#you care about being seen hoping things get better without having to inconvenience yourself at all

[sharpenote]

there's not always going to be an option to make things immediately better, but there will always be options to stop things from immediately getting much much worse, and you will always owe it to people less fortunate than you to keep things from getting worse, no exceptions

[dozing-marshmallow]

Hello!

Can you maybe do Chris McLean x reader, where the reader is comforting him after Sierra blew up his plane at the end of season 3 episode 23?

Funnily enough, I actually had a rough draft of this scenario already written in my notes 😭 Thank you giving the request that enhanced it! I hope you enjoy reading it💖

COMFORTING CHRIS MCLEAN (WORLD TOUR) ONE SHOT

Post signing off the show, Chris is secluded into your arms, sobbing into your chest over the loss of his plane and other luxuries.

“I lost everythiiing!” he wept, one of the few times he didn’t care about his image of being an apathetic host.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby...” you reassure, holding him and dragging your fingers down his spine. You think about how vulnerable he is,”Oh...I wish we were on a hammock, so I could rock you back n forth.”

“A hammock...?” He looks up with his tears whitening his despondent eyes,”W-We can get that...”

I’ve never seen him so... Well, I have, but in this state, not really.

“Aww. See, isn’t that thoughtful?” You kiss him on his forehead, his whimpering and sniffling still very audible,“Oh darling.” you then repair your sight to his face, landing other kisses on his tears, especially near his eyes,”Come rest your head back on me, you can wet this shirt as much as you need.”

He does so, holding on as much as possible. You worry about how safe you were inside the damaged plane, but at least it wasn’t blown up completely.

You did feel bad for him. Sure, the plane itself was in absolute shambles aside from his personal quarters, but there were a lot of memories made in there- the laughter, the spontaneous devouring danger, the fitting elimination ceremonies, chatting with Chef at the front of the plane- all things that aren’t cheap.

“We could try to rebuild it.” you suggest after taking another head turn around the demolished piece of transport, the indigo of the sky having more appearance than the ceiling, spread out and open like the parting leaves of trees that sat at the top.

“There’s no point...” he sulks,“The budget is already tight enough for this season... I don’t want to use it anymore anyway.”

“Really?” that differed from your expectations. Money was never a problem for Chris, so you don’t see why he wasn’t up for getting it renovated. Maybe he was that heartbroken that he doesn’t want to? Oh God... That could be it. Maybe reminding him of one of his possessions would light some motivation,“But your hot tub?-“

“I’ll buy another.” His voice becomes sterner, but the sorrow was still clear,”It’s nothing I can’t afford. In fact, the second this season is over, that’s the first thing I’ll do. Maybe get two.”

Again, not the reaction you thought, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore,“Aw see? You gave yourself something to look forward to.”

“...” he was still holding you tightly,”I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t here.”

You stroke his insanely fluffy hair, appreciating the lengths he went to keep his appearance vigorous, whispering,”My love, this is just what’s expected of me. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

By now, you felt your shirt sticking warmly onto you. You suspect he may have blew his nose with it without informing you, but you don’t care.

“I wish I can treat you like this as well...” he mumbled.

Woah woah woah. Chris wishing he could be the one giving emotional support?

“You’re not drunk, are you?”

“Why would I be drinking on a night like this? A night where...” his voice broke as it attempted to carry the recollection of his plane’s destruction, warning you that a second round of crying was very very near.

“There there, Chris.” you lightly smack his back,“Remember your plans. You’re still wealthy beyond compare. So wealthy you can buy three hot tubs made out of gold.”

“Right right... I’m not a poor guy... I’m not poor... I’m not poor...” he repeated it until he fell asleep. Must have put years on him.

You were wrong to think he would loosen his grip in his sleep. You sigh, but it wasn’t much inconvenience.

Chris is like a child at soul; as his lover, you were naturally his favourite teddy.

[genshin-impact-writings]

Personally proud of myself for thinking of this combo, but to fulfill the lack of Kaveh (which is criminal T-T) how about him with prompts 6 and 9 + Hanahaki (hurt/comfort)?

Pssst, remember to take care of yourself JJ :) <3

Hello Val! <3 You're rightfully proud about this combo, it's amazing, and I swear I screeched when I saw your request. This has gotten way longer than I initially expected (almost 3k words, help), so I really hope you like it. Take care too! <3 Pls don't let this flop.

Prompts: hurt/comfort + hanahaki disease + 6. “Stop lying to me.” + 9. “Leave me alone.”

Warnings: mentions of dying, blood and pain in general; some swearing 

As I’m fading away – Kaveh x gn!reader

Kaveh stares up at the ceiling as he wonders if this is how he will die. With every day that passes, it’s getting harder to breathe, and every time he coughs up another tiny flower, its petals covered in blood, he knows that he’s getting closer to the end. He has stopped working on his projects because he just can’t focus on anything else but the nasty sensation in his chest that reminds him every day that he has made a terrible mistake.

With a quiet sigh, he rolls over and stares at the window. It has been weeks since he last left the house, since he last felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, weak and sick and coughing up flowers. The people of Sumeru aren’t dumb. It would only take them a few moments to figure out what’s wrong with him, and Kaveh wants to spare himself the embarrassment. Hanahaki disease, they call it. The price people have to pay for falling in love with someone who doesn’t love them back. No one knows where it came from – the Akademiya doesn’t really waste time researching things like this. To most of them, love is an inconvenience, something that stops people from focusing on the things that really matter. Kaveh wouldn’t be surprised if that is why they came up with the surgery in the first place.

Because you see, Hanahaki disease doesn’t have to be terminal. There are, in fact, two cures: Either, the person you fell in love with returns your feelings, or you undergo a surgical procedure to remove the flower from your lungs. Easy, right? But in the process of eliminating the flower, they will also eliminate the love you felt. And some people firmly believe that after that, you can never experience these emotions ever again.

And Kaveh, being the hopeless romantic he is, is convinced that it’s better to love someone who doesn’t love him back instead of never loving at all. Even if it means that this love is going to be the end of him. (He knows it’s stupid. But forgetting that he has ever loved you seems even worse than death to him.)

* * * *

It feels like an eternity since you last saw your boss. Kaveh, you remind yourself because you know he hates it when you call him boss. “My name’s Kaveh,” he has told you at least a dozen times when you first started working together almost a year ago, “we’re working on this project together, there’s no need to act like I’m your superior.” (You never had the courage to tell him that you called him boss to remind you to keep a somewhat professional distance. After all, Kaveh is one of the most attractive people you have ever met – and, on top of that, he’s funny and kind and caring, too, and you’re definitely not in love with him.)

You shake your head, trying to think about something else because now is not the right time to think about Kaveh’s smile or the way his eyes light up when he’s excited about something. There’s a deadline you have to meet, and you can’t finish this project without your boss. 

So, you start looking for him. You check the café down the street, the bookstore, the shop where he sometimes buys his supplies, and even the library at the Akademiya. But no matter where you go, no matter how many people you ask, no one has seen Kaveh. And you slowly start to get angry. What the heck did you do to deserve being ditched like this? 

Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re standing in front of Alhaitham’s house. This is the last resort, and you’re sure he’ll not be happy to see that you know where he lives, but what else are you supposed to do? You reallyneed to talk to him. It’s simply unacceptable that he decided to let you deal with this project and the responsibilities that come with it completely on your own.

You raise your hand to knock on the door. When no one answers, you knock again, louder this time. On the other side, you hear something that sounds like a cough but still, the door doesn’t open, so you say, “You know I can hear you, right? Kaveh?”

No answer, just another quiet cough. 

“Kaveh, I swear to Lesser Lord Kusanali, if you don’t open the door right now-“

You interrupt yourself when the door cracks open, and you come face to face with Kaveh. He looks awful. There are deep, dark circles beneath his eyes, a sharp contrast to the pale and sallow color of his skin, and his hair and clothes are a mess. But what really gets to you is the expression in his usually so kind and compassionate eyes – he’s looking at you as if you were his personal nemesis. 

“What do you want?”

“Hello to you too, Kaveh,” you say. The shock about his appearance is not enough to let you forget your anger, especially not after these harsh words. “It’s good to see that you still know who I am after you left me alone with that project.”

Kaveh looks like he wants to reply something but instead, he presses his hand to his mouth when he falls into a fit of coughing. It’s so bad his entire body is shaking, and when the coughing finally stops after what seems like an eternity, his breathing is ragged and irregular. 

You reach out for him, your anger fading away into the distance when you realize that he hasn’t ditched you or your project. He is seriously ill, you can see that now. “Kaveh…”

“No,” he cuts you off, his hand still covering his mouth, and he quickly takes a step back to avoid your touch. “Leave me alone.”

Before you can say something, he has already slammed the door in your face.

* * * *

Kaveh’s heart sinks when he sees the delicate red flower on his palm. It’s the first time he has coughed up an entire flower, and he has read enough books about this disease to know that things will only continue to go downhill from now on. His chest aches, not only from the coughing but also from the devastating knowledge that he won’t survive this.

“Kaveh! Open the damn door or I promise I will kick it down!”

Your voice brings him back to reality, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. A part of him wishes he could just open the door and spend the little time he has left with you but then he’d have to explain the whole situation to you, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to tell you that he has been stupid enough to not only fall in love but also to catch a disease like Hanahaki. 

“I told you to leave me alone,” he rasps, although he already knows that you will do the exact opposite. “Please, (Y/N), just leave. I’m fine.”

“Stop lying to me! You’re not fine,” you insist, “please, let me take care of you. I’ll make you some soup and a cup of tea, and you’ll feel better in no time.”

Kaveh can’t help but smile at your words. Even when you’re mad (and rightfully so), you still care about him, and it’s enough to make his foolish heart skipping a beat. What if… No. This is stupid and nothing but wishful thinking. You just offered to take care of him, that’s not exactly a love confession. But there’s still a tiny spark of hope, and he decides to cling to it as long as he can. 

Slowly, he opens the door. “Okay,” he says, quietly. “Come in.”

He doesn’t wait for your response before he makes his way towards the kitchen to wash the blood off his hand but the sound of footsteps is proof that you’re following him. 

“You could have told me that you’re sick,” you say when the silence between the two of you gets uncomfortable. “Instead of disappearing, I mean.”

Kaveh doesn’t know what to reply, so he decides to remain silent. In the end, everything he’d say would probably be a lie, and you don’t deserve dishonesty. It’s not like you’re wrong with your assumption anyways – he is sick. You just don’t have any idea how serious it is. 

He takes a deep breath (or at least, he tries because the subtle scent of your perfume seems to fill the entire room, and it makes him want to pull you close and kiss you). “Sorry,” he finally says, though he knows that his words sound shallow and not at all genuine, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Sorry my ass,” comes the angry remark, just as he has expected, and so, he tries again, “I’m serious, (Y/N). I didn’t plan on leaving you alone with a project like this but… well. Obviously, some illness got in the way.” There’s no point in denying his poor state of health, after all. Not when it’s crystal clear that something is wrong with him. And this time, your gaze softens. You take a step towards him, carefully placing your hand on his arm. “Kaveh...” Your voice is so soft that it would have made him melt on the spot, hadn’t he been so distracted by the fact that he can feel the warmth of your hand through the fabric of his shirt. He’s so stupid – and so, so in love with you. 

In that moment, a sharp pain shoots through his entire body. His lungs feel like they’re on fire, and before he even knows what’s going on, he’s on the floor, desperately gasping for air. Every time he tries to breathe, the pain gets worse, and there’s definitely something blocking his airways.

“Kaveh!” The soft, gentle tone is replaced with utter panic as you drop to your knees right beside him. “Kaveh, please, what can I do? Do you need medicine? A glass of water?” You’re rambling, you know it, but you just can’t think straight when Kaveh is so obviously in pain. “Please, I-“

“I can’t breathe,” he rasps out. There’s a lump in his throat, and then, he’s coughing up blood and countless ragged flower petals again, and he’s sure it’s over for him. 

* * * *

He feels like he’s floating. The pain has disappeared, and all that’s left is an oddly peaceful feeling that slowly lulls him to sleep. There’s a gentle touch too, like a feather brushing against his cheek but warmer, much warmer. The darkness surrounding him is comforting, and for a brief moment, Kaveh allows himself to give in to that feeling. It’s like nothing matters anymore. 

But then something reaches his ear. Someone is saying his name, in such a hushed and soft tone that he would have smiled if he had the energy to. “Kaveh,” the voice whispers again, and he feels someone brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Please, I beg you, wake up.”

So, he’s not dead. Not yet. 

And you’re still here with him.

It’s incredibly hard to fight back the darkness around him and to open his eyes but for you, Kaveh tries. His whole body aches, like he’s been trampled down by a herd of sumpter beasts, and he has a terrible headache. But – and he can hardly believe it – other than that, he feels fine. The ever-present tickle in his throat that has been his only companion for the past weeks is gone. 

Kaveh takes a deep breath, then another one and another one – and he doesn’t need to cough once. It’s like he has never suffered from Hanahaki. Which doesn’t make any sense because as far as he knows, there isn’t another cure. It’s either the surgery or the other person loving you back – or death. He’s clearly not dead, and he also didn’t have the surgery, so that can only mean that… 

Oh. 

Oh.  

You love him. 

Although every bone and every muscle in his body screams at him to lie down again, Kaveh grits his teeth and tries to sit up. Almost immediately, there’s a hand on his back and another one on his arm. “Careful,” he hears you say, “no need to rush.”

Kaveh looks back at you with wide eyes, only now realizing how close you are. If he had still been sick, the proximity would have killed him but now, all he feels is his heart skipping a beat in anticipation. “(Y/N)…”

He hasn’t expected you to slap him across the chest. “You damn idiot! Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? I thought you were dying!”

“(Y/N), please,” Kaveh says quietly because he knows he doesn’t deserve you or your concern. He feels so bad for making you cry like this – trying to calm you down and convince you that you don’t need to worry about him is the least he can do now, “I’m fine. Calm do-“

The words get stuck in his throat when you throw yourself at him, pulling him into your arms without a warning. “You’re so fucking stupid,” you sob, voice muffled because you have buried your face in the crook of his neck, as you cling to him like he’s going to disappear if you don’t hug him tight enough, “why did you have to scare me like that?”

