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[vigilante-3073]

SABRINA CARPENTER Coachella weekend two + looks

[vigilante-3073]

[vigilante-3073]

having a secret relationship with j cody would include.

about. being involved with a super close family makes it hard to have any secrets, but fortunately, you and j are still in the clear.

warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, gif not mine, they’re not related in any way in this fic

put a pin in this: um i have a major crush on finn cole

he was quite quiet when you first met him. very polite and kept to himself when he felt nobody needed his attention and when he got comfortable enough- he eventually would disappear for certain amounts of times to his girlfriends house

you were jealous because whoever she was, she knew more about him than all of you combined and he probably talked to her more than he did at his new home

you felt a small amount of jealousy when you first discovered this through smurf and even more after you bumped into her while she was trying to sneak out and you were trying to sneak back in

she was pretty and it made something in your chest tighten but you still grinned silently, shaking your head as you watched her smile sheepishly at you with her shoes in hand and one of j’s shirts swallowing her whole

nicky.

eventually, his relationship with her ended after another heist was planned and begun to unfold before all of you and you could finally breathe again

after all your pockets were stuffed with money and the pressure of not getting arrested was relieved from your shoulders, time was made for you and j to get to know each other

he was sweet and smart (not that you couldn’t already tell) and held himself high but you could tell a lot was wearing him down by the way his eyes seemed sunken

he reminded you of a kicked puppy dog.

one drunken night by the pool where the moon was high in the sky and your head was leaned against his knee while he sat in a lounge chair, his lips ended up on yours after heated hesitation and eyes flickering between your own and your lips

your hand cupped his face as he was leaned down and close to you from his sitting position before he pulled away slowly, his face unreadable (like always)

no words were shared

the night ended fast after that with a silent kiss on your forehead and his thumb gliding against your cheekbone

but the days that followed carried no affection but only stolen looks and glances of nervousness dilating his eyes

you dreaded those days, feeling lonely and deprived of something

it wasn’t until the two of you stumbled across each other in the hall a week later around midnight did you finally press skin against skin

he was eager, almost as if he felt just as lonely as you did

his lips pressed against yours before quickly reaching your neck, sucking and biting, causing your knees to go weak before he finally rushed the two of you into his room

from there on, the two of you fell into secret touches, kisses, and all things affectionate

the two of you always sat by each other at dinner, legs pressed against one another and almost always he’d give your thigh a squeeze

and if not by each other, across from one another where you’d teasingly run your leg up against his in some form of seduction

he’d glare at you

when the house was fully empty (which was often times rare) the two of you always shared the best moments full of holding one another, cooking, and if the two of you were lucky enough, and the house was empty when it got dark, the two of you went skinny dipping in the pool

but there were too many times where the two of you almost got caught

you don’t know how many times craig or deran walked in on the two of you, but if it wasn’t for j’s quick reflexes and pushing you off the bed, you’d probably be exposed

quickies in the shower

sometimes sweet whispers in your ear and sometimes naughty ones that made your cheeks burn

in the earlier days, when the two of you were still in high school, the two of you would study together and sometimes even ditch class

he’s kinda obsessed with you and since the two of you are on the DL, that means boys still openly flirt with you and he gets jealous easily

vice versa when girls come on to him but when you get jealous, he thinks it’s cute and pinches your cheeks

quick kisses

inside jokes

craig, deran, pope, and baz, notice a change in you and finding it off putting

“why are you always so happy all of a sudden,” craig would look at you weirdly with a arched brow and frown. “it’s fucking weird.”

“yeah, y/n/n,” deran would replicate the same look, “you on some drugs now or some shit?”

j laughs about it quietly to himself

“you enjoy my company a little more than you let on, sweetheart?”

[vigilante-3073]

Honeymoon (Walter DeVille | The Invitation)

Summary — It’s your first night as Walt’s new wife.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Potential spoilers for The Invitation; literally just pure fucking smut because I’m a slut for this man; mentions of vampirism (including smoking hot Thomas Doherty fangs, biting, blood, etc.); themes of ‘Predator vs Prey’; cursing; far too much usage of ‘my love’; Evie is stronger than me because I would have agreed to be Walter’s wife in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 4,333. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). 

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule

Your beloved had always had some… animalistic tendencies. 

It was rather obvious to everyone that you were Walt’s favorite bride. Or, now that you were finally married, his favorite wife.

His sharp gaze had been watching you all evening. He was similar to a predator admiring a fresh kill. Despite being surrounded by an endless number of wedding guests, Walt had no intention of taking his attention away from you.

As you thanked Lucy and Viktoria for their compliments and well-wishes, a shiver traveled along your spine as Walt’s clawed fingers slowly ran along your arm. You could sense his satisfied grin when he noticed the effect he had on you.

Walt was getting restless with the desire to take you away from your demanding audience. Bringing your hand to him, he pressed your palm against his cheek before leaning into your touch. You were trying your best to keep up your conversation with your two beautiful friends, ignoring his desperate call for attention.

His lips pressed gently kisses to each of your fingertips before moving on to your palm. Continuing his affection, his kisses trailed along to the back of your hand as well. He dragged his claws up and down your arm as your hand was returned to his cheek, burrowing his nose against your flesh.

His gaze fluttered back to you. He rolled his eyes when you refused to look at him. You were always doing this sort of thing, always letting him know that he couldn’t have everything.

He was fine with your antics. It thrilled him to no end whenever he had to chase after your attention. It gave him time to worship you.

The hand that had been dragging along your arm paused on your wrist. The other splayed out your palm against his face. If sweet, doting admiration wouldn’t catch your attention, perhaps a little pain would.

