He couldn't just sit here anymore.

“40 degrees…?” He repeated, his voice barely a whisper too.

“Yes…” the single word confirmed his worst fear right now. A surge of protectiveness shot through him. He couldn’t just wait and hope for the best. He needed to see you, to make sure you were alright, to take care of you the way you wouldn’t take care of yourself.

“Im coming to your flat now,” he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Don’t even try to stop me.”

Silence descended on the line. He held his breath, waiting for you inevitable protest.

“Lando, no,” your voice came back, weak but resolute.

“Y/n,” he countered, his voice firm but gentle, “your fever is 40 degrees. I’m coming over.”

“Lando, don’t-“

“Shut up,” he interrupted, surprising himself with his own urgency. “I’m coming over and that’s that.”

He wouldn’t allow room for debate. He knew you well enough to understand you might still try to downplay your condition. But this time, he woulnd’t let you. He cared about you, damn, deeply, too much, fuck. The thought of you being alone and potentially getting worse was a terrifying prospect.

He hung up the phone before you could argue further. “Fine, you’re making me doing this y/n.” His focus was singular - get you, take care of you, and make sure you were alright.

Author’s note: HELLO LOVES. Sorry for taking THIS long to post, but college is hard guys and I’ve been sick twice so yeah, not much time, I’m sorry. But summer is coming and that means more time to write. Not really happy with this chapter but God know that the next one is going to be good. Tysm for reading this. Love u all. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tag list: @persiar9 @mia-rrrs @ssararuffoni @kapsylia @formulaal @sparklysharknerd-blog1 @f1fantasys @landosgirlxoxo @moonclaine @charlesgirl16 (for some reason I’m not able to mention all of the users, don’t know why its happening, trying to find a solution. Sorry loves for that.)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #fanfic #lando #lando norris #lando norris angst #lando norris imagine #lando norris mclaren #lando norris one shot #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando x reader #mclaren

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oceantornadoo · 1 day

Text

mad max: the 141 (price x f!reader)

ch 2: your first night

canon-typical violence, sexual violence is referenced (but will not happen), general misogyny. the 141 are the good guys, just a bit rough around the edges

series masterlist (also has more world building info)

you reminded john of rabbits, creatures he'd heard about from campfire stories. your dress, like their fur, white as limestone. you were jumpy and small, fast as the devil. he could feel your legs tense against his, had felt it for the past three hours of the bike ride. ready to hop off and run, to take your chances in the sand and storm of the wasteland. he didn't blame you.

dusk had fallen as the 141 approached their home base. you were already jumping off his bike when he slowed down, eager to put space between the two of you. smart girl. john price did not consider himself a good man, even though he had met men much worse, men who were not man at all. sometimes, he felt that same instinct lurking underneath him, just out of reach.

base was just a small outcropping of rocks. this couldn't be right. suddenly, gaz had disappeared from your view. then, silent as his name, ghost did as well. your eyes finally adjusted to the quick coming darkness and you took in the sight before you. a hole in the ground, covered with a metal frame. a door to the underground. they had hidden their bikes behind the rocks, the shadows playing tricks on your mind. any traveler would pass this place without a second thought. the captain (you still didn't know his name) hid his bike in a similar matter, then gestured to the hole. "down you go." like alice in wonderland, you thought, images of your precious century-old books coming to mind. you jumped.

gaz caught you gracefully. you murmured your thanks, still unused to having male hands touch you so easily. you were no longer a shiny piece of metal on the shelf, you had been taken down for play. in any sense of the word.

electric lighting flickered around the cavern. there were several tunnels leading into the distance, further underground. you stood in a common area, the group's supplies scattered throughout the room. it was lived in but clean, a rarity in a world like yours. the air smelled the opposite of dryness, almost like-

"water?" the captain was offering you drinking water from a canteen. you looked up at him in confusion. "real water?" ghost grunted an affirmation from somewhere in the vicinity, but you were too busy locking eyes at the captain to get specifics. his eyes were so focused on you, so unaware of the kindness of his gesture. was he prepping you for a future as his wife? that must be it. must be why he was so concerned about your period. either way, you were dehydrated from the long drive and took the canteen greedily, slurping at the water. unprincesslike behavior, not fit for a wife, but you didn't care. he'd get what he paid for.