Kaveh doesn’t know what to do or what to say. For weeks, months even, he has longed for this, has wished to hold you at least once, and now that he has been granted that wish, he can’t move. He wants to wipe your tears away, pepper your face with kisses and just tell you how much he adores you and yet, for some stupid reason he can’t. 

“You love me,” he eventually says, and you pull away, staring at him in disbelief. “That’s what’s on your mind right now?  You almost died, right here in front of me, and all you think about is that I love you?”

Kaveh laughs, a shaky, insecure laughter than quickly can turn into tears if he’s not careful. “No, you don’t understand. You love me – that’s why I’m still alive.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that love saved you? Kaveh, that’s so fucking cheesy, even for you.”

“But that is exactly what happened,” he says and finally gathers the courage to reach out for your hand, interlacing your fingers, “I’m sure you’ve heard of Hanahaki disease before, haven’t you?” When you nod, he continues, “So you also know that it slowly kills those who fall in love with someone who doesn’t love them back. (Y/N), I have no idea why these things work the way they do – all I know is that it’s not a joke when I say that you saved my life.”

You stare down at your intertwined hands. “I’m sorry I made you think I don’t care about you in that way. I… I was trying to keep a professional distance because I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault,” Kaveh says, softly. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I shut you out. If I had the guts to tell you the truth, none of this would have happened.”

With a sigh, you raise your free hand to cup his cheek. It’s oddly comforting to touch him, perhaps because it reassures you that he’s alive and well, that he’s not going to die from a disease no one really understands. “We can play this game forever, so how about this: We were both pretty stupid.”

“Okay,” Kaveh agrees, quietly. His pupils are blown wide as he looks back at you, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, a genuine smile flashes over his face. He leans in, gently pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

It’s not at all what he had in mind when he has mused about the perfect scenario to confess his feelings – here, on the kitchen floor, his chest still aching from the Hanahaki – but you’re here with him, and now you close the gap between the two of you to press a soft kiss to his lips, and that alone is enough to make this moment perfect. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider liking, reblogging and/or leaving some feedback. I'd really appreciate the support! <3

Taglist: @genshinparty @ajaxstar @kaeyas-beloved @caesars-bubbles @the-gayest-sky-kid

[archivalofsins]

I slept and eaten something. I've also digested all my feelings on Cat after some talks with people. I think until people swallow some hard truths about being a man, the discussions around Kazui will always feel stilted to me. This includes me-

Admittedly due to my upbringing leaning more towards traditionally masculine I can't really relate to Mahiru's situation like that.

My upbringing wasn't really focused on honestly displaying my emotions but doing what was necessary in the moment despite them. The first thing I learned when young was regardless of my personal feelings on a matter I had and always should act in the best interest of those around me.

So, lines like

"My emotions are out of control, that’s inconvenient? I don’t care!"

Were always going to ring low to me in comparison to,

"Lie, until it gets better, follow the king of the masquerade. Since when have I ignored my feelings? It’s better to be a let down, than to be let down yourself."

Simply because the second is just truer to me. Because I understand what it feels like to think it's better to do something correctly in a dishonest way than put all your hopes into something and build up the courage to be candid just to still fail. When I was young and did that, regardless of the situation the repeated pattern would be,

"I'm going to ignore you said that and come back later. Hopefully when I do, you're in a better mood."

Or,

"Actually, I liked you better when you were lying for my benefit. I don't think I want to be around you now that you've said those things."

Q.08 Which do you prioritise between logic and feelings?

Kazui: I put my feelings first and it ended badly. So, I don’t want to act just based on feelings again.

Q.13 Who do you want to see right now?

Kazui: They won’t see me anymore.

A lot of friendships I've had have ended because I said something in favor of myself over the wants of that individual. Simply because when one keeps putting up an act, people love the performance more than the person.

The biggest kicker here is I'm afab, yet because of my upbringing, I have traits that would usually be viewed as toxically masculine. I should, on some level, be able to relate to Mahiru wanting to be able to openly express her feelings, have them viewed, and accepted regardless of how she comes off. However, I can't for the life of me wrap my mind around why someone would ever behave in that way outside of just going well that's how she is. Something that I can quite easily accept as a reasonable answer without needing further explanation because if being that way makes her happy and she's not hurting anyone, it doesn't need to make sense to me.

At the same time, I recognize not everyone has the luxury of behaving the way she does. Just going my feelings are inconvenient I don't care this is how I am whenever they feel like it. Some people are taught to bottle that shit up and start acting correctly. Some people are told that they can't control the actions of others, but they can control how they react, and if they can't control that, then the fool is them.

Some people are shown time after time that it doesn't matter what others do, it's their responsibility as the bigger person to be reasonable. That's what being an adult is, so you better learn it early.

Q.06 What would you say is the difference between adults and children?

Kazui: Responsibility. Adults can’t just do whatever they want.

I literally went to my Grandad's wake last month and when I went to the restroom with my grandma I honestly said yeah I just came in here to cry really, I don't gotta use it. She bluntly told me to do that at home like she did not in public near these people. My ass just laughed it off and went yeah, you're right and switched gears harder than someone who just passed their destination.

You're right I lost myself for a minute there. I mean even contemplating crying in a bathroom at a wake for my grandad, who just died of cancer on Father's Day, that I hadn't seen in years until today silly me displays such as that are better left for the privacy of one's own home. Whelp, back to being the emotional rock of this family. How are you handling things? How have you been?

This may sound abnormal to some, but it isn't in my family. Hell, my grandad was pretty much the same. I remember asking him on one I think it was Christmas at his house but know I was around six or seven something along the lines of hey you know my mother (his daughter) like whoops me and my older sister sometimes for no reason for hours on end what's up with that? The dude flat out told me stop doing shit to get beat or don't get caught doing stuff that would illicit that reaction.

He pulled the equivalent of skill issue and kid me has been lying ever since. Constantly everywhere in friendships, professional environments, with my family. Few people recognize that for some people lying can become so commonplace whether it be out of necessity or habit that being honest about anything turns into a struggle.

I even just lie to myself sometimes for fun just to see if I catch myself doing it- Which one would rightfully think you must know it's a lie and oh I do. Yet, I also know if I keep behaving in a certain way it will become the truth to someone. This lie could be someone else's reality if I commit hard enough. People don't really want to see the truth anyway, some will deny it regardless of how clearly it's stated. Because everyone has a lie, they would rather accept more than the truth of the matter.

No one is above wanting to see whatever they enjoy over and over again. Or to put it a different way,

"Make a favorite shape and love it."

I sincerely know if I'm jovial enough and don't cause trouble no one will ever ask what's going on. Because most people despite what they say don't really care about me as a person or my thoughts on matters concerning my life they just want to hear themselves talk about what I should be doing, about how my life is/was, if my experiences were good or bad from their perspective.

Hell, Yuno is an example of this-

Umblical

"Just the two of us. I finally found it. The lies are endless."

Trial 1 Voice Drama

"That’s right- You know those sorts of people who just want to convince themselves; so, they stick their nose into the affairs of others knowing it’s not their place? I despise those sorts of people the most. They’re only getting involved to make themselves feel better, right? In the end they never actually accomplish anything."

“Yuno…”

“No matter how many chilling memories I had to endure, those people never gave me any warmth. He-he I ended up going off topic there! Um, what did I wanna say again?”

-273.15°C Second Voice Drama

"Hurry up and extract the song or whatever. And then! Why don't you randomly decide what is and isn't true, to come to whatever arbitrary decision you'll make next!"

Later

"Kotoko is someone I would never be friends with. She's the type to pick her conclusion from the start without actually talking to anyone."

Q.12 What do you want from the guard?

Yuno: I’d like it if you stopped trying to force some kind of reason on everything.

Tear Drop

“I’m the one who chose, let you and you and you all in. Happy or sad? Why decide? Where’d you get your half-baked sense of justice? So, nauseating…so creepy…will you please disappear “Phew. Anyway!”.”

"If you want “me”, come marco, I’ll polo."

"Lie, until it gets better, follow the king of the masquerade."

We're really following the leader on this one.

At this point, I severely doubt most know what it's like for a person to have to constantly keep themselves in check at all times. Never having the satisfaction of being able to say what's true or having others see them for who they really are instead of who that other person would like to see. The ideal that they've created on top of them or the lie the other has presented.

This person recognizing the truth is an inconvenience, they know good and well what happens when they open up, and that they'll only have themselves to blame if things go poorly.

"Am I a bad girl? Please don’t answer. What do you want to do? Please tell me." - "Let’s just do it, please smile?"

"Please tell me what I should do, feelings shrouded in lies will float away and disappear." - "The beating of this heart... see... it’s no longer about good and bad... it isn’t I realize the futility, but I still can’t help but dream."

"The fading warmth makes me anxious again." - "This feeling, it’s yearning to be satisfied."

Gender, sexuality, romantic orientation none of that matters anyone can get caught up in lies piling on and on. To the point of feeling crushed.

Q.18 Do you regret your “murder”?

Kazui: I regret it. I wish I could’ve just kept lying.

Q.10 If you could turn back time, would you commit the same “murder”?

Yuno: It’d be nice if I made it so I didn’t have to.

"Don’t weigh me, measure me against your morality. Just shut it, will you? You know it all." - "So, it’s wrong? Oh, shove that!"

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: aftermath | ljn

summary | you're sick—it's unavoidable, you can't be healthy all the time. unfortunately, the night before you came down with the fever, you had a massive fight with your boyfriend, who is the only person available to take care of you.

genre | a bit of angst and fluff

wc | 1.3k

a/n: i don't think i've ever had a worse parasocial relationship than my one with jeno <3 peace and love hope u enjoy

jaemin's ver

SOMETIMES, you seriously think the world is out to get you.

As you lay in bed, curled up into a ball and coughing out a lung every couple of minutes, you wonder if you did something to deserve the past 24 hours of your life. You’d felt just fine yesterday, running every errand under the sun and having a genuinely productive day up until dinner.

Jeno was a good boyfriend, and your relationship was a good one—he never missed an anniversary, you didn’t fight often at all, and you had a good understanding of boundaries between one another. Of course, that didn’t mean you’d never experience a bump in the road, you just wish it hadn’t been so inconveniently timed.

You don’t even remember what you were arguing about at this point, all you know is that it was mostly your fault, and it wasn’t too kind of an argument. It ended with Jeno storming out of your apartment and disappearing into the city, leaving you to cry your eyes out for the rest of the night. Then, you woke up this morning with a high fever and weak lungs, and—with no one else to turn to—you sent Jeno a pathetic text about your current state of being.

Despite all your misgivings, the mean words you threw and the general lack of reasoning behind your actions the night before, Jeno showed up about 15 minutes after your initial text with a bag of various medicines and the biggest bottled water you’d ever seen in your life.

Right now, he was sitting in bed next to you, using your TV to play some random game with Jaemin and Renjun. You hadn’t outright talked to him for most of the day, but you’d laid right next to him for hours, and he got you every single thing you needed.

When it was time to eat, he made you soup and insisted that you ate it. He made sure you were drinking water. He kept tissues next to you at all times, and wet towels for you to place on your forehead. He took your temperature every few hours. He cleaned up your kitchen and bent at your will whenever you needed him to.

Even though you were so, so terrible to him the day before.

Quietly, you pushed yourself up from your curled position, sitting on the edge of the bed for a sec.

“Need something?” Jeno asked, a hint of concern seeping through the flat tone he’d been trying to keep up all day. You just shook your head, slowly standing up and trying not to pass out from the sudden wave of dizziness that hit you.

“Restroom,” you croaked back, cringing at the pain in the back of your throat. Your steps were slow and uncoordinated, to the point where Jeno kept his eyes on you for the entire time you approached the doorway. Faintly, you could hear Renjun yelling at him to play the game, and Jaemin giggling about it at the same time.

Once you made it out into the hall, you just about burst into tears. This was seriously the worst day you’d ever lived in your life—your head hurt, hell, your whole body hurt, you couldn’t go five minutes without coughing up a storm, you felt nauseous and dizzy and overwhelmed by the sickness your body was fighting. On top of that, your boyfriend was practically ignoring you, even if he was tending to your every need.

You took your final steps into the bathroom, flicking on the light and quietly closing the door behind you. Now feeling too weak to keep standing, you slid down the wall adjacent to the sink, shoving your face into your hands. You allowed the tears to flow, crying over how you felt, how awful the last day had been, and how guilty you felt towards your beloved boyfriend. All you wanted was a hug and reassurance that you’d be better soon, but all you got was cold stares and detached care, all of which was your fault.

If you had the energy, the voice to apologize, you would’ve ages ago, but with the knives in your throat, you could barely utter more than one word at once.

A sob escaped your throat, the pain ricocheting down your neck, and it only made you cry harder. You wanted to disappear yourself and never come back out if it meant you could just stop feeling like this.

Of course, Jeno knew you better than anyone else. He could always tell when something was wrong, and he always knew when to leave you alone or when to offer his help. Three knocks resounded on the bathroom door, rhythmic and slow, informing you of Jeno’s presence.

“Can I come in?” he asked, finally losing the monotony he’d carried throughout the day. Unsure of what you wanted at that moment, you just knocked on the door back, mimicking him. He took that as a yes, opening the door just a crack and slipping through it.

Wallowing in your self-pity, you brought your knees up to your chest and kept your eyes trained on the floor. You’d rather die than look at him right now.

Jeno sat down on the floor across from you with his back pressed up against the cabinets under your sink. For a moment, both of you sat there in silence, waiting for one or the other to fill the quiet void.

“Why are you crying?”

If you’d been in better spirits, the easy response would’ve been “why do you think?” but the thought of angering him more made you feel even sicker than before.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to croak out, trying to suppress the oncoming wave of tears you felt bunching at your eyes. If you cried any harder, you would’ve coughed a bit more than your lungs out.

Jeno let out a quiet scoff, making your stomach drop to the floor. This was the part where he broke up with you, or something, telling you to get a friend to come to take care of you. He’d take all of his stuff out of your apartment, from his extra gaming laptop to all of his workout stuff, and leave without a trace, leaving you on the bathroom floor.