You yelped as your husband tore a wound into your wrist. Lucy’s eyes widened while Viktoria could only smirk in sick amusement. Turning your attention to him, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

With his fangs buried deep within your flesh, his hooded gaze stared back at you with a certain glimmer of arrogance. You could practically hear his thoughts as he indulged himself on your metallic nectar. 

Have I gotten your attention yet, my love?

You scoffed with an amused smile, shaking your head at Walt’s desperation. He closed his eyes as he continued tasting you. He roughly shoved your wrist closer to him with a tight grip.

“I think our husband wishes to leave his own reception,” smirked Viktoria, staring intently as Walt slowly pulled away.

With a wink and a knowing smile, Lucy whispered, “Have fun!”

You bid the two women farewell, watching as they disappeared into the crowd of guests. Once they were gone, your eyes drifted back to your husband.

Walt was solely focused on your wrist. His fangs had finally left your flesh. Now, his tongue ran along your skin, greedily claiming any blood he may have left behind. He glared fiercely when you attempted to pull your hand away. His grip tightened and his claws threatened to pierce your skin.

You slowly began to lean towards him. His eyes darkened and he immediately tugged at your arm to pull you closer. He made an advance towards your neck, groaning loudly when you forced him to pause in his movements. 

He had been just shy of his goal. He cursed under his breath, stretching as far as he could, practically leaning over your entire body, in an attempt to reach you. You let out a quiet laugh as his sharp fangs barely grazed against your flesh. He complained once more when you finally gained enough strength to shove him away.

You ran your fingers through his dark hair in an attempt to sooth him. His eyes trailed over your figure with dark intent. He bit his lip harshly as he took you in. You looked ravishing. He met you in the middle for a soft kiss.

Placing his hand on the back of your neck, he muttered against your lips, “My love—”

“Later,” you quietly interrupted.

He groaned, hooded eyes still wandering, “Now.”

“We can’t leave yet—”

“Then perhaps I should just take you here,” he whispered, and then he grinned mischievously as a surprised gasp escaped you. “Oh? Do you like that idea? Do you wish to be fucked in front of everyone like some common whore?”

Your eyes narrowed while his smile only widened. He winked at you and flashed his fangs in an attempt to get your annoyed façade to break. All he received in return, however, was an unamused scoff, “I want a divorce.”

He chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before he muttered, “Not. Happening.”

You smiled when he brought your wrist to his lips once more. He repeatedly pressed kisses against the area where he had bitten you, effortlessly soothing your wounded skin.

“Do you really want to leave?”

He pretended to pout, though his true feelings were given away by his excited eyes, “Please?”

You sighed dramatically, which he knew meant ‘yes’ since you allowed another smile to spread across your lips. He quickly stood, gained the attention of the guests, and announced that the two of you would be retiring for the evening while Lucy and Viktoria took over as hosts.

‘Retiring’, you thought. Yeah, right.

Walt held out his arm for you to take before slowly leading you through the crowd. You smiled at those who offered another round of congratulations, feeling excitement build within you as Walt led you through the manor gardens.

His grip on you tightened. Plucking a rose, his lips pressed against yours before he placed the flower in your free hand.

Inside, the manor was dark, which was normal. Your husband preferred it so, claiming that it ‘improved the hunt’. Everyone, including the staff, were outside, leaving you alone with your eager husband. 

The two of you paused in front of the grand, stone staircase. Walt circled you slowly, eyeing you up and down with darkened eyes. His pupils were blown wide. He came to a stop behind you.

His overwhelming presence sent shivers throughout your entire being. You were sure he could hear your heart pounding furiously.

His claws traced along your figure. The feeling began at your shoulders, trailed down your arms, and then finally came to a stop at your hips.

Your eyes closed. You tilted your head, allowing him access to the soft skin of your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from relishing in the feeling of your husband leaning in to trace his nose along your profile. Occasionally, he’d paused to leave a kiss or two, fangs threatening to pierce you once more.

He sighed against you, digging his sharp claws into your sides, nearly breaking the skin of your hips through your clothing. His teeth ran over your ear before he paused to whisper, “Shall we play a game, my love?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure of where he was going with such a question, “What sort of game?”

He chuckled deeply, “One of predator… and prey.”

You inhaled sharply as one of his hands slowly traveled along the length of your torso. His large palm found its new home upon your throat.

“Do you know what a predator does when it captures its prey?”

“What?”

He kissed your temple gently between each of his words, “Whatever. It. Wants.”

You shuddered at his response. Slowly, his tight hold loosened. The sound of a ticking clock echoed throughout the room. His lips hovered closely over your ear. Your heart felt as though it planned to leap out of your chest.

“Run.”

You bolted, using the stone edge of the staircase to help you along. You could feel his eyes burning into you, carefully watching as you disappeared around a dark corner.

To anyone else, this would probably seem twisted. To you, however, it was exhilarating and left you quietly gasping for air with a wild grin on your face. You wandered further into the manor, deciding to leave your clicking shoes behind in an effort to throw him off.

With every shadow in the corner of your eye or each creak of the floor, you’d feel your heart race. Hand clasped over your chest, you paused at the sound of slow footsteps. You could see the light of a match approaching from the other end of the corridor. Quickly pressing yourself into a dark corner, you held your breath as he began to close in on you…

No.

No. He passed you by.

You shivered at the sight of him. He had stripped himself of his jacket and tie. His left hand was hidden within his pocket while the other held a flickering match between his fingertips. Slow, easy footsteps, almost as though he knew you had no chance.

