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n0thingbutlov3 · 3 months

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need you now

in which a impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds

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riseatlantisss · 1 year

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The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

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tojipie · 11 months

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Omg please please please write another fic about needy cry baby gf and Toji 😫🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

thinking abt him not realizing when he’s being mean because he grew up in a house full of boys where insults were a form of affection :( we’ve all got a little bit of crybaby reader in us me finks

content: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

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a sea of limbs dance and weave around the court with intricacies you won’t even pretend to understand, leaving you more confused with each passing minute.

you remind yourself that you’re here for toji, wanting to spend more time with him regardless of whether you were into the activity.

toji liked it, so you liked it. at least before the game got confusing.

“that was two points, right?” you ask him, trying to make sense of the shot a player had just made.

toji pauses, holding the chilled end of his beer can to the back of his neck.

“three, baby.” he corrects, kicking his work boots off. the older man relaxes into the soft embrace of the couch with a groan, propping his feet up on the ottoman.

“right… right.” you realize, listening as the announcer gives a rundown of what just happened. you look over and gauge his expression, searching for any acknowledgment of what you’d just said.

“sorry, not really a basketball fan.” you joke, hoping to alleviate the awkward air.

“not that smart either, huh?” toji chuckles, taking a sip of his beer.

your stomach drops at the comment. blood rushes to your ears as humiliation takes over, eyes welling up with hot tears.

you knew he was 100% joking. that’s just how toji was around the people he loved.

you were being too sensitive, right?

the two of you had discussed instances like this before, the older man explaining that that was truly just how he spoke to people.

he never meant to upset you, in fact he’d rather hang than ever hurt you on purpose. his words, not yours.

toji has promised you he was working on it, trying to choose his words more carefully around you.

that’s all it was, you tell yourself. a simple slip of the tongue.

or was he truly mad at you this time?

nope. just a joke. you tell yourself, fiddling with a loose thread in your sleeve to distract from the lump in your throat. you try to inhale around the blockage, accidentally releasing a sob that alerts toji right away.

“hey.” he mumbles, setting his drink down to look at you. calloused hands cradle your face as the older man takes a close look at you.

you pull away, trying to compose yourself. just a joke! you remind yourself.

a joke, not serious. just. a. joke.

“nonono, hey it’s okay.” he whispers, eyes blowing wide as he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“i’m sorry sweetheart, i’m sorry.” he pleads, muting the tv to focus on you.

“m’ not stupid.” you whimper, wiping each eye with the back of your hand.

“course not pretty girl.” he whispers, rubbing your back in soft circles. “i’m sorry, you know that’s j—“

“just how you talk.” you mumble, not sure if his explanation actually made it ok.

“but.” he starts, pulling you into his lap with a grunt.

“that’s not an excuse, right?” he asks you, clearly remorseful.

“need to watch my mouth around my girl, huh?” he chuckles, still rubbing small circles up and down your back.

“it’s ok.” you conclude, resting your head on his shoulder as he presses soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead.

“hate making you upset.” he tells you firmly, nuzzling into the crown of your head.

“you wanna watch something else?” he asks, placing the remote in your hand. “movie, youtube?”

you crawl out of the older man’s lap and onto the couch, pulling up prime to scan the comedy section.

“i fucking hate basketball.” you giggle, the man beside you breaking out in full blown laughter as you press play on the remote.

#adah’s asks #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji fluff #toji drabbles #toji hcs #toji x reader fluff #toji x reader angst #toji x reader hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader flufd #jjk #zenin toji #toji zenin #zenin toji x reader

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angelfic · 7 months

Text

— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you haven’t seen theo since he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.

warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad

author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo

12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.

Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.

“You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”

You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”

“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”

A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.

You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”

Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.

“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.

Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”

“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.

“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”

Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”

“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”

The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.

You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.

“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.

“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”

“Yep.”

Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.

“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.

You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”

You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.

Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”

You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.

“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”

You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.

Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”

“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.

Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“I should go and deck him in the face.”

Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.

Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.

“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”

“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.

He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”

“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.

“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”

He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room

You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.

You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“

You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.

As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.

You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.

Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.

“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”

“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.

Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.

“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”

“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.

You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.

You immediately step back.

Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.

Good, you think viciously.

Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.

You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”

“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.

Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.

“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.

Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”

Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.

You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.

“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”

The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.

Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.

“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”

Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”

“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”

“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.

Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”

You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”

You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.

The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.

Sort of.

He isn’t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.

It’s starting to unnerve you a little.

One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.

Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.

“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.

“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.

Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”

“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.

You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.

When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.

The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.

“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.

“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.

Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?

The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.

Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”

“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”

“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.

He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.

The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”

Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”

“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”

“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”

Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”

“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”

“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”

“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”

You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”

“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.

“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”

“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”

You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.

He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”

Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead

“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”

“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”

You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.

“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.

“Uhm, okay. Bye,” you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”

He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”

“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”

Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”

You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”

Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.

You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.

After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.

You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”

You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”

Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.

As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.

As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.

At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.

But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.

It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.

He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.

“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”

“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”

“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.

“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”

“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”

“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.

“Sorry-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.

His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.

“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”

Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.

The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.

“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”

You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.

“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”

“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”

Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”

You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.

Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”

“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”

Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”

“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.

“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”

You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.

“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.

“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”

“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”

You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.

You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.

Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.

“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”

You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”

“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”

“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott smut #theodore nott

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slayfics · 9 months

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Katsuki gets caught being sweet to you.

You started to finally catch your breath being at the top of the hiking trail Katsuki had dragged you out too.

"Alright there, it's just us up here so tell me already. What the hell has been going on?"

"That's why you brought me out here?" You asked.

"Just tell me already, stop being so damn stubborn." He pried you impatiently.

"I told you I'm fine Bakugo, just busy like everyone else." You replied.

"Don't give me that shit. Do you think I'm stupid? The other extras are too dense to notice but I can see how exhausted you've been this whole week. So just tell me- what's going on," He said.

"You didn't need to drag me out here on a hike in freezing weather to do this, you know," You said, slightly irritated at Katsuki continuing to push you.

"Ugh- will you stop stalling and talk already," He yelled, causing you to let out an annoyed sigh. Katsuki put his hands in his pockets and looked out at the view, his demeanor softening slightly. "You can talk to me, you know," he added, his voice lower and kinder than before.

You stayed looking at the view for a few more moments trying to figure out how to unpack everything that had been stressing you out. It wasn't like some big thing, but a summation of a bunch of little things that were beginning to become too challenging to manage.

A cold breeze blew by causing you to shiver. You wondered why Katsuki had insisted on bringing you up this mountain to talk to you. He could have pestered you in your dorm where it was warm.

Katsuki stole glances at you occasionally then focused back on the view not wanting to intimidate you too much from his glare. Hiking always helped him to clear his mind and gather his thoughts when they seemed too loud. He thought maybe it would help you too, and being away from all your classmates might make it easier for you to talk to him. At the very least it made it easier for Katsuki to be more vulnerable with you. He found it too daunting to express himself fully with all the attention of his classmates around. It was much easier being only in your company.

You took a deep breath, "I guess- it's just been hard to balance everything recently," You finally spoke, breaking the silence. Katsuki made it easy to open up to, as he had no problem sitting in silence for long extended periods. Others in your life felt the need to fill that silence with useless chatter which always prevented you from sitting in your emotions and being able to formulate them into words.

You took in another breath feeling a lump in your throat form. You hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about what was going on for fear of opening up the flood of emotions and not being able to stop. Now here it was. You didn't want to cry on this fucking hill.

Katsuki patiently waited while you gathered your thoughts.

"It's just been so much and I've been barely keeping up. It's- been getting to me recently. I've been forgetting things I shouldn't. Being unusually upset at things that aren't that big of a deal- and I just- it's dumb." You cut yourself off afraid to say anymore.

"It's not dumb. Don't hold that shit in, it's not healthy," He said encouraging you to keep talking.

You sighed, "I just... know that it could be way worse, and I've been through way worse so- I feel so irritated at myself. What I'm going through now isn't something I can't handle. I know that. So why do I feel so fucking exhausted with everything," You replied wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"Hmm," Katsuki grunted, processing what you said. "You know, it's ok to be tired, and- to not be perfect. You can't just deny yourself from feeling overwhelmed because it could be worse. If you're exhausted now then those feelings are real- and it's ok to have them," He spoke.

You looked down at the view watching the distant cars pass, "Thanks," You managed to say taking another deep breath.

"You shouldn't wait to handle them until they explode either. Trust me, I know what that's like," He said, causing you to let out a small giggle. "You're too damn hard on yourself you know that?"