“Come here,” he muttered, gently grabbing your wrist and tugging at your arm, waiting for you to comply. You didn't budge, but he just kept tugging, quietly nagging for you to listen. Slowly, you gave in to his request, pushing yourself across the floor and moving to sit next to him. “Not what I meant.”

With a quick pull, Jeno had you sitting up against him, arms draped around your waist and his head on top of yours. “I’m not mad right now. You don’t need more stress.”

There were a few more beats of silence, and, when Jeno confirmed to himself that you weren’t going to talk, he continued. “We were mean to each other last night. You weren’t the only offender—I started the whole thing. If anyone should apologize, it’s me. Especially for how I’ve treated you since this morning. I’m sorry.”

“You took care of me, though.”

“It doesn’t matter what I did, I wasn’t nice about it. Okay? Now everything is settled, and it’s all back to normal, and you can stop feeling worse than you need to.” Jeno leaned down and placed a kiss on your neck, squeezing your waist in the process. “We can watch a movie or something. And, when you feel better, we can talk about things if you want. But for now, rest up, and let me take care of you more."

thank you for reading! <3

[beneathashadytree]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY - LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

Warnings : this is set before the first time-skip, jealousy, insecurity, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff, comfort

Word count : 2.0K words

Synopsis : Levi never thought there’d come a day when he’d feel that way seeing his lover and his Commander interact.

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“So you got yourself the special treatment as a damn invalid now.”

Levi’s voice was as flat as could be at Erwin’s bedside, watching as the older blonde gave him a half-smile that didn’t exactly let him in on what the commander felt.

“Not at all,” the man coolly replied, “Though you were right. ‘Taking a shit’ is admittedly more difficult now.”

Quite against his will and better judgment, Levi’s lips curled into a barely-perceptible bitter smile.

Staring at the door that had been left ajar after them, Erwin’s thick brows furrowed, “They’ve been taking care of me for a while now since it happened. I wish they’d rest,” feeling a rather intense pair of eyes settled on the back of his head, he lightly chuckled, “Relax, Levi. I know better than to push my luck. Wouldn’t want to lose my other arm, courtesy to you.”

The shorter man cleared his throat, struggling to remain seemingly oblivious in spite of the slight flush of his ears, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know you’re probably being ridiculous again,” with a heave, he got up from the chair, “Which is my cue to leave, if you’re well enough for that.”

As he began to close the door behind him, he could hear his superior faintly remark, “Still ever the contrarian.”

***

Sat all alone with nothing to keep him company in his office aside from his annoyingly persistent thoughts, he couldn’t push away the nagging feeling that Erwin hadn’t been entirely off the mark to point out the unease he’d been feeling for the past couple of days.

Frankly, something felt off about him every time he stepped in to visit the commander’s room and found his lover already there, tending to his every whim (the pulled back curtains, for instance, or the empty jug of water inconveniently placed to his right) and replacing the blood-stained bandages on his shoulder. Something about watching as they fretted over the commander’s winces and occasional groans of pain just rubbed him the wrong way.

He would’ve been perfectly okay with being tasked with taking care of him instead of them. It’s not like they had to go out of their way to do all these things for Erwin; rather, a deep sense of relief after having found out he’d survived had left them unable to do anything else. It was just in their nature to be so openly compassionate and eager to help, Levi fondly thought, more than well aware of how blindingly bright he’d often seen them.

Still, the churning of his stomach every time he spotted them scowling in worry as they helped Erwin change his shirt without undoing his bandages wasn’t something he could ignore for much longer. He didn’t know what to do about that.

With a heavy sigh so uncharacteristic of him, he set down the papers he’d been previously working on, mind far too preoccupied with the current train of thought to get much of the task done. Instead, he set his hands under his chin and stared out at the wall.

Rationally thinking, he knew that were it him in Erwin’s place, his lover would’ve put their own life on the line and worked their fingers to the bone in hopes of nursing him back to health; god, he knew more than anyone else just how devoted and utterly faithful they were to him. And really, there wasn’t anything odd about them caring for the blonde in that manner—after all, he was the Commander of the Survey Corps, and should he ever collapse the entire regiment would end up in shambles. He was an indispensable asset to Paradis Island, and Levi knew it.

He tousled his ebony hair, frustration evident on his face as he tried to calm his bubbling emotions that he couldn’t name. Erwin was… he didn’t exactly know what to label him as, but he could confidently call him the closest he’d ever had to a friend in the Corps. It wasn’t like him to ever distrust the man—especially not when he’d been so perceptive so as to notice the turbulent feelings he’d been having concerning his lover’s aid for him. Erwin’s reassurances weren’t in vain, even if he was too embarrassed to tell him so.

But then once again, a few particularly nasty thoughts would intrude, breaking his attempts to have some peace of mind. Levi had often tried to push those nagging feelings away, but at times like these when his solitude was his only company, they came back in full force.

Perhaps there hadn’t been any malicious intent from either party, but what bothered him the most was how, even in the eyes of a man as simple and as heedless as he was, Erwin Smith was nothing short of dazzling; a bit too bright for too many reasons. He wasn’t blind to his charms, nor was he even immune to them sometimes.

Maybe that was owed to just how naturally handsome he was, paired with his confident and even sometimes prideful smile, or maybe it was because of how devilishly brilliant he was, his intelligence and sheer dedication to humanity always pulling people towards him like a magnet. Though he was intimidating at times, and often acted in ways which caused him to question his sanity, Levi knew no man more captivating than the Commander himself.

And though he’d never had reason to feel insecure or to question his own self, now more than ever he felt like he couldn’t compare to him. In all honesty, he could only see himself as rather plain looking—he wouldn’t go as far as too condescendingly call himself unattractive, but his looks paled in comparison to Erwin’s—bearing in mind that Erwin had the height and massive figure that he didn’t possess. Admittedly though, Levi felt a twinge of pride and self-satisfaction at the thought that despite his (comparative) shortcomings, his lithe short body and surprisingly muscular form meant that he’d always been the strongest in the way humanity needed him to be.

But would a beloved partner think the same? Would they see him as a winner in that aspect? Or was he completely inferior to his Commander in all the former areas? A part of him desperately wanted the immediate validation, while another part squashed the idea, not wanting to give into a moment of vulnerability.

He shook his head as though trying to shove the thoughts away, pushing himself up and towards the door, hoping to grab a drink from the kitchen reserves—only to have it swung open by none other than his lover.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” they breathed out, a small smile forming at their face merely at the sight of him, and Levi could’ve sworned he never deserved them looking at him like that, “Thought you might be here,” shutting the door behind them and leaning against it, they eyed him carefully, “You’ve had this pensive look for a while, so you probably wanted time for yourself. Hope I’m not interrupting that.”

Grey eyes shut for a second as he grunted, “No, you’re fine. I was on my way out anyways.”

Humming in understanding, they leaned in for a chaste kiss against his lips, and for a second he melted into the brief intimacy as they murmured, “I’ve missed you.”

He arched his brows as a hand reached out to settle against their waist, “You just saw me an hour ago.”

“I meant that we haven’t properly spent time together in a while,” they frowned, a mildly guilty look on their face, “I’m sorry. Things have been hectic the past couple of days.”

“Yes, you’ve taken over from four eyes to watch over Erwin.”

Levi almost visibly winced at the words that came out of his mouth, and turned his face to the side in vain hopes of hiding his mortification. He hadn’t meant to say that, and certainly hadn’t meant to sound so bitter as he did. If his darling noticed, they didn’t comment on his embarrassment, only stopping in place for a few moments before they softly spoke, deft hands taking his.

“Has that upset you?”

He paused, “I’m… I’m not too sure,” he admitted, “I don’t think I’m upset, no. It just feels damn weird, and not in a good way.”

“Ah,” they nodded, thumbs delicately swiping against the back of his palms, and he couldn’t avoid their gentle gaze any longer, “Thank you for communicating that with me. Is there something in particular about me nursing him that you don’t like? Or is it just the general idea itself?”

Still feeling quite embarrassed (being a 33 year old man who was acutely aware of his feelings and yet somehow so terribly incapable of putting them into words), he shrugged, “I don’t know. It just bothers me to see you taking care of him like that. So attentively,” his hands left theirs, and with a sigh he backed away, taking a seat on the mishapen mattress and frame that barely served as a bed, “It’s your job, so there’s nothing to do about it. Don’t stress it.”

With a gentle voice, they replied as they sat beside him, “I think I should be the one reassuring you about that.”

He gave them a half-smile, though there was no mirth behind it. With a sympathetic look on their face, they looked far too understanding for him to fear that he put them off, but he still remained wary.

“Levi, I’ve only ever had eyes for you, you know. I haven’t looked at anyone else and I don’t intend to.”

He scowled, rushing to defensively interject, “I never said that you’d do that—“

“But you’re worried I might end up falling for him, don’t you?” their hand reached out to squeeze his affectionately, “You’re far too good at hiding your emotions, but you forget how long we’ve been with each other. And after all this time, I can say without a shred of doubt that no man is capable of sweeping me off my feet—you’ve already done that many, many times.”

“Now you’re just resorting to empty flattery,” Levi scoffed, though his words held no malice as a mild blush made its way to his cheeks, “We both know just how damn magnetic that blonde is.”

“I’m not too sure he’d appreciate his subordinate referring to him as ‘that blonde’,” they joked, in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had formed in the room, “That being said, there is no chance in hell that Erwin of all people would ever be able to woo me,” they chortled, “Have you seen the way he wears his shirts? He puts his arms in first. Definitely a psychopath.”

“Don’t think your superior would like you calling him a psychopath either,” Levi snorted, though their light-hearted words seemed to have lessened the burden of his thoughts a little.

“Touché,” they hummed, before flashing him another sweet smile, “I know you’re not convinced, but as much as the Commander’s got his redeeming qualities, he doesn’t hold a candle to you in my eyes. You’re the one I’ll always choose, over and over, and if it’ll take time to show you that, then I’ll gladly devote the rest of my life to you.”

And though he didn’t explicitly say it, his awestruck expression for a couple of seconds showed just how wonderful these words were to him, and how bashful they made him. He couldn’t meet their eyes for a whole minute, before he composed himself and weakly said, “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t do that.”

“If it’s for you, then I most certainly will,” they gave him a defiant look that spoke in volumes of absolute adoration as they hooked their arms around his neck, pulling him ever-so-close, “There’s never a reason for you to worry, but I’ll always be there to ease your worries as long as I’m beside you.”

“Then don’t leave my side,” Levi firmly said, his eyes steely but anything but cold, brimming with the love he’d never be able to fully express, wondering just what heavenly deed had he done in a previous life to have been rewarded with someone so utterly incredible he couldn’t believe was real, even as he pulled them into a much-needed embrace, “Do good on your word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of going back on it.”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @thispersoniscrazy @cloroxisadelectabletreat

[persephones-wren]

hii love, love your fics so I just had to request again! Could request a Kaz andd reader where he says something mean to her without meaning it but shes really sad an stattes crying to jesper and he gets angry and tells Kaz to apologise? Angst with a happy ending,please!! Thanks a ton darling💗💗

Forgiveness (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

thank you for requesting again! school has been kicking my ass, so sorry for how long writing this took, but I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: mentions of catcalling, (small) injury, idk?

Genre: angst to fluff

Word Count: 1910

To say you’ve had a shitty day would’ve been an understatement.

Heading to the White Rose to see Nina, you’d been catcalled multiple times. Maybe you were being dramatic, but the comments felt more scathing than usual, and it had gotten under your skin quicker than you thought it would. You didn’t want to use Kaz’s reputation to scare them off, but it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d still be viewed as a possession, just one that didn’t belong to them.

You had snapped at the last stranger who’d given their perverse ideals of you, and that altercation had left you a lovely slash on your arm from defending yourself. You had temporarily wrapped it up on a scarf, but you knew you would probably have to wrap it with gauze on it when you returned.

When you had asked the clerk where Nina was, he said that he’d seen her leave, but she said nothing to him. Which meant the entire journey here was a waste, and that you’d have to head home without her guaranteed cooperation with the plan your boyfriend was creating.

“Kaz, she’s not there. Clerk said she went out, but he didn’t get where. It was a waste of a trip,” you sigh, throwing down your cloak on a random chair.

Kaz sighs, lowering his head as he writes out another part of the plan. “Really, Y/N? You couldn’t go out and look for her? She told us a couple days ago that she was going to start taking trips to the market at this time. You could’ve found her there.”

“I’m sorry?” you scoff quietly, but try to adjust your tone at the icy stare he gives you. You could’ve said that nicer, sure. “I didn’t think to look for her there because I didn’t know that, Kaz. Are you sure she told us that?”

“Yes, she did. Were you not paying attention?”

“I don’t think I was there,” you refute. “I would’ve remembered if she told me.”

“I don’t have time to talk to people who can’t do their jobs,” he mutters. “Just get out and waste time for now. Let me finish what I’m working on and we’ll find her together later.”

“The hell you mean I can’t do my job?” you protest. “I did what you asked. I went to go look for her, and she wasn’t there. I thought your instructions were not to stray from my path, because you wanted me home quickly and safely.”

“If you had any shred of common sense, then you’d know that I’d only say that because I’m supposed to care about you. I’d take information over your safety.”

You still. What?

He’s supposed to care about you? Does that imply he doesn’t? He would take information over your safety.

Does he want to break up?

Stop being dramatic. Kaz doesn’t play implication games with something like that. He’d tell you outright.

But he wouldn’t care for you if he got what he wanted.

“I-um, oh,” you take a shuddery breath. Your chest feels tight and your eyes are going to water. Kaz hates dealing with over-emotional people. He needs people who can keep their cool, people who can think their way out of things. You need to get out of here before he looks up at you. You’re useless, you’re an idiot, no wonder he said you couldn’t do your job properly.

Too late. He looks up at you, frowning at your silence, but you quickly turn away, still trying to hide your face.

You laugh, and even you can tell that it’s not genuine, just an attempt at trying to hide your wavering voice. “I’m fine, Kaz. Uh- yeah, yeah! We’ll go out later and-” your throat catches as you swallow harshly. “We’ll go out and look for Nina later. See you then.” You quickly brush your tears out of the way, opening the door and stepping out.

Your steps echo down the hall, and you try and find your way to your room through the tears that now stream down your face.