Peeking around the corner, you watched the muscles of his back shift beneath his white shirt. You grimaced as you tripped over your feet due to the distraction, tumbling clumsily to the floor.

Walt paused. You could almost see the widening grin on his face as he contemplated your mistake. Slowly, he turned, tilted his head, and allowed his eyes to wander over your fallen figure.

He barely had time to flash his fangs at you. In seconds, you had stood and took off in the opposite direction. His sinister chuckles echoed off the walls as he quickly followed.

You rounded yet another corner and reached out for the first doorknob in sight. Closing the door, you pushed your way into the room. His room.

Of course.

His shoes tapped against the floors in the corridor, taking you out of your realization. Just as the doorknob began to rattle, you opened up his wardrobe in the corner and hid away inside.

The door shut once more. The action was then followed by the click of the lock, trapping you within the four dark walls with no one but your husband for company. Perhaps, if he was far away enough, you could make another escape.

He approached his bedside table. Knowing you had little chance of getting away, he took his time removing his watch before sliding off his shoes as well. His back was turned to you.

You tried your best to be quiet as you eased the wardrobe door open. Luck seemed to be on your side when it made little noise. The lock that had trapped you inside, however, gave you away. 

The rustling of his movements stopped when he heard the click of his bedroom door. You pulled at the door to no avail. It was shoved closed once more by the force of his splayed hand. His other was tightly wrapped around your chest and shoulders, roughly pulling you against him.

He slowly turned the lock back into place. He then allowed that hand to wrap around your waist, though it felt eager to venture elsewhere.

Fangs tracing over your skin, he ran his lips from your neck to your ear before he whispered, “Caught you.”

Your head fell back against him in surprise. You couldn’t contain the sharp, startled gasp that escaped you. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his fangs sinking into your neck. Your mouth fell open in pleasure as he ravaged your soft skin.

One of his hands traveled along your body until it found itself roughly cupping your jawline. His claws nearly impaled themselves into your flesh due to his tight grip. Walt held you in place against him as he enjoyed the perfect, bittersweet taste of your blood.

You were tugged back into his dark embrace, falling further into the deep shadows of his room. He turned, shoving you onto his bed with a sinister glimmer in his eyes.

You smiled up at him, shaking your head as you balanced on one of your arms. Your free hand reached out for him, but he pushed it away with a wild grin.

His lustful eyes raked over your clothed figure. Leaning forward, he crawled upwards along the length of your body, easily making you lie on your back as he hovered above you.

His thumbs traced slow circles on your cheeks and temples. Though they still contained that same dark intent, his eyes softened slightly when they met your gaze.

He leaned into your touch as you began running your hands through his thick hair. He pressed a soft kiss to your wrist, and then quietly muttered against your skin, “May I have you?” 

His eyes closed at the feeling of your thumbs gently tracing over his eyebrows. You then did the same beneath his eyes, examining every feature of him as he waited for your reply.

“Yes.”

His hand was beneath your chin in a matter of seconds. You encased his wrist tightly in one of your palms. He pushed your head back, digging his immortal bite into your neck once more. His weight was pressed against you, which allowed you to feel every crevice of his strong body. 

You could feel blood cascading along your skin as he shifted his position. He lifted you just enough to move each of you further onto the bed. You reached back with one hand to tightly grip a soft pillow. The other wrapped itself within Walt’s hair as he traveled downwards.

You were forced to release him when he decided to kneel between your legs. He smirked down at you. Your body trembled as his tall, shadowy figure overwhelmed you. 

Walt was thankful that you had chosen a different dress for the reception. The fabric draped perfectly over your body. He could feel you beneath the dark ensemble as his hands traced along your figure. 

You watched in anticipation as his head turned to eye your ankle. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around it. You raised your eyebrows at him, though he paid you no mind as he lifted your leg until your ankle could rest against his shoulder.

Before you could react, your grip on the pillow had tightened exponentially. The other wrapped itself within the sheet. Your back arched at the feeling of his fangs sinking into the flesh of your ankle.

He groaned loudly. Wrapping his free arm around your thigh, completely encasing your limb, he forced you against him as he tightly closed his eyes. He couldn’t get enough of you. Fortunately for him, the night was only beginning.

He allowed your ankle to fall back onto the bed, swallowing deeply and running his tongue over his stained lips. He quickly shoved his hands beneath your dress, pushing the fabric upwards until he could tug it over your head. 

His lips met yours in a rough kiss. As you embraced him, he used his clawed fingertips to rip open the bra that covered your breasts. He wasted no time, immediately indulging himself.

As his hand busied itself with your left breast, thumb working against your nipple, his mouth found refuge on the right. He repeatedly kissed your warm flesh. Quickly, he decided to latch onto you with his mouth, tongue swirling.

His dark hair found itself within your grip once more. You bit your lip harshly at the pleasurable feeling, unable to think properly.

But things only felt better when you realized his free hand had slowly wandered downwards. His long fingers shoved their way beneath the lace fabric that shielded your heat. He cupped your warmth, grinning against you.

“Did you wear these for me?” he muttered, not waiting for an answer as he began making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin.

“For Viktoria.”

He paused in his affection to glare up at you. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate your fine sense of humor. With an amused grin, you sharply tugged at his hair, causing him to grunt, and then continued, “Get to work, Mr. DeVille.”

He slowly shook his head, quietly scoffing at your antics. Both of his hands drifted to your hips and wrapped around the edge of the black lace. Running his tongue over his sharp teeth, he smirked, “As my mistress commands.”