"how do you have water?" your voice croaked slightly from disuse, the water smoothing out the cracks in your throat. "springs. down one of the tunnels. s' why it smells damp. s' our little secret, yeah?" you gaped at gaz's response. with access to a hot spring, they could be kings. they could have a hundred wives each, slaves in the thousands, become kings of the springs in their own right. yet they made small attacks of shipping trades and deals for princesses of gastown? you didn't understand. they seemed to lack the innate violence you thought was required of human nature, of the existence of man.

"long day, yeah? let's regroup tomorrow." the captain led you down the tunnel as you quickly said goodnight to the other outlaws. despite your propensity to save water, your palms grew sweaty. this was when it happened. this was when he'd take you to bed and make you a wife. or at least someone to get mother's milk from. you hoped he'd be somewhat gentle, hoped the other's wouldn't hear your screams. you were so lost in your thoughts you didn't notice the captain had stopped, directing you to a bedroll.

"would you be gentle, please? if i can ask? i won't ask for anything else." your voice sounded tinny in the room, as if another had asked it. the only sound was the echo of the far off spring. the captain paused his state of undress, clothed in only his underwear. you averted your eyes, quelling any attraction that bubbled up in your belly. you were a virgin, had been groomed to be one, but you had had other experiences with some men in gastown. you knew the electricity of attraction, the zing of the moment. you reminded yourself that the captain was your owner, not your lover, and that quickly ended any other feelings.

"gentle, love? what d'ya mean?" he was sprawled on the bedroll, all muscle and fat and hair. his body corded with the results of labor, hidden under a layer of fat that showed his status. you shrugged back your shoulders, reminding yourself you were a princess. "when you bed me." he let out a bark of laughter, turning you shy. were you too proper? you didn't like the other words men used, your stepfather used, when they talked about the act. they felt dirty on your tongue, like spending a night in the desert sand. "'m not gonna fuck you, love." fuck. he said it almost lovingly, like he revered it. tongue tracing the vowels like he'd traced your stomach earlier.

"then...the belt? you bought me?" he patted the bed roll and you finally laid down next to him, less afraid of him now. "'s all politics, sweetheart. i don't fuck people who don't want me inside them. if you ask me, i'll fuck you good. but only then." people. as in not just women. not unheard of, but never blatantly referenced. you wondered about the other outlaws, images of them undressed and sweaty under the captain coming to mind. with the casualness in their interactions, you weren't surprised. some part of your brain, a part you had thought was long gone when you had been sold, conjured another image. being shared. just like that you shivered in the cold dampness, and it was gone.

"body heat. come on." you finally laid against him, back touching his bare chest. he covered you with the threadbare blanket, slinging his arm around your waist and the other under your head. like a personal pillow. the thought was so insane you almost giggled, and he relaxed at the feel of your body calming. his rabbit was finally less jittery, ready for bed. his paw spread against your stomach, callouses brushing against soft skin. he reveled in the feel of your stomach, not concave like most in the wasteland. his pampered princess, cuddled against one of the most feared outlaws in the land. you covered his hand with your own, brushing against the hair there. he nuzzled your neck, memorizing your scent. the sound of it sent a bolt of arousal straight to your core, but you ignored it.

"goodnight, captain." no wonder you were so scared of him. he hadn't told you his name. "s' john, love." your throat hitched. john. "goodnight, john." he hummed against your skin, his own personal goodnight back.

you fell into a dreamless sleep, the events of the day washing in and out. until the atmosphere changed, the feeling of being watched waking you up. you felt john adjust behind you, the feeling of his body draped around you. you could even feel his cock lay heavy against your ass, resting. your eyes blinked open through the darkness of the cave, searching. and you found it in the man sitting a few feet away, cloaked behind a red mask in the shape of a skull, mohawk standing straight.

you screamed.

i don't usually write virgin readers but i felt like it made sense for this world. going to try to make it a small deal so every kind of reader can relate. shorter chapter, hoped yall enjoyed!