I’d take information over your safety.

You still don’t know if he means it. He’s angry, but- Kaz was usually extremely candid when he was upset.

He might’ve meant every word.

You don’t notice Jes in front of you, and as you pass him, he catches your arm.

You wince, his fingers land right on the slash, and he hastily lets go, looking at you with concern. Everyone was usually about as emotional as a rock in the Barrel. What made you cry like that?

“Y/N, you okay? What happened? Why did you flinch from me? Did I do something wrong?”

His face resembles a kicked puppy, and your heart constricts with slight guilt.

“No, no- it’s not your fault, Jes- your fingers landed right on a slash I got, that’s all.”

He looks at his hands, covered in slight blood. You tug at your soaked-through scarf and look at it, and it looks even worse than when you first got it. Your grimace. So much for getting him to worry less about you. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Your words are frantic and stuttered, but you hope he gets the point.

“How did that happen? I thought with Kaz’s reputation, you would be untouchable. Why isn’t he taking care of you?”

You smile sadly. The mention of Kaz tightens your chest again.  “Guy scrapped with me for a little while after catcalling me. I didn’t want to use Kaz to defend myself- me, with him? He’d be even more of a target. And Kaz is a bit upset with me right now. He doesn’t know what happened.”

“Why the hell would he be upset?”

“I didn’t get the information he wanted,” your voice is small and weak. “And he said he’d rather have the information more than my safety.”

“Which is why you’re crying.” Jes’s face has a look of understanding.

“Yes,” you affirm quietly. “Today’s just been a bad day. I’ll be alright, though, really. I know Kaz doesn’t like dealing with weak people, so I thought I wouldn’t bother-”

“You’re not weak.” His voice gains a complete new edge, and his face is determined. You suddenly get a bad feeling. What’s Jes going to suggest you do? “We’re going to go confront him. Right now.”

“Jes, I look like I’ve been crying. I’d at least like to compose myself a bit.”

“No.” He makes sure he’s grabbing your other arm, before leading you back to Kaz’s office. “He needs to know how much he’s fucked up. He’s smart, but really,” Jesper sighs, “He’s an idiot. And you deserve better than that.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you’re still nervous as he leads you down the hall, and you’re definitely panicking when he opens the door without knocking.

Kaz looks up, and a brief look of surprise is in his eyes as he looks at Jesper. Why didn’t Jesper knock? And why would Jes need him, especially at midday? Wouldn’t he be out gambling?

Kaz prepares himself to hear something stupid. He doesn’t notice you standing behind him, and his attention drifts back down to his plan.

“What do you need?”

“Apologize.”

“For?”

“For being a bloody idiot and hurting your girlfriend.”

Hurting you? He looks back up to him, and this time, you’re standing next to Jesper.

“I didn’t-” Kaz starts, but your appearance makes him go silent.

Your expression is blank, but tear streaks clearly stain your face, and you clearly look like you don’t want to be confronting him. Jesper had put you up to this.

Were you too afraid of him to do it yourself?

What did he do for you to look like that?

“You didn’t do anything?” Jesper’s voice is incredulous. “She went to the White Rose to try and find Nina, and then you come home and treat her like she’s useless because she doesn’t get what you want. She’s your girlfriend, not a goon. Have some respect for her, yeah? She followed exactly what you said, to try and get home quickly and safely, and even then, she still gets hurt. Did you even notice the bleeding gash?”

“Jes,” you whisper, “it’s fine, really-”

He doesn’t listen, and grabs at your wrist to lift your arm, pulling down the scarf and revealing the bloody cut. Kaz blinks, concern and guilt briefly flashing on his face before he smooths back his expression.

How didn’t he notice? How did that happen?

“Y’know how she got that? Men were harassing her, and she fought one of them because she didn’t want to use your name as her shield. She was trying to prevent painting an even bigger target on your back. And then you go as far,” Jes laughs angrily, “as to say that she’s not worth more than information for your fucking plan? And through all of that, she leaves you alone because she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience to you. Your girlfriend thinks her emotions are burdening you. Get your fucking head out of your ass. Either you apologize to her, or she’s breaking up with you.”

You and Kaz are both left standing still, both watching as Jesper stalks back toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.

The sound echoes through the silent room.

You don’t know what to say. Part of you feels vindicated, Jesper did the hard part for you, but part of you feels guilty- Jesper also made it a lot bigger than it could’ve been.

You let the guilt win out.

“I’m sorry, Jes’s wording was a bit harsh, I’ll take my leave, it’s really not that big-”

“Stay,” Kaz interrupts. “Please.”

You sit down on the chair next to his, and he turns to you, pulling out gauze and alcohol wipes.

“I can do it myself,” you say hurriedly. “I know-”

“You’re not a burden to me.” He avoids your gaze, he doesn’t want to see your reaction, in case he really would lose you after this. “Let me help you.”

“Okay.”

You hiss through your teeth as he cleans the gash, a small “sorry” escaping him as he continues. There’s still a silence hanging between both of you. He wraps it carefully, looking up at you when he’s done.

“Not too tight?”

“No,” you answer quietly. “Thank you, Kaz.”

There’s another silence between you.

“I care about you,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t trade your safety for anything.”

You know it’s his way of saying sorry.

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“It’s not,” he argues. “If you ever need to defend yourself, use my name if it’ll get them to stop. I don’t care if it paints whatever sized target on my back.” You open your mouth to interject, but he continues. “I’m already a wanted criminal in Ketterdam. However much you increase the target by doesn’t matter, so long as you come home alright.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I will.”

“I love you, darling.”

Your eyes widen at his words. He doesn’t say it often, he knows that you already know that.

Jesper must’ve really shaken him.

“I love you too,” you reply softly. “Thank you.”

It’s his turn to look surprised. “For?”

“For caring,” you respond. “For being you. For loving me.”

A faint smile etches on his lips. “I always will.”

[scuttling]

Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it’s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

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[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[free-pool-trash]

of pick up lines and garden flowers - peter maximoff

requests: Hello! I'm a big fan of basically all your Peter Maximoff x Reader stories and was wondering if you could write one where both of them got sucked into Westview and reader's "role" is a florist and Peter's in love with her or something? Bonus points if they were already together before getting trapped in the town and every time they meet, reader gets a flashback of when they were together? That would be pretty awesome to read :D

hey bestie ✨ i love this idea it’s super cute <3 thank you for sending it in i hope you enjoy <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated

word count: 1.1K (it’s short but i quite like it)

warnings: peter being dorky, really fluffy

masterlist

The sound of the bell above your door chiming alerted you that you had a customer. You smiled softly, not turning around, continuing to fix the arrangement of flowers in front of you.

“Back again?” You teased, already knowing who the visitor was without having to turn around. He came in at the same time every single day.

Once you finished adjusting the lilies on the shelf, you spun around to face the silver haired man who leaned against your cash counter casually, “Thought you needed your daily dose of vitamin P.”

“Dear god. That’s the worst one yet, truly, you’ve outdone yourself.” You cackled, busying yourself with filling out orders to avoid catching his trademark cheesy grin.

It had become a routine. He’d stroll into your shop and hit you with his best terrible pick up line and you’d send him away with a single flower.

“You smile wider the worse they are.” He informed, his dimples on full display as his grin had turned into a wide, loving smile.

If you hadn’t known better you would’ve sworn that you’ve seen that adoring smile of his before. Yeah, you’d seen it almost everyday this week but even from the very first day he’d stumbled into your shop and accidentally knocked over a vase of freshly organised hydrangeas he was familiar- he felt familiar.

Riding that train of thought you let out a soft “Oh”, as you remembered the flower you’d chosen to send him away with today. It wasn’t anything too special to the naked eye but whenever you looked at it you were hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia, the feeling was similar to the one you got when you’d lock eyes with the man who stood before you now, and so you figured why not put two good things together?

Quickly you pulled the flower out of the vase behind the cash counter where you were keeping it and presented it to Peter with a bright smile, “Tah-dah!”

Peter stared at the flower for a second, before his eyes moved up to your face. Truthfully, Peter didn’t really care about flowers, but he did however care about you and for whatever reason he couldn’t seem to keep himself from coming back to you time and time again.

He took the flower from you gently, making sure his fingers lingered against yours while you passed him the stem, he admired the steady blush that began rising on your cheeks at the contact.

“Why’d you pick a daisy?” He asked, twirling the green stem between his fingers and for a brief second, as you watched him grinning and messing with the taller than average garden flower, it was as if the fog had cleared completely.

The night was hot, you were laying in the garden simply listening to the crickets and allowing the cool breeze to sweep over you as you twirled a small daisy that you’d plucked from the grass between your fingers.

“Psst. Y/n!” Peter’s whisper startled you from your relaxation and you turned your head to look at him.

“Mhm?” Peter plopped himself down beside you, dropping his head onto your lap and letting out a content sigh as he did.

You sat up on the grass, careful not to move his head too much, you began to play with it softly as he began to speak, “Are you a magician?” He asked, looking up at your face seriously as if the question he just posed was the most important question he’d ever ask you.

Before you could even really process his question, a huge grin made its way across his lips, “Because when I’m with you everybody else disappears.”

“We’re the only people here, my love.” You reminded him through a giggle, “But counter question- Are you a parking ticket?” Peter scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you, completely unimpressed by your line’s set up.

“Why? Cuz I’ve got “fine” written all over me? Lame.” He complained rolling his eyes.

Lightly you flicked his nose, “No, I was gonna say it’s because you’re a huge inconvenience.” His gasp caused you to bark out a laugh, pleased with his outraged response.

Within a second Peter tackled you back into the grass, his fingers running up and down your sides, relentlessly. Loving the way your laughter came out in howls, the way they always did when he tickled you. Your eyes watered as he refused to let up until you were begging through squeals of laughter for him to stop. When he finally ceased his attack on your ribs, he let out a chuckle of his own and rolled off of your body, lying on the grass beside you instead.

It took you a second to catch your breath again, eventually when you managed to even out your breathing you turned your head to look at Peter, who was already looking at you. His gaze almost made you lose your breath again. His brown eyes twinkled and his skin was illuminated weakly by the moon that shone full above you, perfectly highlighting the dips in his dimpled cheeks as he smiled softly yet widely. You knew what that look was, he was in love, and conveniently; so were you.

“Truce?” You whispered, holding out the little daisy you had plucked from the grass earlier and offering it to Peter, whose smile never dimmed as he nodded in agreement.

You shimmied closer, pressed a small kiss to his nose before tucking the flower behind his ear. The image of him so in love with a daisy poking out from behind his ear was the purest, sweetest thing you’d ever seen and it caused your smile to nearly split your cheeks.

“You look perfect right now.” You voiced your thoughts quietly as to not disturb the moment.

Wordlessly, he placed his hands on your hips and tugged you into him so that your chest was flush against his. He kissed you softly, his lips moved meaningfully with yours, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss before he pulled away reluctantly.

He rested his forehead on yours and let the words he was thinking slip from his lips, his smile back and wider than it had been before your lips connected, “You’re perfect all the time.”

Peter watched in concern as you seemed to zone out for a second, a thoughtful look on your face. It only lasted a few seconds, though.

As quickly as it had gone, the fog returned and the memory slipped away as if it were never there to begin with, leaving only a feeling of warmth behind. With a gentle shake of your head, you zoned back in on Peter.

His heart skipped a beat at the smile that stretched across your lips. It was dazzling, no that wasn’t it, it was perfect.

He watched mesmerised as you shrugged your shoulders and spoke through a grin, “Not sure. It just reminded me of you… for some reason.”

Maybe, you’d been right to say you’d known him before. There was something so vividly sentimental to you about the boy that had you convinced that; yes, perhaps you had been met with his adoring smile before- in another life.

[mercy-burning]

Out Of Commission

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After being severely injured on a case, Reader needs to take it easy, and she finds a creative way for Spencer to make her feel better. Category: Smut 18+ (male masturbation, dirty talk - mentions of fingering, penetrative sex, overstimulation and multiple orgasms) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 1.9k (she’s a short one, but hella spicy, so I hope that makes up for it lol)

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST 

***

The first week was okay. She was resting and taking it easy, as she should, but by the second week of sitting in bed or on the couch, with extra coddling from her boyfriend and her family and her friends, Y/N was growing restless.

It's not like she didn't enjoy or appreciate the constant affection and nice gestures from Spencer in particular, but she wanted something different, something she knew he would refuse in fear of tearing her stitches or irritating her wounds.

Why did serial killers have to be so goddamn inconvenient?

It didn't help that Spencer was at her house almost every night. He'd offered to take the couch a few times, but Y/N dumbly insisted he stay in her bed with her, hoping his presence would bring her comfort. And to some degree it did, of course, but more often than not Y/N found herself wanting nothing more than to wrap herself up in him and kiss him until they both fell asleep. And sometimes that did happen, though Spencer was careful to watch where he placed his hands, pulling his body away from hers almost completely at times so he wouldn't hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

Even though it was obvious to the two of them that they both wanted more, it was just too dangerous, and Y/N needed to heal properly.

One night she was sitting in bed, watching a movie she'd already seen about twenty times, about ready to turn it off when Spencer walked in, a bag of Red Vines in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"I thought you might want a snack," he said with a smile as he brought them over, leaning down and giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N turned off the TV and shrugged. She opened the water bottle as Spencer climbed into bed next to her. He remained on top of the covers, leaning his back against the headboard and turning his head to look at her.

"I'm alright," she answered after taking a drink of water. "Nothing hurts. I'm just bored."

He placed a hand on her knee over the comforter and snuggled just a little closer. "If anything starts to hurt, let me know. I'll get you your medicine."

Y/N smiled up at her boyfriend and leaned forward to kiss him, saying, "thank you," before their lips met. It was a small, sweet kiss, but after they pulled away, Y/N went in for another, bringing her hand up to lightly brush Spencer's cheek. He kissed her back softly, his hand massaging her knee with the same tenderness.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth carefully when their lips parted, and his hand squeezed her knee a little harder. But he didn't pull away, so she took that as a good sign. She could feel herself getting more excited as his hand slipped up her leg through the comforter to grip her thigh, so she sighed into his mouth and brought her hand down to run over his torso, using her nails to lightly scratch him through his shirt.