Your laughter was cut off by a gasp rising in your throat. Walt turned his head from side to side, repeatedly biting along each of your thighs until he finally made his way to your center.

Over the lace fabric, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against your warmth. You tugged his hair again at the feeling. Heat pooled within you as he slowly pulled away the lace. Grinning, he tossed it aside.

He swallowed deeply before delving into you. You cried out, fingers digging into his scalp. Walt paid your actions no mind. His tongue rushed across your opening, flicking your clit.

His claws dug into your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders to keep you still. It wasn’t an easy feat. Your back was arched and your mouth had fallen into a silent scream.

Walt shoved his tongue into you, feasting on your essence as though it were his last meal. His thumb joined his mouth in a perfect duet of pleasure. He roughly slapped your clit and smiled against you when another cry escaped your throat.

His pants felt tight and he moved his hips against the bed in an effort to gain some relief. Trailing kisses along your torso, he pushed his fingers in and out of you at lightning speed. He stroked one of your thighs, finally lowering your legs with your knees bent as they rested on either side of his hips, encasing him against you.

He pressed his forehead to yours, but refused to kiss you despite your pleas. Instead, he watched as your face collapsed into an expression of sinful pleasure.

Your orgasm drenched his hand and he pulled his fingers out of you. You slowly opened your eyes, watching as he held his wet fingers to your lips.

“So soon? You really should clean up your mess, my love.”

He leaned in, returning his attention to your neck, biting a new wound into your flesh. The action made you gasp openly, which, in turn, allowed him to shove his soaked fingers into your mouth.

He pressed his lips against your temple, smearing fresh blood against your soft skin. He rolled his hips into you, biting his lip as he felt your tongue swirl around his fingertips, tasting yourself on him.

He groaned at the sight of you. Your bare skin was aglow beneath him. He could feel himself straining against his clothes. He focused his attention on your shoulder, sinking his teeth into you once more. You knew you’d be absolutely covered in bite marks by the time this was over.

Not that you minded, of course.

As he lost himself in you, he used his hands to bring yours to his shirt, letting you know that he wanted you to rid him of the fabric. You busied yourself with the buttons, turning your head to plant kisses against his profile.

Sensing your desires, he reluctantly pulled his attention away from your shoulder. He soothed your newest wound with his tongue, lapping at any leftover blood. His stained lips met yours just as you began pushing the white fabric off his shoulders. Walt helped with the process and tossed the shirt aside.

He rose to his knees, removing his belt. His pants quickly followed, but not without incident. You grunted when he tumbled on top of you, barely catching himself to keep from knocking the wind out of you.

“Why did you make me wear these?” he grumbled, though his grin gave his amusement away.

You giggled, trying your best to help him, “Because they looked nice.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile when you gently kissed his cheek. He then pushed himself off your body. You shifted onto your elbows, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed. Once the pants reached his ankles, he yanked them off, threw them across the room, and then grinned at you over his shoulder.

You scoffed with a teasing smile, “You’re so dramatic!” 

He chuckled, “C’mere.”

You allowed him to tug at your hand. You moved on the bed to kneel behind him. He tightly clasped both of your hands and draped them over his chest, but not before pressing a kiss to each one. 

He then reached and tugged at the top of his briefs. You repeatedly kissed the top of his head and temples, watching intently as the fabric disappeared from his body and joined his shirt on the floor. 

He turned his head to meet your lips. His hand tightly gripped your wrist and dragged your palm downwards along his chest.

His brows furrowed. He broke your kiss with a groan, breathing heavily against you. He trembled at the feeling of your nimble fingers working the length of his thick cock. He tucked his head into your shoulder, hiding away as moans escaped him.

You pressed your lips against his temple in light kisses. You used your free hand to rake your fingers through his dark hair, gently scratching his scalp as you did so. Through his gasps and grunts of pleasure, Walt placed open-mouthed kisses against your skin. 

You traced your thumb over the head of his member. Beads of pre-cum made themselves known. His cock hardened further beneath your touch, if such a thing was even possible. Each stroke sent shivers along his spine and quiet murmurs tumbled from his lips against your skin.

Gently, he wrapped his hand around yours, stopping your movements. He kissed you deeply, nudging you back into your former position of lying on your back. He crawled up the expanse of your body. His hands ran up and down your sides, occasionally giving you a tight squeeze whenever he caressed your hips.

Returning his passionate affection, your arms draped over his shoulders, allowing your fingertips to trace shapes against his bare, muscular back. He sighed peacefully at the sensation. 

He only broke the kiss to reach down and grab his length. Your gaze followed, hands weaving into his hair once more. He wasted no time in pressing the head of his cock against your slick folds.

Your grip on him tightened and your head fell backwards. He took the opportunity to lean his slack-jawed face against your neck, breathing against you heavily.

He was so big inside you. And no matter how many times you had taken him in the past, his cock always left you stunned at its size. Tugging at your ear with his teeth, he breathed, “So sweet for me.”

“Walt,” you sighed, “please—! Oh!”

His hips dug into you repeatedly and he grunted loudly with each thrust. You could hardly breathe as he pounded into you.

As you tightened your grip on him, pulling him closer by his hair, he sank his sharp fangs into you once more with a quiet apology, “Sorry, my love. Your taste is impossible to resist.”

“It feels good.”

Your murmured response made him groan against you. As he indulged himself on you, his thrusts sped up. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out in pleasure with every hard thrust of his cock.

The sound of skin against skin echoed throughout the room. Walt hissed and growled as your blood flowed into his throat. It was almost as though your taste would be his last meal.