#simon ghost riley #tornadothoughts #ghost call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #john price #captain price #cod price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #mad max au #john price x you #price x y/n

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luringfantasy · 3 days

Text

One by One 6/7 (final chapter part a)

PRELUDE

You were snooping around Loki's stuff to find his chest full of sex toys. He was not very pleased about it and has decided to punish you by using all his toys on you, one by one...

based on this imagine |

previous main masterlist

Warnings: use of "pet" names, BDSM, dom Loki, sub reader, female reader

MINORS DNI

NO PROOF READING

You were waiting. And all you did was to wait for Loki, but Saturday did not come, and neither did you..(XD). Loki was pulled into a mission, and it just kept getting extended week after week. You worked for Tony and occasionally for SHIELD, you hated Hydra, but this time the hate was personal.

Those damned creatures kept Loki away from you, kept you from his glorious dick, how dare they!

Private Number : Prepare yourself, I won’t be stopping this time, little pet. -L

You knew exactly who this was, your heart started beating fast receiving his text like this, was the wait over? Although you decided to tease him a little bit.

You : who dis?Private Number : You are asking for trouble y/n, you know perfectly well “who dis” is.You : idk, it’s been so long, i might have forgotten Private Number : I see, perhaps my little dove needs a thorough reminding.

Him addressing you as “his” little dove made your heart soar. You have been working with him for so long, but didn’t realize that he even saw you as a friend let alone “his”. This was a conversation for future you. Much much later in the future, after you get a ride on his glorious, beautiful cock, mmm, definitely after that. Your thighs rubbed against each other, you would definitely not mind Loki “reminding” you. Though you didn’t know how much of anything you would retain once he started to fuck you.

You : When will u be back??Loki : Eager are we?

You imagined he must be chuckling lightly at your desperation.

Loki : Soon enough dove. And until then, you will save your sweet nectar for me and only me. Not even your own fingers should have a taste of what is mine!

Oh god, you were already desperate for him, using your own fingers to mimic his, trusting you silicon friend more often than not, and he wanted you to wait?

You : 😭😭Loki : Are you that happy?You : Wats there to be happy abt? U r being unfair.

You waited for him to say something but figured he was busy or maybe he didn’t deem this important enough to discuss. His word was final, he was letting you torture yourself, make you wait. You receive occasional texts from him, which did not help at all.

Loki : I am having the finest chocolate and I still want you on my tongue.Loki : Darling, do you know the traffic light system?You : ???Loki : Hmm, I suggest you look into it...

??? Seriously, what was this man thinking? You were now concerned for your safety. But the idea of Loki going feral on you turned you on more than it scared you. An inner voice told you that you should probably seek help, but, when have you listened to it when it concerned Loki?

After a week or so, you fell into a routine with him, texting him whenever you got some time. On days when he didn’t text you, you worried. And then patiently waited, hoping he was well. But it was impossible for you to wait, you almost went against his words to relieve yourself, but stopped at the very end. Then one day you were not so lucky, and very very very desperate. Your will power broke, and you had one of the best orgasms in a while, almost as good as the ones Loki gave you. The waiting does add to the intensity.

But now you are scared. You knew you cannot lie to Loki, he is the god of lies, but you didn’t want to confess to him either. You were already in this arrangement because you were going through his stuff behind his back, and now you broke his rule.

As a few days passed the guilt ate you from the inside, so you confessed to him over text. His reply was worse than anything you could have expected. It was an “OK.”, that too with a full stop! You were expecting him to reprimand you, but this meant only one thing, that he will take care of this matter when he arrives.

Loki : My place, right now.

This is the text you had been waiting for! Fcking finally. Finally some fucking! The last two weeks took a toll on you, not only did you abide by Loki’s rule and were super frustrated, you were also anxious about how Loki would punish you, for breaking his rule.

You were prepared for this evening for a very long time, you even bought a new pair of dark green lingerie for him.

As you walked towards his door, it hit you. The delicious smell, coming from his place, filled the whole corridor. Did he get you food? Before you even knocked the door, he opened it (damn his god powered hearing).

You immediately went in for a hug. “I missed you! You took too long for this!”. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you into him, then you felt him breathing you in. “And we both know that you lack any patience…” he whispered into your hair, which made you stiffen immediately, prompting a chuckle out of him.

(To be continued)

Thankyou for reading my work. And, well.. just thankyou.