His grip on her thigh tightened when she slipped her hand under the tee shirt, bringing it around his waist to pull him closer to her.

"Wait, Y/N," Spencer said, pulling away from her completely. She pouted when she looked at him and he looked just as disappointed as she was. "We... We can't. You're not healed properly, and it's not safe right now. We should stop."

Not completely willing to give up yet, she leaned her head down onto his shoulder, snuggling up to him and pressing a kiss to his neck as she guided his hand to his lap. Right over the bulge she knew would already be forming.

"Well... Just because I'm out of commission doesn't mean you have to be... Don't you want to feel good?"

She gripped his hand tighter and ran it over his dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. "How long has it been since you touched yourself, hmm?" she whispered into his ear, taking it softly between her teeth for a moment as she continued to guide his hand.

Spencer's breathing picked up and he shifted a little. She could feel him swallow before answering. "Um... A-about a month? And a half?"

"So... not once since I've been injured? Baby..." She made it a point to sound as sorry as she could, continuing to kiss his neck and leave little licks and bites that would surely leave marks. "I know I can't really physically help you, but... What if I kept talking? Hmm? Would you like that?"

She felt his breath hitch when her hand left his and grabbed his chin to face her. She could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to take control. But she was, in fact, out of commission, and no matter how much they both wanted it, this was the next best thing.

Y/N ran her thumb along his lower lip as she softly bit her own, her eyes completely lost in his. "Let me help you feel good, baby... Please..."

Once she pulled out the begging, he was done for. And they both knew it.

Spencer gave in, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand as he shifted, lifting his hips off the bed to slide down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his dick. Y/N smiled and started kissing his neck again, using one of her hands to gently graze her fingernails up and down his stomach and chest under his shirt.

She watched intently as his hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb occasionally swiping over the tip and smearing precum over it. "Mmm, I missed seeing your cock, baby," she spoke softly into his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to it every so often in between words. "I love watching how good you work it... So nice and slow... And your hand... God, it's so hot seeing you use your hands..."

Spencer let out a small whine as Y/N started sucking on his neck, her hand paying careful attention to his nipples under his shirt. His hand moved a little faster, and she smiled against him.

"Tell me... If you could fuck me right now, what would you do to me?" she whispered in his ear, using her unoccupied hand to play and tug at his hair as she watched him jerk off.

He didn't answer for a few moments, concentrating on working his dick and being caught up in the way she felt him up, his breathing a little ragged.

"Hmm?" she pressed, tugging harder on his hair, and he whimpered.

"I... I'd want to take you f-from behind," he choked out honestly, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued his ministrations.

Y/N laughed softly, kissing his jawline. "Mmm, I love when you fuck me from behind... Especially over the counter. I love feeling your pretty fingers dig into my hips as you just pound me into the cold marble..."

His noises got a little louder as she kissed down his throat and neck, moaning into his skin as she did so. "Fuck, I miss having your cock inside me, baby... I miss it so much, you always know how to fuck me so good..."

At this point she was absolutely worked up, her pussy clenching around nothing as she slowly laid out these filthy images for her boyfriend. It was frustrating to say the least, knowing she couldn't do anything about it without potentially hurting herself. She thought about slipping a hand under the covers and masturbating with him, but truthfully she wasn't sure how it would affect her healing. Even sitting up this long, her torso slightly twisted so she could lean into Spencer's body and help him out was starting to take its toll.

So, she tried her hardest to ignore what her lower half was feeling and laser all her attention onto her boyfriend, who was dangerously close to finding release. She watched as his hand moved, lost in the soft, wet sounds of his quick movements mixing beautifully with his whines and moans. "Y/N, I... Fuck," he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

She nodded, softly rubbing her thighs together as she kissed his neck and watched his hand. "I know, baby... What do you want, hmm? The first thing you want to do to me as soon as I'm all better..."

"I... I want... I want to finger you... I wanna feel your legs clench around my hand while I finger you from behind."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh against his neck, licking and sucking at it again. "Mmm, you would like that, wouldn't you? To feel me cum on your fingers? Shaking around them while I yell out your name?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes," he managed through a moan.

She hummed into his skin, noticing how heavy his breathing was getting. Since he was close, she put extra performance into her words, taking the time to say each one slowly, and with just the right amount of softness and innocence in her tone.

"And then, even after you've made me cum, I'd bet you'd love to keep fucking me... Only this time you'd want to see my face, because you'd love to make me cry from fucking me so hard... You'd love seeing mascara run down my face, hearing how whiny I am, begging you to stop because it's too much..."

Spencer leaned the side of his head against hers as his breathing picked up. "Shit," he breathed, his voice shaky.

"And you'd love to wipe the tears from my face as you fuck me even harder, telling me to take it like a good girl..."

That was all it took for him to finally finish. Y/N was prepared, lifting up his shirt so that he could cum mostly on his stomach. She moaned right along with him, using her other hand to stroke his jaw as he came. She watched with wonder and adoration as the thick, white substance landed in perfect splatters all over his stomach.

His hand slowed to a stop once he was finished, and Y/N pressed a soft, sensual kiss to jaw, right before turning his face to meet hers. He kissed her lazily, their tongues both colliding with soft strokes that grew heavier on Y/N's part until Spencer pulled away.

She whined at the loss of contact, and he laughed softly. "You didn't really think this through, did you?"

"Uh-uh," she replied with another whine, burying her face in his shoulder.

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She still held his shirt up to his chest so it wouldn't get messy, so he sat up off the headboard a little and pulled it all the way off, tossing it to the floor. "I gotta get cleaned up. Maybe when I'm done we should get you into a cold shower."

She stuck her tongue out at him before an idea struck her. Spencer was about to get up, but she grabbed his arm. "Wait. Let me help."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop her when she brought her fingers to his stomach, scooping up some of his cum and bringing it to her lips, smearing it there for a moment before cleaning it all off. She looked him in the eye the entire time, though that clearly gave away how frustrated she still was that she couldn't get herself off.

"That didn't help you at all, did it?" Spencer mused.

Y/N pouted. "No..."

He kissed her on the head again before getting out of bed. "I'm gonna go run you a shower, okay? How cold do you want it?"

"Very cold."

[glxssylaufey]

high by the beach [jonathan pine]

summary: Jonathan Pine x reader ; you are the oldest daughter of Richard Roper. needing an escape from reality, you sneak out to the beach for a quick joint. what you didn’t expect was for Jonathan Pine to catch you.

warnings: smoking weed, age gap (still over 18!) , underaged drinking/smoking, sexual tension

a/u: yes, this is 100% based off the song “high by the beach” by lana del rey :) enjoy!

*°:⋆ₓₒ　ₓₒ⋆:°* *°:⋆ₓₒ　ₓₒ⋆:°* *°:⋆ₓₒ　ₓₒ⋆:°* *°:⋆ₓₒ　ₓₒ⋆:°*

You didn’t belong there, to say the least. You sat alone at a small empty table at one of your father’s late night parties. His parties were always extravagant and flashy. It seemed as if he only threw the parties just to remind everyone how wealthy he is. These events always made your ears ring with annoyance. Summers always felt like this. Your mother would send you and your little brother Danny to visit, but it never seemed like Richard ever has any time for you and your brother.

After finishing yet another glass of champagne, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. You still had one year to go before you could legally drink alcohol, though Roper and all his excessive friends never seemed to care. Suddenly, ears perked up upon hearing your name being called.

“Sister! I’ve brought you some sweets!” your little brother Danny called, setting a napkin full of cookies down on the table. You smiled ruffled his brown messy hair.

“That was very kind of you, Danny, thank you.” you laughed, picking up one of the cookies. “Are you having fun?” you asked. His face lit up with excitement.

“Yes, loads!” he confessed. You were glad at least one of you were having fun. “I made a friend yesterday, too.” he said. You raised an eyebrow, trying to remember if you had seen any other children his age here.

“Oh really?” you asked, chewing a bite of cookie. “What’s their name?” Danny’s smile became wider.

“I’ll go fetch him, I want you to meet him!” he said quickly before running off. Before you could open your mouth to protest, he was already gone. You sighed deeply before picking up another cookie, hoping this new friend of Danny’s is an old enough child to understand boundaries and not talk for hours on end.

What you absolutely did not expect was for Danny’s new friend to be a full grown man. A handsome one at that. The man sauntered up to your table holding Danny’s hand, wearing a navy blue suit that hugged his body perfectly. He looked like the perfect gentleman.

“Hi there.” he spoke, voice smooth as silk. “Name’s Jonathan.” he put his hand out to shake yours. You looked up at him, trying to wear your friendliest smile. When you took his hand to shake it, you nearly melted. His grip was firm yet not too tight and you could swear there was electricity coming out of his fingers.

“Pleased to meet you.” you finally said after clearing your throat. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.” he repeated, testing your name on his tongue. “The pleasure is all mine. Your brother is quite the company.” he chucked, smiling down at Danny. The younger boy beamed proudly, looking back up at you.

“I wanna go look for dad, Y/N.” the young boy said.

“That’s fine.” you said with a nod, leaning back in your chair trying to remain calm. You could still practically feel Jonathan’s eyes roaming all over you.

“Come on, Jonathan!” Danny exclaimed, grabbing the man’s hand again. “Once I’m done we can go play!” this made Jonathan chuckle.

“Why don’t you go on without me for a little, Danny.” he said gently pulling away from your brother’s hand. The boy complied and began to walk after flashing you and Jonathan a smile. You took a deep breath after Danny traveled off while Jonathan pulled a chair up.

“So how is the all famous Y/N Roper doing this fine evening?” Jonathan teased with a chuckle. His words made you blush easily.

“She’s doing just fine.” you said in the best flirtatious tone you could muster. “But she would probably be much better with a refill.” she spoke scooting her empty glass towards Jonathan. He cocked his head at you slightly before standing to his feet, a bit more hesitant than usual.

“Well of course, I am a gentleman.” he joked before grabbing your glass. “So what can I get for you tonight, darling? Water? Punch?” he continued.

“Punch?” you asked nearly offended. “More champagne will do just fine, thank you.”

“Champagne? Danny says you’re only twenty.”

“So?” you ask. “My father doesn’t care if I drink at this age. I also don’t think he’d be very pleased you’re making me wait for a drink.” you said almost in a whisper, the previous alcohol in your system making you confident. You knew your father probably wouldn’t care if Jonathan retrieved a drink for you or not, you only wished to appear authoritative for the upper hand on the man.

“Well, my deepest apologies, Miss Roper.” Jonathan said playfully before shooting you a wink. “One glass of champagne coming right up.”

You giggled as you watched Jonathan walk off to fill your glass. The way he strutted away while his height allowed him to tower over the crowd gave you intense butterflies. You really couldn’t believe you were spending the night flirting with an older gentleman, as proper and handsome as they come. It excited you to no end.

When Jonathan returned back to your table he arrived holding two champagne glasses, one for you and one for him. The two of you continued to talk to allow yourselves to get to know each other. He told you stories of serving in the military and you told him stories of previous summers spent here with Danny. You and Jonathan were quite an attractive pair to be seen and when it ended up catching Frisky’s attention, things took a turn.

Frisky was a smart man. He never failed in intimidating anybody. That’s why Richard Roper put him in charge of keeping an eye on you and Danny to prevent the two of you getting into any trouble. Knowing Jonathan’s flirty antics, Frisky deemed this a solid opportunity to step in.

You caught a quick glimpse of Frisky hastily making his way to your table. You gave a sarcastic deep sigh at him, knowing exactly why he was so worked up. Once the bulky man stopped at your table he crossed his arms and lifted his chin towards Jonathan.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Pine?” he said in a serious tone. Jonathan didn’t seem too phased by him.

“Well, I’m just having a drink here with Miss Y/N.” he replied almost bored.

“Yes, Miss Y/N Roper. I know what you’re up to.” Frisky snapped.

“Frisky, please!” you interrupted. “I’m a grown woman, if you should be babysitting any of my father’s family it should be Danny.” you argued with him. Though Frisky was stubborn.

“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N. Pine, get up.” he waved his hands at Jonathan. “Go find Danny and put him to bed, it’s late.” he demanded. Jonathan didn’t put up any further struggle. He calmly rose from his chair and took one last sip of his champagne. He then gave you a gentle smile and bowed his head.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.” he said sweetly.

“Thank you, Jonathan.” you nodded. As he walked away with Frisky you sank in your chair slightly before sighing. ‘Well there goes that excitement.’ you thought. You were growing quite tired of your father and his men treating you like a mere child when you’re an adult. Standing front your seat, you finish off your glass before storming off to your room. At this point, the party just felt like an inconvenience.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Your eyes felt heavy with sleep by the time you were sure everyone had gone to bed. Though you were in dire need of rest, you couldn’t seem to relax. It was 1 a.m. and you decided to settle your nerves with a late night walk. The punishments for being caught were severe but you were confident in yourself to know you wouldn’t be caught.

You quickly packed a small bag for your walk, including a jacket along with your stash of three joint of weed and a lighter. You always enjoyed a quick light up when you felt a bit tense. You tip toed silently down the stairs and out the back doors. From the pool’s patio, you had a beautiful view of the ocean. You decided to walk down to take your quick walk in the beach.

After successfully sneaking through the large property you finally found a spot to relax on the vast beach. There was a full moon illuminating the night sky, allowing you good skylight in the darkness. You sat down upon the sand close to the shore and opened up your bag. You wrapped your jacket around you to act as a blanket in the wind. Then you lastly picked a slim joint out of your bag along with a small yellow lighter. You clicked the lighter and put the flame towards the end your joint to burn the end. Afterwards you put the joint between your lips and took a deep drag. Inhaling the smoke, you closed your eyes and felt the wind blow against your skin. You began to relish in the light headed feeling as your body began to relax. After an exhale, you began to take another puff.

“Excuse me?”

You jumped upon hearing a voice next to you. You looked up at the figure above you, only to find the one and only Jonathan Pine standing talk above you. You quickly exhaled the smoke and attempted to hide the joint.

“What are you doing at this hour?” Jonathan asked you in a slightly hushed tone.

“I could ask you the same.” you stated sitting up straighter.