He shoved his arms beneath you and pulled you flush against his bare flesh. Hunched over your body, he moved at an inhuman pace, reminding you of what he truly was.

You placed your hand against his throat. With blood on his lips, he bared his fangs with a grimace. You pulled him into a deep kiss as warmth grew within you.

Eventually, he couldn’t keep up with your affection. He pulled away from the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours. He panted as his thrusts became uneven. Moving one hand to your center, he stroked your clit.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth with a pleasured moan. His pace faltered as his climax drew closer. His skin was glowing with sweat as his hips stuttered.

“Cum with me, my love,” he panted. “Let go.”

As his hand continued its ministrations against your clit, the other quickly wrapped around your throat. You followed his movements, placing your own hands atop his, which was sure to leave your neck bruised the next morning.

“Walt…”

He silenced you with a kiss. You could feel his cock inside you, pulsing and writhing with the need for a release. The thought of him gaining pleasure from you struck a chord within you. 

Your back arched, pressing your front against his. Walt didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he tightened his hold on you and tugged you impossibly close. Your hands shot around his shoulders. One dug into his strong back while the other yanked at his hair as the two of you rocked back and forth against the bedspread.

A wave of pleasure washed over you. Another orgasm overwhelmed your body. Walt’s thrusts stuttered, trying to bring himself to completion. He continued rubbing your bundle of nerves. Your body writhed with overstimulation until he joined you in ecstasy. 

With a final grunt, his hips landed against yours. He shuddered, mouth agape, as he climaxed. His weight all but collapsed on top of you. When he pulled out, you could feel his release venturing out of you.

He collapsed next to you. Both of you struggled for breath. Walt reached out to gently caress your skin. His skin was aglow. Grasping your hand, he kissed each of your fingertips gently.

You could feel tiredness taking over your body. Walt smiled at you with soft eyes. Tugging you close to him, he muttered, “Sleep, my love. I’ll wake you in the morning for more.”

“That wasn’t enough?”

He chuckled deeply, “Never.”

[vigilante-3073]

𝕺𝖑𝖞𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖈 𝖈𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖓

ᶜᵃʳˡⁱˢˡᵉ;ᵉˢᵐᵉ;ʲᵃˢᵖᵉʳ;ᵃˡⁱᶜᵉ;ᵉᵈʷᵃʳᵈ;ᵇᵉˡˡᵃ;ᵉᵐᵐᵉᵗᵗ;ʳᵒˢᵃˡⁱᵉ

ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʲᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ? ˢᵉⁿᵈ ᵃ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉᵃᵗ!! :)

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𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖑𝖊 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 '𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗' 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖑𝖊 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚎

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖑𝖊 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

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𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚝...

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𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝔍𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗

𝔄𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚝...

𝔈𝔡𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡

𝕰𝖉𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

ℑ𝔰𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚝...

𝔈𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔱

𝕰𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝕰𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚜

ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔢

𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊

« 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒

[vigilante-3073]

Can I get Carlisle with reader that has migraines a lot? How he would react/help them?

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖑𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓

Carlisle's love is gentle, soothing. Rather than the bright flame and burning passion one thinks of when asked about love, his is more of a warm breeze, a presence that brings contentment. He cares for you, he makes you feel safe and loved consistently rather than the highs and lows of modern romance. Love is often compared to the brightness of stars, but stars don't shine - they burn and they die. His love for you will never die and neither will his care.

It's a subtlety, the way he cares. Like right now.

The room is too bright and the silence is too loud as you lay in his warm bed. He'd picked it out just for you, but right now that didn't matter. Not to him and not to you. All he cares about right now is you, and all you could focus on is the buzzing of your head, soothed by the icyness of carlisle's hand on your head. His other hand strokes gently up and down your back as you lay on him.

Your reluctance to take any medication only worries him more, yet he still admires your stubborness even in times like this.

Afraid to speak and add to the pounding in your head, he whispers almost inaudibly. "are you sure, my love? No painkillers?" only to be met with a groan from you. Not one of annoyance or indignation, one he desiphers as a 'no, thank you' because you hurt too much for words. He really does know you well enough to understand the connotations of random noises.

The empty bottle of water of the bed side table is knocked to the floor with a clatter ad he reaches behind it to grab the fill one, left only to kiss the crown of your head apologetically and rub circles into the small of your back. He gives you a moment of peace after the noise stops, then tilts your chin up with his index finger.

"open" his words are nearly silent but you still do, and he pours a little water into your mouth for you. Waiting for you to swallow, he gives an appreciative look your way.

[vigilante-3073]

You can't help the sharp intake of breath as the needle goes through your skin.

"I know... I'm sorry, honey; I'm almost done." Carlisle soothes as he quickly and efficiently sews your skin back together.

You grip the front of his blue button-up as he works, doing your best to stay still.

Earlier, at Bella's birthday party, she had gotten a papercut from one of the presents. Unfortunately, this sent Jasper into a bit of a frenzy.

The situation only escalated when Edward had shoved Bella back in an attempt to separate her from his brother. He had missed that you were in the way -sending her flying into you as you both crashed into a table with some vases.

You took the brunt of the fall, keeping her from getting cut up worse but, in turn, got sliced pretty deep by the ceramic.

Luckily, everyone was able to be calmed down before anyone got seriously hurt.

A couple minutes after the whole ordeal and here you are, sat on the kitchen counter in front of your mate as he stitched your arm back together.

Carlisle ties off the last stitch and snips the thread.

"Let's get you wrapped up, hm?" He lightly cuffs your chin as he turns to grab the gauze.