TAGLIST: @lokixryss@alyeskathewave@ladymischief11@tukes@yelkmelk@crimson25

#loki #loki imagine #loki marvel #marvel mcu #mcu loki #loki smut #loki x you #dom!loki smut #loki x reader #lee!reader

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magicbystarlight · 2 days

Text

Before I Knew You (AU Part 3)

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One, AU Part One

Summary: What if the fall of the Ministry didn’t interrupt the wedding? For @pearlsofme

Warnings: 18+, minor character death, unedited, AU, accidental pregnancy. Minors DNI.

A/N: A short one!

You didn’t linger under the downpour of the shower. It felt too much like the rain. Kingsley and Bill were gone. Other Order members needed to be checked on, plans needed to be made. You had no clothes of your own. Only the ones covered in mud and blood. Your hands had been shaking too much to try to clean them. The towel was wrapped tightly around you as you walked the short path to the room at the end of the hall.

Bill had said any room.

His bed was still made before you slid into it. Bill must not have been sleeping. You clutched the pillow tightly.

—

You hadn’t meant to sleep. Exhaustion had gotten the better of you when the adrenaline wore off. Bill slipping in the bed beside you woke you only long enough for you to turn and curl into his waiting arms.

—

Nausea greeted you in the morning, but passed with the knowledge everyone else had managed to get away. Kingsley’s escape with the Minister hadn’t been anticipated. He’d managed to get out Patronuses to warn the others. Whatever surprise attacks the Death Eaters had planned were ruined. The Burrow had been their main target and Scrimgeour’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gotten away, though not with the others. Bill said no one knew where yet, but they were sure they were safe. If Harry Potter was dead everyone would know.

Instead the Daily Prophet arrived with the headline: “From Hero to Murderer: Harry Potter Wanted for the Death of Minister Rufus Scrimgeour.”

You were wearing Bill’s clothes when Arthur arrived with the dipping sun. He tried to offer sending you off to another safehouse—the plan for you to come here had been made prior to the wedding—but you refused. Bill snapped the handle off his mug when his father asked if you were sure.

“Thank you for worrying,” you said, pulling Bill’s hand from the broken ceramic and knitting your fingers through his, “but I’m sure.”

—

The next weeks were tense. Communication was kept to a minimum. Even with each of the Order's locations under their own Fidelius Charm, it was too risky. It left you and Bill with only each other.

The hang ups you’d had before didn’t matter. There was no guarantee you would survive to see the end of the war. Not with the man who sought you out over his master’s greatest threat. Why deny yourself some semblance of happiness for a heartbreak that may never have the chance to happen?

It’s easy to be with him. Silence or conversation, sleeping together or sleeping together, it’s like breathing. When the worry and stress began to wear on your stomach, causing more and more mornings to be spent with nausea, he was patient and accommodating. Never once did he complain about a plain meal nor your occasional inability to finish one. He offered more than once to see if someone had any ginger, but it wasn't enough of a concern to risk communication.

But in the last few days his concern seemed to magnify. He’d been having you practice defensive spells when you failed to block one of his spells. You were knocked backwards. The fall hadn’t been hard, you were in sand, but Bill treated it as if you’d been hit with an Unforgivable.

“I’m fine,” you’d said, staying in the sand to catch your breath. “Been hit with worse.”

“But you weren’t—” he cut himself off and huffed. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Maybe we should take a break.” His forehead rested on yours.

“I need to practice.”

“We will. Later.”

“Bill.”

He kissed you softly. “I hate when you use that tone.”

You grumbled in response, but allowed the training to come to an end. You were exhausted. It’s later that night when you’re curled into his side in bed that he asks, “Do you think that you might not be sick from the stress?”

“Unless your immune system is better than mine, I don’t think it can be anything else.”

His hand rubbed your back. “Love,” he said softly, “I think you might be pregnant.”