“Couldn’t sleep. Just wanted to get some fresh air.” he calmly explained. He was wearing a fitted t-shirt and grey sweatpants with his blonde curls a bit of a mess. It was definitely quite the outfit change from the party but he still managed to be probably the most attractive man you’ve seen.

He looked out to the waves for a second before bringing his gaze back to you. He gave you a shy smile before speaking again.

“May I join you?” he asked politely. You were relieved when you realized he wasn’t going to snitch to your father about sneaking out or drag you to his room. So you moved your backpack and pat on the sand beside you.

“Of course.” you replied. He sank down to the ground and got comfortable in his spot. There was a bit of silence with nothing but the sound of waves crashing in the night. After a couple seconds you placed your lit joint back between your lips to take a puff. Jonathan watched with a smile.

“Weed?” he asked with curiosity. He wore a smile that told you you didn’t have to hide it from him.

“Yeah.” you admitted. “It helps me relax.” you said turning to look at him. He chuckled a little while shaking his head.

“My my, little Miss Roper. First we drink champagne at the party underaged and now you’re smoking marijuana?” he mocked a tsk and winked. “You’re a very naughty girl, Y/N.” he said darkly.

You giggled and blushed profusely at his comment and you could feel your heart begin to race.

“I’d love to.” he said before taking the items from your fingers. “Would you help me, darling?” he asked handing you the lighter. You accepted with a playful smirk. Once he placed the joint between his lips you raised the flame to meet it’s end. He inhaled deep, expertly intaking the smoke. He held his breath before blowing out the smoke into the wind. He chuckled lightly before taking the joint from his mouth.

“Do you want to join me? I have an extra.” you offered with a smile. Jonathan smiled at you, watching as you pulled out a second joint and your lighter. He hesitated to answer at first, making you think he would decline. You were pleasantly surprised with his answer.

“Good?” you asked with a smile.

“Very.” he laughed, his head falling back slightly.

You both continued to laugh, the two of you already buzzed. Jonathan took another drag of his joint before clearing his throat.

“We should do this more often.” he joked, leaning into you slightly. You laughed and took another hit.

“What? Sneak out and get high?” you asked. Jonathan scoffed while tapping some ash off his joint.

“Technically, you’re the one sneaking out. I’m allowed to be out here, I’m an adult.” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m an adult too, I don’t care what you think.” you sassed back. Jonathan raised an eyebrow at you.

“You know what I really think?” he asked, his voice deepening. You shivered at his tone, looking up to meet his bright blue eyes, finding his face much closer to yours.

“What?” you asked.

“I think you’re beautiful.” he whispered in your ear before looking down for your reaction. You could feel your face heating up from his comment. Jonathan’s cologne overtook your senses as you leaned in closer to him.

“I think you’re high.” you replied, breaking into laughter. Jonathan chuckled before raising his head.

“Yes, but you are too.” he said. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could protest Jonathan’s lips crashed against yours. You melted into him, deepening the kiss. Jonathan pulled away before looking into your slightly red eyes.

“Jonathan Pine, you are exquisite” you sighed, before bringing your lips back to his. The kiss was more passionate this time, the both of you relishing in the taste of each other and the euphoria of your high. Everything felt so perfect. Jonathan laced his fingers into your hair, making you whimper. You broke the kiss with the older man, allowing both you and him to breath. Jonathan lifted your chin with a finger, raking his blue eyes all over you.

“And you, Y/N Roper, are perfection itself.”

[baureidalvez]

Angels Chasing Demons • Spencer Reid

This is my first Criminal Minds blurb! I'm new to the fandom and haven't even watched the whole thing yet (at the start of s11!) but I couldn't resist writing a little something. Feedback and reblogs would be SO appreciated, as I'm a little nervous to post this!

Summary: you try to hide your feelings from Spencer after he got shot, with little success. Mainly just lots of fluff and emotions!

Word count: 2,181

Episode: 🚨S9 ep 23/24🚨

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

You plump up the cushion behind Spencer’s head, being careful not to jostle him, noting the wince in his throat as he settles against the sofa. He nods as much as he can, a small smile on his lips, now that he’s out of the stiff hospital bed and back in your flat where he belongs. He’s on strict bed rest; Rossi told you to hide his work phone for at least a week, but you know he won’t allow that. You know it’ll barely be a few days before he’s asking for it again.

“I think I’m as comfortable as I can be for someone who just got shot in the neck,” He replies, the usual sarcastic twinge to his voice. “You know, the doctor told me that the bulle-“

“Babe,” You swallow the lump in your throat and try not to let Spencer see the tears in your eyes, this being one of the reasons having a profiler as a boyfriend is so inconvenient. You can’t hide anything. He narrows his eyes as he observes you, a free hand reaching to squeeze one of yours. “When it’s been more than a few days and you’ve healed and rested, you can tell me all about the science behind you being shot. For now, I don’t want to hear it.”

He nods once more and remembers that you haven’t seen the things he’s seen; it’s not part of your daily routine to find dead bodies and analyse every aspect to work out who committed such a thing. It’s engrained in him now, it’s second nature – you can listen to so much, but when it’s regarding the sweet man sat in front of you, you can barely look at him without wanting to burst into tears. There has been many tears over the past few days – first following the call from Garcia, and then again in the waiting room as Blake tried to keep you sane.

“I do need one more thing,” He murmurs, his hand still clutching yours, thumb stroking over the back like he doesn’t want to let go. “Will you lay with me?”

There’s nothing you want more than to be close to him, yet you know you need a minute to compose yourself. From hearing that he got shot to waiting for him to come out of surgery, to then hear that Garcia had saved him from being shot once more in a place that should have been safe – it’s all been a little too much. You lean forward to brush a chaste kiss to his lips, his gaze set on you as he waits for your answer. “Of course. Just give me two minutes, okay? There’s definitely three more care packages outside the door that I need to bring in before one of the neighbours takes them.”

“Okay.” He whispers, and you kiss his forehead before tucking the thick blanket over his lap, with a promise to be back in a moment. He sighs and knows that you’re not okay. He’s not okay either – he knows it’s only a matter of time before the nightmares start again, and he won’t be sleeping, but somehow it was easier to deal with when it was just him alone. Now you’re around too, he hates being the cause of your upset. He lays back against his cushion as you close the door to the apartment, and it’s barely a few seconds before tears are slipping down your cheeks. You were right, there is another care package sat on the doorstep, which you know is from Garcia. It’s not the reason you’re out there though, in the silent hall, the only sound being the sobs you’re trying to conceal at the thought of your boyfriend inside. It’s so hard seeing him in pain. He loves everyone around him, he loves his job, he’s dedicated his life to catching the bad guys and protecting people, no matter what it takes. He doesn’t deserve the pain he’s been through, and every time he’s called to a case, you pray to some higher being to keep him safe. Nothing makes your heart race more than an unexpected phone call or a text, your mind instantly going to the worst scenario possible. In this case, it almost had been.

Spencer may be off work and on bed rest, but it doesn’t stop the profiler part of his brain from being awake. He hears the sound he was expecting to hear as soon as you close the door, and it goes straight to tug on his heartstrings. Sometimes he doesn’t have all of the answers, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he shouldn’t get up from the couch, and he’s not sure he’ll physically be able to without injuring himself further. He clears his throat before trying to call out your name.

“Honey…” He calls again, when your name doesn’t get your attention. Not enough to come back inside anyway. “I really want to be able to comfort you right now but I physically can’t move, so, can you come back inside please?”

You chuckle behind the door through your tears and shake your head, feeling silly for thinking even for a moment that he wouldn’t know what you were doing. Swiping the tears from under your eyes, you compose yourself as much as you can, picking up the picnic basket full of snacks and tea before pushing the door open again.

“I manage to salvage this one before next door got hold of it,” You try to laugh it off, but he hears your voice wobble, and his eyes follow you as soon as he spots you. “It’s from Garcia again, she left a not-“

“Babe.” He sighs, cutting you off from rambling about anything other than the current situation. “Come here, please? You don’t have to hide from me.” Warm tears are cascading down your cheeks once more when you realise there’s no concealing it, there’s no way to keep it hidden anymore. You don’t want to push him away, but somehow your upset seems less valid than his – he’s the one who had to go through the physical pain, he got shot, it should be you taking care of him. Spencer doesn’t see it that way, though.

“Please don’t cry because of me, love,” He murmurs as you sit down next to him, pressing your face against his sweater covered chest. He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you in close, tucking your face against his shoulder, wetness from your eyes hitting the material as you cry. “Shh, I’m right here, now.”

He lets you cry it out for a few minutes, soothing sounds slipping from his lips, a warm hand rubbing the top of your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You know you should, that you’re going to have to at some point, although you don’t even know where to begin. Spencer stalls for a few moments though, giving you another minute to calm down.

“Did you know, crying is actually a good thing? Research has found that crying actually does make you feel better, and the lump that you feel in your throat, isn’t actually a lump at all. It’s your autonomic nervous system going into high alert, which enlarges the glottis, the opening in your throat which allows you to get more air in to your lungs. It’s the tension between trying to open and close your glottis that makes it feel like a lump.” He keeps going and all you can do is smile, even though the words aren’t registering; you’re just happy to have your Spencer back and in one piece. “But.. even though it’s a good thing, it doesn’t make it any easier for me to see.”

Spencer feels an urge to comfort people, he hates seeing people cry. He remembers the unsettled feeling in his stomach that he feels whenever he sees JJ cry, or he finds a survivor who can do nothing but let out their emotions. He’s no stranger to crying himself, and if he’s honest, seeing you fall apart in his arms has his own eyes burning.

You rub your cheek against the material of his sweater, the smell soothing and familiar, much different to the clinical scent that clung to him after his hospital stay. “Spence… we almost lost you.”

Your mind flashes back to the beeping of machines, Blake’s arms wrapped around you in the waiting room, clinging onto any shred of hope that he was going to pull through the surgery. You vaguely remember a conversation between Blake and JJ, about how Spencer wants to have kids, and Rossi saying he’s too smart to die – he has too much to live for. It’s all true. He has the rest of his life to live and knowing he got close to almost not having that, is enough to scare you to death.

“We didn’t know if you were going to pull through. My heart sinks every time my phone rings, I just get so worried about you… and then I actually got that call.” You explain, unsure where you’re headed, but knowing he needs to hear it. He listens as you cry in his arms, his thumb gently brushing each tear away as it falls. “I know this is your job, your life, and I would never take that away from you. You’re amazing at what you do, and the world needs you. I just wish I could know that you’re safe. People shouldn’t be allowed to hurt someone like you.”

He exhales through his nose as he thinks of the situation from your perspective. Obviously, he was worried, but he always pushes it to the back of his mind when he’s in the heat of the moment, doing anything he can to protect others around him. He pushed Blake out of the way to keep her safe, and he’d choose that option every time. In the moment, he doesn’t think of the repercussions. It always happens so quickly, and the next thing he knows he’s in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. He hates seeing people that he loves in pain, and he hates getting those calls too. He’ll never forget the feeling of finding out that Garcia had been shot, or that JJ had been tortured. It’s a ball of anxiety that sits in the pit of his stomach, and he realises that must be how you feel, every time he goes on a case.

“The world would be a better place if no-one ever got hurt. I like to think my job plays a part in trying to achieve that,” He replies, fingertips trailing up and down your back as he speaks. “There’s always going to be more cases, more bad guys, but every day, we put more of them away. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s a part of me now..”

“I know, and I don’t want to change that about you.” You assure him, squeezing his hand to get his full attention. “I’m not asking you to change anything. I just wish you didn’t have to get hurt, or be in pain. I’m too scared of losing you. You have too much to give back to the world for that to happen.”

“I love you.” He murmurs, making sure to look right at you, your eyes locked on his. “I know I’m not easy to be with, I’m away a lot, and I get hurt… but everything feels easier with you around. And I wish I could move my neck so I could kiss you right now.”

You laugh and carefully sit up as not to jostle him, moving your face closer so the tip of your nose nudges his. “I love you, too.”

Spencer steals the first kiss, his soft but slightly chapped lips brushing yours, moving his head as much as he can so your foreheads touch. You kiss him back with as much love as you can muster up, wanting him to feel every inch of it, knowing that he does. You sigh contentedly, feeling better after your discussion, but knowing he has a long way to go to heal. The kissing is interrupted by the sound of his phone, and you shake your head, remembering Rossi’s orders to keep it away from him and to not let him answer.

“My phone, can you get it? I can’t move,” He asks, looking around the room from where the sound is coming from.

“Nope,” You reply, shaking your head, punctuating the sound with another kiss to Spencer’s lips. “Strict orders from Rossi, no phone for at least two weeks. You need to rest, and I’m about to go and turn it off.”

He watches as you push up from the sofa, going to find his bag, and pulling the vibrating phone from the front pocket. He shakes his head as he hears you head to the bedroom, keeping it tucked away whilst he recoups. He’s in pain, and he knows he doesn’t have an easy road ahead, but with you to take care of him… somehow, things don’t feel so bad.

**

Feedback would be appreciated! Let me know what you think here <3

[gryffindors-weasley]

A Sweeter Ending

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a dreadful day, you have Colin to wipe your tears and make it better.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: bad day, crying, mentions of food, brief mentions of alcohol, insecurities, comfort, fluff, kissing

Disastrous. That was the best way you could have described your day—absolutely disastrous. It seemed as though a string of clumsy bad luck had wrapped around you from the very moment you woke up, weaving around everything you did and everything you will continue to do. You were certain there was nothing that could go right and you have yet to be proven wrong from that thought.

Presently, you sat in the quiet tension of the carriage, Colin’s blue velvet coat settled around your shoulders as his hand enveloped yours. Benedict sat across from you, Violet to his right, and you allowed yourself to do nothing more than to look out of the small window as tears spill silently over your heated cheeks, one after another. Your lip quivered pitifully from the weight of your frustrated emotions pressing heavily upon you, and it was far too quiet for you to allow yourself to sniffle. You hadn’t even wanted to wipe your cheeks; even that would be far too obvious an action. You were completely and utterly miserable, hopelessly exhausted.