A small smile graces your face as you watch him work. The composed and serious expression he wears is unfairly handsome in the dim lighting.

Once he has the gauze secured, Carlisle cradles your face in both hands. He places a kiss on your forehead before asking, "How are you feeling?"

"A little sore," you answer, placing your arms on his shoulders so you can clasp your fingers behind him. "But it's not too bad... thanks to you~" you tease.

He laughs as he presses forward to kiss you. "Well I'm flattered."

Your own giggles subside as you stare into each other's eyes, letting an intimate silence fall over you.

"I love you~"

"And I you."

@alecvolturi @kiiwiigii

[vigilante-3073]

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖑𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓

Carlisle Cullen is a genius. A doctor. An avid reader. But one thing he'll never get is how you don't want him to look after you. He just doesn't get it.

"Carlisle" you say, exasperated, "It's really not that difficult" though you have to hold back a laugh at the situation.

"Yes it is, my love - your money is yours, and my money is ours" he enunciates clearly, with vage hand gestures and a gentle smile on his face.

Unable to hold it back any longer, you burst out into laughter "Darling-". But there are no words, and the gentle and knowing smile on Carlisle face let's you know he's won. "okay, you know what? Fine. Your money is for us both and mine is for me. But! You have to let me actually spend my money then. No more swiping your card as I'm getting mine out. Deal?"

"No deal" he says, smile teasing as he places a gentle kiss to your lips. His hands rest on your hips as he pulls you in. It's almost enough to distract you. Almost.

"Carlisle" you whine, but there's no hiding the beaming smile on your face.

"Just let me take care of you." Another kiss. "please?"

"Fine. You can take care of me. But you have to let me take care of you too, you know. Its a two way street, darling" you give in for now, what else could you do with the way he's looking at you.

"But you do take care of me, you loveee me" his voice may be teasing still, but the point still stands. He knows he's got you with the sigh you let out. Slipping his hand in your back pocket, he smugly kisses you.

Your eyebrows furrow.

"Carlisle I swear, if you just put money in my back pocket-"

[vigilante-3073]

Do you have any thoughts on what Wilson might be insecure about and how reader might comfort him?

Insecurities

James Wilson x Reader

TW: Mentions of infidelity and age-gap, hurt/comfort

Wilson has the biggest heart and tends to put everyone before himself. If he did have insecurities, it's not likely that he would bring them up to his partner independently.

It would definitely take some meddling from House or a partner who is very aware of Wilson and his emotional state. His partner would need to be able to tell when he is going through something because it is unlikely that he would bring up his concerns without prompting.

Wilson is more likely to become distant in an effort to avoid being put in a situation where he would have to discuss his insecurities.

Possible insecurities he could have:

1. Age gap if his partner was younger than him.

He would be fine for the first few months, but then he would slowly become aware of how others perceived his relationship.

A few jokes from House about "robbing the cradle" or "dating outside of his decade" would send him into a silent, downward spiral.

He's worried that he won't be enough for his partner and the differences between them will become more apparent as they get older.

2. Not being able to remain loyal to his spouse.

Wilson has a wandering eye that cannot be controlled even when he has a ring on his finger.

He loves his partner completely, but he dreads the day when their marriage isn't enough for him.

Wilson wants a love that can fulfill him, but he worries that it doesn't exist.

3. Being able to devote time to his partner while also maintaining a friendship with House.

Wilson's friendship with House takes up a large amount of both his personal and professional time.

He never established boundaries with House and as a result, House tends to monopolize every moment that he can.

Wilson is worried that he won't be able to balance his relationships and will wind up being there for House instead of his partner.

He wants to devote his time to his partner, but he finds himself being pulled in House's direction.

In previous relationships, he has always spent more time helping House while leaving his spouses unsupported and he worries that he won't be able to change his behavior.

How his S/O comforts him:

It would take a lot of persistence to get him to reveal how he really feels.

The disclosure of his insecurities would help to unburden him, but he would probably feel embarrassed or ashamed of having the worries that he did.

Wilson would need his partner to take him in their arms and tell him everything was going to be alright, even if they didn't really know it for sure.

He would want his partner to make him feel heard and understood because he's likely had these insecurities for a long time.

Wilson may even need his partner to tell him that they trust him and cast some light on how outrageous his insecurities may seem (Especially in the case of the age gap).

Wilson would definitely value a partner who checked in with him routinely or called him out when they noticed him starting to withdraw.

You could even argue that the distance he creates or the lack of information sharing has led to the end of some of his marriages.

Wilson holds everything inside and he would need someone who is willing to take the time to pull that information out of him.

[vigilante-3073]

I want to request something for Wilson (sfw). I just want to make sure I follow your request rules so I was curious what they were. Sorry if you have them somewhere, and I just missed that.

No real rules for requesting as I'm not too limited on what I'm willing to write about in the sfw area.

Requests are a great way to get some different ideas and I'd like to provide the best product possible. I haven't written much in the nsfw arena, but I would definitely be open to giving it a try as well.

[vigilante-3073]

Do you still talk/do work for James Wilson?

I do! Feel free to send in any requests.

[vigilante-3073]

JAKE GYLLENHAAL Road House (2024) dir. Doug Liman

[vigilante-3073]

Schitts Creek 3.01: “Opening Night"

[vigilante-3073]

Distance

James Wilson x Reader (REQUESTED)

Summary: James and Y/N Wilson welcomed their first child almost five months ago. Y/N begins to notice the distance between her and her husband after he returns to work.

TW: Angst, lonliness, mentions of infidelity, babies and falling out of love.