Part Six

Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog

@pearlsofme @minstens @sofriane @sheeple @hotleaf-juice

@elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter

@cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable

@psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian

@pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid @solkee @m-rae23

@queenofbeingdepressed @smolmexicangirl @mae-foster @seb-buckybarnes @idga-fudgeicle

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie

@itsccc @pancakefancake

#bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x you #bill weasley fanfiction #before i knew you

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kimetsu-chan · 2 days

Note

hi, so it says that all requests are closed, and I’m assuming that means emergency requests too..? Because it’s ‘ALL’

But when they open could you write a Muichiro comfort fic for me…? So basically what’s happening is that I’ve been feeling extremely suicidal, and depressed. I came out as a therian to my mom, she’s been very unsupportive and called me mentally unstable and not developed, a Therian/otherkin is a person who identifies as a non-human animal on a psychological or spiritual level based on animilastic urges and/or behaviours…. And I’ve just been having really bad dreams and thinking a lot about my past how my father abused and almost killed my mom, got her into a coma, and I would think of running away and thought it was my fault. My father sexually harassed me. I have anxiety, think I’m annoying, hate myself stuff like that.

so why I’m in need of a Muichiro comfort fic is bc every night I draw marks on my wrist ok, and so every night I try cutting it, each night trying to go deeper or hold down the knife longer…

so that’s why maybe when requests open I was wondering if you could write one for me…

Thankyou for reading this all… have a nice day☺️ and feel free to ignore me I’m used to it! <3

~Not Tonight~

A/N: first of all, I am incredibly sorry for the miscommunication, emergency requests are open, I should’ve conveyed that better. Secondly, I am extremely saddened to hear of what has happened to you :( it’s not something you should deal with. I hope that this could be the comfort you need, and I apologize if it is not on par with what you require right now. Please take care of yourself <3

TWs ⚠️: sh will be heavily implied in this fic, along with thoughts of suicide being mildly implied, please do not read if such topics are uncomfortable or triggering.

This takes place after he regains his memories

It was extremely odd, the way you wore the longest sleeves even in the hottest weather, it perplexed Muichiro.

He didn’t understand why, but then again, he had trouble understanding the purpose of most things.

At first, he didn’t pay much mind to it, maybe it was a sense of comfort? But he saw the way you were always on the edge of passing out from the heat, and how… unsettlingly empty your eyes were.

He watched as you trained, standing idly in the shade. He had been taking a water break and decided to watch you tiredly swing your training sword.

His chest tightened painfully, and he looked down at it with confusion. He immediately associated the uncomfortable feeling with looking at you in your exhausted state. Was he concerned? Surely no, you were a subordinate. But you were his subordinate, and he used that to justify why he was worried.

Muichiro kept a steady eye on you for the next week or so, the borderline painful feeling of concern popping up at least twice a day.

You looked exceptionally worse today, more so than normal. You had collapsed due to your body not being able to withstand the unbearable heat any longer. Of course, in a fit of worry, he rushed to your side, quickly checking for a concussion or any other injuries.

The boy frowned down at you as he held your head up, and that was the most expressive you’d seen him in a while.

“[Name], I told you this would happen, you need to dress appropriately for training..!”

He reached to roll your skin-tight sleeves up but was halted by a sharp “no” from you.

Needless to say, he did not listen, proclaiming your safety was far more important, so of course he saw. He found out, and you were worried if he’d be disgusted with you.

But when he looked in your eyes once more, his gaze was devoid of disgust or disappointment. His eyes stared at you with worry and guilt and confusion.

You could see it in his eyes, the silent ask of “why” of why you felt the need to do such things to yourself.

Without thinking, you provided a short explanation, you told him when you did it, why you did it, and how bad the thoughts were getting.

It only aided in the shattering of his heart.

How could he have been so oblivious…? Could he have provided help if he had noticed sooner?

No, there was no use in beating himself up for what he didn’t do, he needed to make sure that you stopped. He vowed to you that day, that he’d pay better attention, stay with you when you needed it, help you whenever you relapsed, and anything more you could possibly need.

As he spoke, his eyes began to tear up against his will. He held you closer, trying to appear strong for you because you needed the comfort.

He didn’t want to lose you, especially not to yourself, he needed you…. So with a shaky voice, he uttered a few words as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Not-… not tonight, please…”

A/N: I urge and encourage you to seek advise and help from a therapist if you have the comfort and means to do so, once again, I am so sorry for everything that has happened to you. I sincerely hope this can bring you even the slightest sliver of comfort, and I hope you recover from any and all thoughts quickly :( <3

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