It had started when you had woken up an hour later than you should have, thus making you ridiculously late for your final fitting at the Modiste. For the dress you were to wear at the ball that very evening. She was incredibly understanding as she always had been, but the embarrassment burning your cheeks a more than noticeable shade of pink as you stood on the platform to be fitted was obvious. To you, to her, to anyone in company at her shop. You felt rather rude for being late, a handful—a dozen apologies sputtering past your lips. It had set the tone for your day ahead.

Several little inconveniences had rained upon you since that morning, whether it may be the way you nearly tripped as you made your leave from your carriage. Or the way the drizzling rain had caused your hair to be needing fixed, the once beautiful style now dampened and dull. You felt horrible for the need to have it done again; it was not a simple task and you had already felt annoying from earlier that morning. It felt as though you couldn’t make it a mere five minutes without tripping over your feet or the skirt of your dress either, wanting nothing more than to let your frustrated tears spill over your cheeks. But you couldn’t, that would have to wait.

Then, as the day passed agonizingly into the dinner with the Bridgerton family before the grand ball that evening, the one the Queen would be in attendance to, matters had gotten far worse. All had been well as it always had when you were in their presence. They were a delightfully warm and welcoming family, one full of love and laughter. But your mood had quickly been soured when you accidentally spilled your wine on the front of your newly stitched dress. As if to make matters far worse, your hands instinctively reach to blot the mess, effectively staining your satin gloves a matching shade of deep and unforgiving crimson. You were positively sure your cheeks burned the same shade as the beverage spilled all over you and beaded across the delicate fabric.

Mrs. Bridgerton hadn’t minded the incident, of course not. You had been a family friend nearly the entirety of your life, and her son’s true love. She could never be bothered by such a trivial mishap, she knows she’s made quite a few herself. But you, you felt absolutely terrible. Not only were all eyes on you, not out of mocking in the slightest, but their joined gazes had the tears pressing further behind your eyes. Not to mention, the time and effort put into the making of that dress was now ruined by your blunder. To be completely and dramatically honest, you wanted the fancy intricacies of the floor beneath your feet to open up and swallow you whole.

The ballroom. That had been a disaster of its own. All was perfectly well and as it should be, your first dance of the night had gone perfectly until it tapered off into a myriad of misfortune. You had lost your footing more times than you had cared to even think about for more than a second, bumping into a couple dancing and easily throwing off their rhythm as the debutant in question sent you a rather rude stare. On a good day it wouldn’t have bothered you, you simply would have offered a polite nod in apology and moved on, but today was not a good day. The action paired with your earlier troubles had a small frown tugging at your lips, one Colin had been quick to change just with the softness of his smile and the kindness of his reassurance.

It was wishful thinking for you to believe the flurry of bad luck had ceased after that, but said luck has a funny way of presenting itself over and over. It had done just that. You would have been fine if it’d been left at your clumsy mistake, it would have been more than preferable. But you knew the moment the dreaded Lord Berbrooke had spilled his lemonade on you, on your new and fresh dress, you knew that had been it. Furthermore, Cressida Cowper’s taunting laughter had been more than enough reason to want a change of scenery. To want to go home. It simply was not an option to continue to subject yourself to further upset and embarrassment.

So now there you sat, in the confines of your carriage as you sulk in your own feelings yet you still try to keep them at bay all the same. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been quite so bad on a different day, one that had been more smooth sailing. Perhaps you were being dramatic, they were minor inconveniences after all. But the build up of one thing after another after the next had pushed you to your very limit no matter how minute and silly it may have been otherwise. Everything small had a large impact on your worsening mood, like the hair brushing stubbornly against your cheek or the back of your shoe rubbing against your heel.

You hated to feel this way, to be so overwhelmed when there wasn’t necessarily a reason to be so. It made you feel as though you were acting childish and difficult. It made it worse.

After a while you took a deep breath, shaky and upset, the hand in your own squeezing tighter ever so gently as his thumb brushed over your skin and you could feel his gaze on you. The small action had made your heart flutter, the affectionate kindness of it. You decided against risking a glance at your love, however, you knew you’d break in an instant if you allowed yourself to do so. It was then that you felt a nudge at your foot, shifting your stare to the brunette across from you.

“At least it smells lemony fresh in here, does it not, Y/n/n?” Benedict grins, immediately swatted harshly on the arm by his mother, sent a glare and a complaint from his brother.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and a soft laugh leaves your lips, however, a brief moment of humor breaking you from your misery if only just for a second. He’d seen the tears glimmering on your cheeks, he’d seen how upset you’d been ever since dinner, he knew he had to do something. And he’s glad his valiant attempt did not prove to be futile.

“I suppose you’re right,” you sigh in amusement, rolling your eyes.

You nudged his foot in return, sharing a mirrored look of scrunched noses and smiles. You appreciated the moment of lighthearted distraction, the tightness in your chest easing some as the soft laughter mingling in the small space began to dwindle and die down.

The rest of the ride had been quiet after that, the obvious tension having lessened considerably and your tears not quite as incessant as before. They still welled upon even the slightest thought of what had transpired that day, of the unsurprising cruelty always emanating from Miss Cowper. You knew better than to let her get to you, but a bad day will change such things.

—

When you arrive at the Bridgerton home, they bid you a loving farewell, Benedict sending you a pout of sympathy. He had even blown you a kiss before his mother had pulled him along by the wrist.

“Are you alright, my love?” Colin asks now that the company had since left, the carriage departing from his family home and towards your own shared estate. Despite the absence of an audience in the current moment, he still spoke softly, his gaze focused on you attentively as he awaited your response.

You nod, trying not to let the question get to you as much as it was trying to but the quiver in your lip had said otherwise. The soft tone he’d used was enough to make you burst into tears for that matter. His frown had gone unseen but his sigh not unheard, and soon you felt his lips press tenderly to your temple. They lingered before another was placed in the same spot as the first, and you finally allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder.

You had hoped you weren’t being difficult to be around and you had hoped you weren’t being bratty towards anyone you encountered, but the dreadful day had taken its awful toll on you and it was becoming far more challenging to suppress its impact. Grateful seemed to be a vast understatement when it came to Colin Bridgerton. He was impossibly sweet and incredibly patient, and he bestowed upon you the utmost of love no matter the situation. So yes, you would have to say that grateful had been a rather large understatement.

“I love you,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to the scar just under his chin. “Very much.”

He looked down at you with a smile, kissing the tip of your nose. “Have I ever told you that I love you more?”

You laugh softly and let your eyes flutter closed, feeling his kiss on your and a squeeze to your hand.

“I believe you’ve done so today, more than once if my memory serves me correctly.”

He squeezes your hand lightly in playful retaliation at your jesting, exhaling a sigh that mingled with his laughter.��“Well, it is only true. I love you more.”

—

You sigh softly upon finally entering the comfort of your bedroom, a place you so longed to return to, shrugging Colin’s coat from your shoulders in absolute defeat. You were desperate to rid yourself of your lemonade stained dress, the pale yellow splotch that splattered across the front only taunting you by that point. Your feet ached and you felt utterly drained.

It was a pitiful struggle to get it off in your terrible mood, one that required several huffs on your end and a chuckle or two from Colin just paces away. But you had done it, hastily draping it over the chair by your vanity and refusing to give it a second glance.

“Would it be so bad to ask for help sometimes?” Colin asks, smiling warmly as another soft laugh leaves his lips while he rolls up his sleeves. His vest lay in a heap on the chest at the foot of the bed, shirt half unbuttoned as he looked at you fondly despite the angry frown you held.

“At this point, yes, it would,” you state, sighing as you smooth down your nightdress, the tears welling once more. They had not been done with you just yet.

His dimpled smile fades only slightly, and he steps across the room to stand before you. He looks at you for a moment, taking your face in his hands. He was gentle as he wiped your tears; his thumbs swiping gingerly across your flushed cheeks, a kiss pressed to your rosy nose. His forehead rested on your own then, his hands sliding down your arms to grasp your hands securely.

“I know that today has been rather unlucky—far more than most,” he chuckles softly, his laugh puffing against your lips and his nose bumping yours. “But do you wish to know something, darling?”

You nod against him after a brief moment, lip still wobbly and eyes still very teary. His eyes fall closed as he smiles, one that goes unseen in the close proximity. “Do enlighten me.”

His lips press to yours before he speaks, tender and fleeting and coming in a flurry of affection. So lovingly sweet he’d just about forgotten what he was ready to say, what he was doing. But he quickly regains his train of thought when laugh softly.

“Even with wine and lemonade dousing your dresses, even with your hair being what you have deemed to be out of place or ruined, even with your teary eyes and reddened face—you are still and always will be the most radiant. It is perfectly well to cry, but you must know that I shall always be here to dry your tears.”

You lift your head, looking up at him fully. “Do you really mean that?”

Your voice was timid and your cheeks flushed softly, and you watched as the corner of his mouth had quirked up as he nodded. You smile, pressing your lips on his in a soft kiss. One that deepened while still remaining gentle and tender and all consuming in love. One full of soft brushes against the other’s lips, small smiles when your breath tickles the other’s skin, where noses bump and nudge affectionately.

He pulls away reluctantly, kissing you twice more before looking at you, sincerity painted across his expression as his smile widens and more so upon the reappearance of your own. In a matter of moments he lifts his hand, leaving you to raise your brow in curiosity though you knew just what he was up to. You always knew.

“What?” You ask anyway, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

“Would you care to offer me this dance?”

You bite your cheek to hide your smile at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, at the sheer amount of love held in a mere gaze. Love for you and all your clumsy mistakes. For your ups and downs. He offered you a dance, something he knew that never failed to set your mind at ease so long as it was just the two of you. With little thought and not a drop of hesitancy you take his hand, allowing him to pull you closer as your laughter follows at the sudden action.

He lifted you and spun once, your squeal eliciting the most delightful of laughs from the both of you as he brought you back down to the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a flurry of kisses to his cheek before he too did the same.

“I must say, I believe this is the best dancing you have done all night,” he says, your playful glare having him tipping his head back to laugh. Soon he lifts your hand and twirls you, pulling you back to his chest and you collide with another fit of giggles. This was certainly not of proper dancing etiquette by any means, not even a little bit, but it was a dancing belonging entirely to the two of you.

You rest your hands on his chest, his heart bounding beneath your fingertips before you hug around his neck once more. Ruffled curls of brown had fallen over his forehead, nearly dipping over his deep blue stare as he gazed at you.

“I love you,” you say, swaying softly about the room as your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Tremendously, I love you.”

The dimples in his smile return as he kisses from your cheek to your jaw, from your jaw to your neck, to the corner of your mouth and most lovingly to your lips. “And I love you more. Tremendously, I love you more.”

The day might have been terribly disastrous from the start, but now, you had a sweeter ending.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @elennox03

[nishisun]

suna rintaro is NOT a genius. (2)

part 1

summary: you loved the idea of soulmates. suna rintaro didn’t. it isn’t that hard to put two and two together to realize that maybe people with different opinions on things don’t belong together.

Summer 2021

[recording. patient: suna rintaro | session: 1]

[dr. natamoto] hello, rintaro-kun. how are you feeling this afternoon?

[suna rintaro] conflicted.

[dr. natamoto] ah. thank you for your honesty. so, what brings you here today?

[suna rintaro] team- ahem, my teammates.

[dr. natamoto] very well. (shuffles through notes) so, one of your teammates, miya-san, called me a little over a week ago and we discussed about your well-being.

[suna rintaro] ...i’m aware.

[dr. natamoto] do you have a specfic reason as to why you agreed to see a therapist?

[suna rintaro] i’ve.. been feeling down lately. I guess people noticed it, so i wanted to seek help.

[dr. natamoto] okay, (shuffles through notes) from my notes here, it seems that you’ve been feeling this way for a while. how long have you been feeling down altogether?

[suna rintaro] … a few months now. It’s gotten pretty bad these past few weeks. Alcohol has been my only escape. that’s kind of why i came.

[dr. natamoto] i see. Tell me, how often do you drink alcohol?

[suna rintaro] almost every day. i’ve been trying to reduce my alcohol intake because it affects the way i practice.

[dr. natamoto] i see. rintaro-kun, how would you describe yourself in one word?

[suna rintaro] (chuckles) irritable.

[dr natamoto] why did you pick “irritable”?

[suna rintaro] people say i’m an asshole, at least i’m aware. i know i get angry and annoyed easily, i’m not blind to my own actions.

[dr. natamoto] thank you for the explanation. so, miya-san also mentioned how you’ve been suspended from the black jackals team due to your behaviour recently.

[suna rintaro] (scoffs) if i knew that this place would make me feel shittier than i already do, i would’ve never agreed to come here.

[dr. natamoto] (chuckles) right, my apologies. (shuffles papers) so, growing up, miya-san mentioned that you lived in a destructive household? how so?

[suna rintaro] … (sighs) fuck. this is harder than i thought.

[dr. natamoto] take your time, please.

[suna rintaro] my parents didn't have the healthiest relationship with one another. my dad was an alcoholic and was abusive- still is i’m pretty sure. when he found out my mom was cheating on him he lost it i guess. (long pause) i don’t want to talk about my childhood that much.

[dr natamoto] i completely understand. last week, your father was taken into custody by the police, and you will have to speak at court, is that right?

[suna rintaro] ... yes.

[dr. natamoto] so, i’m guessing that ever since you heard the news, is when you’ve been feeling more down than usual?

[suna rintaro] yeah.

[dr. natamoto] tell me, rintaro-kun. at that specific moment, when you heard the news, what did you feel at first?

[suna rintaro] i don’t know, numb. i didn’t feel anything at first to be honest. It’s just been hard to be motivated to do things recently.

[dr. natamoto] okay, so you’ve been feeling numb, and haven’t gotten any motivation recently.

[suna rintaro] yeah.

[dr. natamoto] have you.. by any chance talked to someone about this?

[suna rintaro] (chuckles) i tried.

[dr. natamoto] and how did that go?

[suna rintaro] shitty.

[dr. natamoto] so sorry to hear that. who was this person you talked about it to?

[suna rintaro] someone really important to me, her name’s y/n—i fucked things up, again.

[dr. natamoto] how so?

[suna rintaro] she was concerend about my recent behaviour as well, i lashed out on her and said some hurtful shit that i didn't even mean. now she hates my guts, again.

[dr. natamoto] again? Explain.