Y/N sat in the rocking chair in D/N's nursery, she rocked back and forth gently as she cradled the baby in her arms. D/N's nose scrunched up as she dreamt, small hands grasping onto the light pink blanket wrapped around her.

D/N was almost five months old, she had her father's temperament along with his beautiful brown eyes. Y/N had never known a love like the one she felt when she saw her baby girl for the first time. She and Wilson were overjoyed when they found out that she was pregnant after almost a year of trying. Wilson was present and supportive of her every need throughout the pregnancy, whether it be cravings, morning sickness or body aches.

Wilson was attentive and helpful throughout his three-month long paternity leave. He was up and out of bed at the first sound from the monitor and he always had their daughter in his arms whenever he could.

Wilson was an amazing father, but then he went back to work and it was like the dynamic had changed entirely. He left early in the morning and stayed at work late, only coming home long after Y/N had gone to sleep. She couldn't help but feel like he had lost interest in her and their daughter.

Y/N knew about Wilson's past infidelity and tried desperately to keep her imagination from running wild.

She knew that her body didn't look the same after the pregnancy, but there was also a part of her that knew her worries could be purely caused by hormones or exhaustion. No matter how many times she told herself that she was making something out of nothing, she still couldn't seem to push her worries aside.

She was tired of being alone and caring for their daughter by herself. Y/N missed her husband and she could feel her resolve starting to crumble.

Y/N looked down at her sleeping daughter before slowly standing from the rocking chair and moving over to the crib. She carefully leaned over the railing and laid the baby down on the plush mattress.

D/N shifted with a whimper, her small fists clenching. Y/N shushed her softly, resting her hand on the baby's chest and brushing her thumb across the fabric of her pink pyjamas.

The baby settled after a few moments, allowing Y/N to step back before picking up the baby monitor and making her way out of the nursery.

Y/N made her way into the living room, eyes glossing over with frustrated tears immediately as she saw the mess. Every surface was covered in clutter and a few scattered cups or plates. Y/N huffed, silently moving around the room as she began to clean up. It suddenly felt like the entire apartment was suffocating, she was overwhelmed and frustrated without any possibility of relief.

She knew that she would eventually crumble underneath the pressure.

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, tossing away the garbage and setting the dishes on the counter before returning to the living room to continue tidying the space. She froze in place when she heard a key slide into the lock, her eyes found the clock and saw that it was almost 1 o'clock in the morning.

Of course James would be coming home.

Y/N shook her head, folding a blanket as he opened the door and stepped inside. She could see the brief moment of shock on his face when he saw that she was still awake.

"I thought you'd be asleep," He said gently, closing the door and taking off his coat.

"Of course you did or you wouldn't be here," Y/N stated, draping the blanket over the back of the couch. She bent down and collected their daughter's toys from the floor, tossing them into the wicker basket beside the couch.

Wilson's brow furrowed, "What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, she shook her head, "Forget it," Y/N muttered.

"No, come on, talk to me," Wilson said, moving around the couch to stand in front of his wife.

Y/N huffed, swiping at her cheek as a tear broke free, "What's going on with you?" He asked gently.

"What's going on with me? What's going on with you? I haven't seen you in weeks! You're gone before I'm awake and you don't come home until I'm already asleep. It's like you can barely stand to be in the same room as me for more than two minutes," She said.

"That's not true," Wilson replied.

"Who is she, James?" Y/N snapped.

"Who is who?" He asked, she huffed as more tears rolled down her cheeks, "The woman you're cheating on me with," Y/N said quietly.

"I'm not cheating on you. Why would you think that?" Wilson asked.

"I'm alone all the time and I can't do this anymore. If you're sleeping with someone else, I just need you to tell me so I can stop feeling like I'm doing something wrong," Y/N pleaded, breath catching in her chest as she tried to keep from falling apart.

"I'm not cheating on you," Wilson stated, hands resting on her biceps.

"Then where did you go? Why don't you want to be with me anymore? Do you not love me? Is it my body because I can-" "Stop, don't even think about finishing that sentence," He said.

Y/N wiped her cheeks with a sniff, "I just miss you and I can't do this by myself," Y/N said shakily.

Wilson pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest. Her body trembled in his arms as her hands gripped onto the material of his shirt. Y/N broke down into quiet sobs, tears soaking into the material of his shirt.

"I love you so much and I am so unbelievably sorry that I made you think I don't want you," Wilson said softly.

He held her until her crying had dissolved into small sniffles, head tucked into the crook of his neck as she calmed down. Wilson's hand rubbed over her back soothingly, "Do you want to know where I've been?" He asked.

She nodded, "I've been transferring the care of some of my patients to another Oncologist at the hospital," Wilson said.

"Why?" Y/N asked softly.

"To spend more time at home," Wilson stated.

Y/N huffed a laugh, "I thought you were cheating on me," She muttered.

"I didn't exactly explain myself before jumping straight into this so I'll forgive you for assuming the worst," He said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I love you, James," Y/N said.

"I love you too, honey," He replied with a soft smile.

[vigilante-3073]

Once they are in a relationship, do you think Jason would be more comfortable sleeping in a bed with reader or alone? I could imagine either for various reasons

I think for a long time, Jason would be more comfortable sleeping alone, all the while desperately wanting to physically sleep together.

At any stage in the relationship, but especially in its early stages, Jason would be deeply insecure about how his trauma and his work could affect his partner.

He'd come home at odd hours: at dawn, just before the sun rose, perhaps midday after a particularly long case, reeking of blood and gunpowder. And he'd find himself moving as quietly as he could in his own home, doing his best not to disturb you. He'd probably just collapse on the couch than risk waking you.