[suna rintaro] i’ve known her since we were kids. our parents were childhood friends and we lived next door to each other our whole lives. we were never really close to one another, but we still talked every now and then.

[suna rintaro] i was into her in senior year of high school, though.that’s when we started getting closer. she acted like she didn’t want me but most girls act like that at first. they want you to chase after them, and i sure did even if i acted like a dick to her. it was worth it though.

[dr.natamoto] ... you must know a lot about girls.

[suna rintaro] sure do.

[suna rintaro] at her sister’s wedding a few years ago, i did some fucked up shit. She managed to give me another chance after meeting kimi and i fucked that up too. all i’ve ever done was hurt her. i keep coming back in her life and i bring her nothing but stress.

[suna rintaro] i want to be better—i really want to, but it feels like a never ending cycle. i just want to do something about it.

[dr. natamoto] well rintaro-kun, i am very glad that you’re willing to be better.

[suna rintaro] thank you. i needed that.

[dr. natamoto] anytime. now, why do you think you keep hurting her?

[suna rintaro] like i said, it’s ‘cause i’m a heartless asshole.

[dr. natamoto] what makes you think this way?

[suna rintaro] because all i do is hurt people.

[dr. natamoto] if you were heartless like you claim to be, you wouldn’t be seeking help to better yourself for you and your family. you’re far from heartless.

[suna rintaro] ... i guess you’re right.

[dr. natamoto] okay, (opens ipad) what do you see in this picture?

[suna rintaro] a baby.

[dr. natamoto] correct. now, what is the first thing you think about when you hear the word “baby”?

[suna rintaro] if i’m being honest? kimi.

[dr. natamoto] (laughs) makes sense. did you have any negative thoughts when you saw this picture?

[suna rintaro] no… not really.

[dr. natamoto] okay.. how come?

[suna rintaro] … what?

[dr. natamoto] how come you didn’t experience any negative thoughts when you viewed this picture?

[suna rintaro] … i don't know?

[dr. natamoto] so if i told you that i wanted to hurt this baby, how would that make you feel?

[suna rintaro] the hell?

[suna rintaro] concerned for you.. i guess. but why would you want to hurt a baby? Only a heartless asshole would do that.

[suna rintaro] … oh.

[dr. natamoto] exactly!

[suna rintaro] what’s the point?

[dr. natamoto] (shuffles through notes) you said “all i do is hurt people” a few minutes ago, but that isn’t the case rintaro-kun.

[suna rintaro] …

[dr. natamoto] i think that you claim to “hurt people” because you’re afraid of opening up, especially to y/n; you’re afraid to show vulnerability.

[dr. natamoto] when you said you lashed out on her when she was concerned about your behaviour. Is it maybe because you’re afraid that she’ll judge you for this?

[suna rintaro] no, she would never judge me. i know her.

[dr. natamoto] i thought you’d say that. so from everything i’ve heard, the only other reason i can think of is that you’re afraid of y/n and kimi getting attached to you, because you’re afraid that you’ll hurt her— them, again. am i correct?

[suna rintaro] ...

[suna rintaro] fuck. uh, yeah, you’re right. Shit.

[dr. natamoto] why is it that you don’t want them to get close to you?

[suna rintaro] .. they.. deserve better. i can’t give them both the happiness they deserve.

[dr. natamoto] and why exactly is that?

[suna rintaro] why is what?

[dr. natamoto] why do you think you can’t give them the happiness they deserve?

[suna rintaro] because everytime i’ve came back into y/n’s life, it was always me that screwed shit up. She’s been generous enough to forgive me everytime. i don't deserve all the chances she’s given me.

[dr. natamoto] rintaro-kun, do you want to hear my input on this situation?

[suna rintaro] well, obviously, you’re the therapist.

[dr.natamoto] here’s what i want you to do; i want you to talk to y/n, even if she “hates” you, which i’m pretty sure she doesn’t.

[suna rintaro] how do you know she doesn’t hate me?

[dr. natamoto] she wouldn’t be giving you so many chances. Don’t you think, rintaro-kun?

[dr. natamoto] i think the reason she keeps giving you chances is because she wants you to know that she’s hoping you’ll change for your good. she’s willing to stick with you through your ups and downs. and i don’t want to speak for her, but it seems like she’s in love with you.

[dr natamoto] may i ask, what exactly did you say to her the last time you’ve seen each other?

[suna rintaro] i… i told her to stop worrying about me.. and told her i wanted her out my life.

[dr. natamoto] did you mean that?

[suna rintaro] of course not. i’m a mess without her. i don't know why i said that.

[dr. natamoto] what caused you to say this to her in the first place?

[suna rintaro] i don't know, i guess i was already having a rough day and i wanted to be alone but she wouldn’t—she kept asking me what was bothering me. I’m a dick.

[dr. natamoto] it’s completely okay to want some alone time. Instead of lashing out, you can use a method called “I sentences”. It’s basically when you express the way you’re feeling, using “I” to start the conversation. for example, “I feel”. after you express how you’re feeling, follow it up with “I would like it if you’d please…” Try it.

[suna rintaro] okay…

[suna rintaro] i feel irritated right now and i don’t want to put it out on you. im grateful that you care for me so much, but I would just like it if you’d please give me some time alone for a while.

[dr. natamoto] perfect! since we’re running out of time, i want you to write down all the things you’re grateful for at the end of each day, just to end the night on a positive note. after doing this for a week, i want you to talk to y/n. If the conversation gets too heated, try to slow yourself down by using the “I” sentences. I know it may sound inconvenient at first, but trust me, they work. i want to see you in the next two weeks is that fine?

[suna rintaro] right, thanks doc.

[dr. natamoto] anytime! Have a wonderful day, rintaro-kun.

—welp this is the second part and unfortunately i never wrote a third part because this was just an old series that i gave up on a while ago. i hope you enjoyed it! i’m sorry i didn’t write anymore parts:( i’m just trying to empty up old things in my drafts

[pips-fics]

ask by @writercirrus / @sickiecirrus (be sure to check out her fantastic writing!) : Hi!! My favorite fic is the one where Han gets sick and calls Channie who runs over and helps him. Idk why but I keep rereading. Your stories are always well written!! I’ve never been like LET ME EDIT THIS PLZZZ like I do with most other fanfics!! I do have a request... Channie gets the stomach flu and doesn’t want to be babied or fussed over but finally gives in and lets his members take care of him (idk why but I feel like Channie would be like that)

big thanks to madeline once again for the lovely title! <3 and thank you to cirrus for the kind words and their request, it was a lot of fun to write :D

tw: vomiting, insomnia, overworking

take a rest, hyung –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“you are not allowed to leave your bed today.” minho had taken one look at chan and decided to lay down the law. behind him, felix cackled.

“chan stay in bed challenge!”

chan groaned. that was the thing about these two: he couldn’t say no to either of them. felix because saying no to him felt like bullying a small child; minho because he already knew chan disagreed and clearly did not care. chan tried anyway.

“i’m fine. you’re both just overreacting.”

jisung poked his head through the doorway, looking skeptical. “who’s overreacting?”

hope blossomed in chan’s chest. jisung would understand. “sungie! i just want to work on that one b-side, just for a bit. non strenuous activity, y’know?”

“oh,” jisung said, giving chan a quick once-over. “no.”

“what?”

“yeah, hyung, you look like you’re going to pass out. don’t move.”

it took all of chan’s willpower not to throw something in a fit of rage when jisung came over to check his temperature with the back of his hand. or it would have, except chan did feel slightly like he might pass out, actually. jisung whistled, and chan pretended like his head didn’t feel like it was splitting down the middle.

“he’s pretty warm,” jisung said to minho, who nodded as if he already knew that.

“well he’s been working non-stop recently and hardly sleeping,” hyunjin said from the doorway, quickly catching on to the situation. he took about three strides and crossed the room to press a glass of cool water to chan’s lips. chan sputtered.

“what is wrong with you all? i’m not dying, i can take care of myself.”

hyunjin looked at him skeptically. “you literally can’t, that’s the point i just made.”

rather than respond to that, chan got up and pushed his way through the small crowd that had begun to encircle him. he walked to the kitchen and then, without preamble, vomited into the sink.

after three quick, powerful, and unpleasant expulsion of his stomach contents, chan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and turned to see seungmin starring at him, open mouthed. across the room, jeongin choked on the water he’d been drinking. chan frowned.

“what? i feel better now,” he explained. seungmin’s mouth snapped shut, then opened again.

“what. the fuck.”

chan soon found himself being marched back to his bedroom by the two youngest members of stray kids.

he wasn’t stupid. chan understood that the other boys cared about him, and that they were just trying to help. he knew it would make them feel better, so he resigned himself to allowing their fussing - just temporarily.

chan would admit that the cool towels jisung kept putting on his forehead felt nice, and it was very sweet that the boys ensured someone was with him at all times - to prevent boredom, seungmin said. but then, that was the problem - chan wouldn’t be bored if they would just let him work, but as soon as he took his laptop out, minho confiscated it.

“this is so unfair,” chan complained. minho just smirked at him, seeming to take great pleasure in chan’s annoyance.

“you can thank me later.”

chan grumbled under his breath, but thought smugly that the joke was on minho, in the end. chan had his phone hidden under the covers, so he could work on writing lyrics using that. heck, he could even plug in his AirPods an work on producing with a mobile app, if he really wanted to. chan smiled slightly, feeling clever, and then sprinted to the bathroom.

despite minho’s annoying tough love, there was something soothing about having someone there to brush chan’s sweaty bangs away from his forehead as he emptied his stomach. this time the nausea didn’t pass quite a quickly, or as completely - even after a ten minute camp out filled with productive heaving, chan still felt woozy, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. he hid them in his hoodie pockets as minho guided him back to the bedroom.

things were quieter after that. most of the younger guys were at the studio practicing the dance moves for their upcoming music video, and changbin, who chan hadn’t seen all day, was probably cooped up with jisung trying to pick up the slack from chan’s day off. chan was genuinely exhausted and was tempted to actually rest, but sleep didn’t come easily with guilt hanging over him. no matter how much he told himself it was better in the long run, the knowledge that someone had to do whatever he didn’t have time for was eating chan up inside.

so, after trying and failing to sleep for about ten minutes, chan slid under the covers and got to work on his phone. he tried to be kind to himself, but he wasn’t making much progress even while he was working on stuff.

when changbin barged in and suddenly threw chan’s covers off to snatch his phone out of his hands, chan was less than pleased.

“changbin! what the fuck!”

“hyung, you’re supposed to be sleeping!” changbin said, annoyance lining his voice.

“what, did jisung tell you that?” chan felt angry tears spring to his eyes and quickly wiped them away, but he saw changbin soften.

“of course he did,” changbin said. “he’s so worried about you that he can’t get a single thing done, hyung. so please, just rest? at least let your eyes take a break from your screens?”

in the corner of the room, minho checked his watch - or the place on his wrist where the would’ve been a watch, if he’d owned one. “welp, looks like my shift is up. changbin, babysitting duty is all yours.”

changbin frowned, but took minho’s place silently. chan refused to meet his eyes.

“hyung?”

“just leave me alone, changbin, please.”

it wasn’t anger, but it came off that way. it was shame.

the thought that chan had thrown jisung off, too, and now changbin was here taking care of him - chan hated it. they were all going to get in trouble for slacking at this rate, and it was chan’s fault about three times over. truthfully, chan felt like crying, but that would only make things worse, so instead he pulled out out a notebook. on accident, he met changbin’s disapproving gaze. chan’s voice came out sounding very small.

“bin, please.”

arms crossed, changbin breathed a sigh through his nose. he didn’t say anything, but his eyes slid away from chan and he clear didn’t intend to stop him.

the guilt settled heavier than ever in chan’s already upset stomach, but he hoped making some progress on work would help him feel better. unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. with every minute that passed, chan felt worse. he jotted down some notes, just vague ideas but most of his energy was being expended just trying to keep his stomach contents in place. by the time he admitted to himself that he was fighting a losing battle, chan could hardly move without risking making a mess.

he set his notes aside, and put a trembling hand over his mouth. his attempt to get changbin’s attention was cut off before he could even say “bin,” and it was all chan could do to swallow the sick in his throat back down. he wasn’t entirely successful, but thankfully, changbin had sprung up and handed chan the plastic bowl minho had left by his bedside.

things still weren’t pretty. chan had held the sick in for so long that once he stopped fighting it, it spewed forth with so much force that it splattered the bed - and chan’s notes. changbin scrambled to save them, but chan waved him off.

“throw them out,” he said dejectedly, right before coughing himself into another vomiting spell. at this point, chan was beyond exhausted, and the room wouldn’t stop spinning before his eyes. when he squeezed them shut, he felt even sicker and retched hollowly until changbin forced him to drink some water that chan threw up again almost immediately. chills ran through him so viciously that chan worried he might lose his grip on the bowl, and was relieved when someone else’s hands appeared to keep it steady.

by the time he was done, chan wanted absolutely nothing more than a hug. when he looked up with tears in his eyes, chan found that jeongin was the one holding the bowl and froze.

“are you all back?” it was one thing, he thought, to inconvenience changbin alone - he and changbin had been through thick and thin together, and despite chan’s guilt, he knew changbin would brush this off soon enough. he wasn’t as sure about the other members of his team. “are you okay?” chan asked, on second thought.

jeongin scoffed. “hyung, can you please stop worrying about the rest of us for one second and worry about yourself? or better yet, just let us do the worrying for you, for once.”

chan sniffled, and felt tears prick his eyes. his boys had really matured. the realization took the breath out of him for a second, and the tension went with it. he flopped back onto his pillows and nodded.

“yeah, alright, innie, i’ll give it a go.”

after that, it was a flurry of activity. tasks, apparently, had been delegated by seungmin, so changbin cleaned out the bucket, hyunjin grabbed more water, minho put the blankets in the wash, jisung brought new blankets, jeongin cleaned chan up - and felix was on immediate snuggle duty. as the others finished their tasks, they joined, one by one, until the bed was a pile of the people chan treasured most.

in the end, it was easier than he’d thought, falling asleep surrounded by love.

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a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to make me smile and celebrate hyunjin <3

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feel free to send more asks! / rules