Then, there were the nightmares, the ones that would have him wake up with a scream still lodged in his throat, the ones that would have him rising from the bed on shaking legs, so that he could vomit in the bathroom sink.

The ones that he would do anything to hide from you.

Because while he trusts you, there is a part of him—the part that had once been Robin, the part that had been left alone to die in the dark—that is terrified you will leave when you find out just how broken he is.

I think for the most part, he'll want to sleep alone, even when he needs the comfort.

There might be days when you catch him off-guard, though. Perhaps after a particularly rough case, one that has him stumbling through the doors of your shared home, already half-asleep with exhaustion. Perhaps he'll find you reading a book in a patch of sunlight by the window. Perhaps you had just finished baking, and the house smells like coffee and freshly-risen dough.

And for a second he'll think that he doesn't want to be alone.

"Busy?" he asks in a voice so ragged with exhaustion that it doesn't even sound like him.

When you shake your head, he'll find himself sitting right next to you on the couch, still reeking of blood and gunpowder.

When you try to ask about the case, he briefly considers lying.

But when he looks at you, he finds that he doesn't want to lie. Because even through the thick leather of his gloves, your hands feel warm against his. Because you look beautiful in the honeyed light.

Because, he thinks, that maybe you will not leave him alone in the dark.

"Can I stay here?" he asks.

"Jason," you say. "this is your home, too."

Home, he thinks.

He hasn't had that since Wayne Manor burned down.

This time, he does not move quietly as he removes his helmet, his gloves. They hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thump.

This time, he does not move away.

Instead, he lays his head on your lap, and lets himself melt against the warmth of your skin. He watches the sun dance across the ceiling of the apartment, and he inhales the scent of coffee and freshly-risen dough and the sweet scent of you.

He feels your hand gently stroking his hair and he thinks: yes, this is home.

This time when he sleeps, he does not dream.

[vigilante-3073]

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Hold Me Part 2

Apology Flowers

Helping Hand

My Love Mine All Mine

Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Cuddle For Warmth

Tree-hugger Part 2 Part 3

James Wilson x Female Reader

Head of Pediatrics Reader

Blue Or Pink?

Cancer

Loss & Grief

Wedding Bells Or Separations?

Pretty In Pink

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Distance

Insecurities

Ink

Snooze

Love Story

Jason Kolchek x Female Reader

Chemistry

[vigilante-3073]

thinking about daryl giving you a nickname…

18+, mdni

AN: this was a midnight brain worm while i was working on something else, so just walk with me ok!

daryl wasn't really one for nicknames.

he'd never had one coming up, always just "daryl" or "merle's brother" or something else sneered and distasteful. that was fine with him. to daryl, nicknames were rooted in sarcasm and mean jokes.

it hadn't started any differently with you.

that day in the quarry way back, the morning after the walkers had attacked their people. daryl was already aggravated, sweaty and thinking about merle (alone and hurt and alone), and he didn't much like these fucking people anyway, so when you stood with glenn, insisting on a burial over burning, dried tear tracks on your face (those people were your people too. you were mourning with the rest of them), he didn't hold back, sneering "well ain't you just a fuckin' peach," and watching your face harden in the wake of his words.

daryl didn't mean for it to stick, but he found himself defaulting to the silly name anyway. first when he was annoyed at you. you were soft, unfit for the grime of this new world, then when he was poking fun, and eventually... something else.

in the cdc, with a hangover keeping you slumped over the table, "shoulda stayed out the bottle if ya couldn't handle it, peach."

over the long winter on the road, with barely any food or water, "keep up, peach, i ain’t gon’ carry you.”

in the prison, sharing shifts up in the watchtower (because you were sort of friends now) (because daryl felt almost rewarded when your eyes lit up at your nickname), "don't need to teach you on the bow, peach. you're just fine with a knife."

trapped in the train car in terminus, fussing over his injuries even though you could barely map him out in the dark, "peach. peach. quit it, ‘m alright."

the road to alexandria was long and brutal. 'peach' turned into your name and your name turned into silence. daryl was grieving, you were grieving, and the space between you felt like a chasm, dark and wide. finding that community was a blessing in disguise, not just for the group, but for you and daryl specifically. you came back together behind the walls, both unwilling to acclimate, but knowing you needed to try.

‘peach’ made its way back into circulation slowly and then so frequently that even the alexandrians began to catch on.

when daryl had to leave with aaron for a run, “later, peach. i’ll find ya after your shift.”

laughing over your assigned job, “the hell you know about gardenin’, peach? they shoulda put ya in the tower.”

inevitably your relationship shifted into something more intimate. it wasn’t a secret, hell, the group had seen it coming long ago.

‘peach’ stopped being a nickname and became a term of endearment. something daryl reserved for tender moments.

startling awake when daryl joined you in bed, late after a long run, “just me, peach, go back to sleep.”

when you came back from a run that turned dicey, a little worse for wear, “lemme see it, peach, i got ya.”

and in… other moments as well.

your body pressed firmly against daryl's, his lips a breath from yours, whispering, “tell me what ya need, peach. you know i’ll give it to ya.”

daryl laid between your legs, two fingers curling cruelly against your g-spot while you rode out your orgasm above him, “there ya go, peach, so fuckin’ good.”

daryl had never been one for nicknames, this fact held up even after the world ended. your own family was rarely on the receiving end of a playful moniker. but to him, ‘peach’ was easy as breathing and, to you, it sounded like “i love you” every time.