You let out a full laugh, "Oh that's pretty good coming from you. You're the pro at having too high expectations for yourself," you laughed.

You and Katsuki were wrapped up in your conversation causing you not to notice approaching classmates in the distance. Mina and Eijiro had also decided to come up the hill after class and spotted both of you in the distance.

"That looks like we shouldn't interrupt," Eijiro said.

"Yeah," Mina agreed. "But maybe... we could get a little closer to make sure everything is ok?" She said, pulling Eijiro into the bushes to spy on you and Katsuki. Eijiro was highly against the plan but was unable to protest for fear of you two hearing.

"Yeah I know I have high expectations for myself... that's why I know what it fucking looks like when you're being too hard on yourself. So- tonight I'm coming to your dorm and, I'm making sure you get to bed at a reasonable fucking time."

Mina's eyes widened as she looked at Eijiro, "Coming to their dorm?!" She whispered, and Eijrio covered her mouth, silencing her.

"You mean Grandpa time at 9 p.m.?"

"Shut up! 9 p.m. is late as hell! You damn idiots just don't know how to have a good sleep schedule! Look I'm making sure you get some sleep and tomorrow I'm taking you out. So- figure out where you want to eat, I don't care where. And I'm not letting you say no you need a break," Katsuki replied.

"You don't have to do that Bakugo."

"Of course, I don't have to but, I want to. So just shut up and let me take care of you ok. You better not be afraid to order enough food this time either! I'm buying so- just get whatever you want, alright?"

"Ok ok," You laughed, feeling your mood brighten.

"Next time, just tell me when you're having a bad day or something. Stop making me drag it out of you. I- worry about you, you know? Now let's go back to the dorms. I see you shivering," He said, beginning to walk back down the hill.

Mina squirmed again under Eijiro's hand, keeping her silent. Her eyes said it all. She was in disbelief at Katsuki's words.

"Here," Katsuki said, holding his hand out and offering it to you. "I'll warm your hand with my quirk," he said.

You grabbed his hand interlacing your fingers with his.

"Don't dare say anything about how sweaty my hands are!" He barked.

You giggled, "How many times do I have to tell you I don't care Bakugo. It's part of your quirk, and your quirk is amazing you shouldn't be self-conscious about it. Besides, I'm always happy to hold your hand," You said as you two walked down the mountain.

"Tch whatever," Katsuki grumbled looking away from you as a small tint grew on his cheeks.

Finally, when you and Katsuki were far enough down the hill, Eijiro released Mina.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!?" Mina exclaimed.

"Shh shhh," Eijiro pleaded.

"WHAT- He wants to take care of them?!? OH MY GOD! They are totally dating right?! That's what he said he's taking them out to eat! And he's sneaking into their dorm! Wait wait- when they held hands it sounded like that had before! AND AND BAKUGO WAS TOTALLY BLUSHING! NO WAY!" Mina said looking like she might pass out from all this information.

"Ashido relax, we shouldn't have heard any of that!" Eijiro replied.

"Yeah but but-" Mina exclaimed, her head spinning. "Who knew Baklugo could actually be so sweet! I can't wait to tell Jiro-" She said, pulling out her phone.

"NO!" Eijiro said, grabbing her phone from her. "Uh- sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh but- you can't tell anyone what we heard ok?" Eijiro said.

"WHAT?! I just heard Bakugo being the sweetest boyfriend ever and you expect me not to say anything about that?!"

"YES!" Eijiro yelled. "Look they both like their privacy and there is a reason they were all the way up here talking, Ashido. I think we should keep this a secret and let them do things at their own pace ok?" He said, handing Mina back her phone.

"UGH-" She exclaimed letting out a big sigh. "I guess you're right... but wow who would have thought Bakugo could be a decent person much less a good boyfriend." She said.

Eijiro just shrugged at her words, "I don't know he's not a bad guy like you all make him out to be you know."

"Wait! You totally already knew didn't you!" Mina said, slapping Eijiro's shoulder.

"Hey! I mean- Bakugo is my best friend you know, so yeah I did..." He answered truthfully.

"You suck! Keeping secrets like that from me!" Mina said playfully, waving a finger at him.

"I'm sorry, but it's their business you know?" He said.

"Yeah I understand, guess we should go back to the dorms too now," Mina suggested.

"Yeah it is pretty cold up here, let's go." He agreed as they both started to walk down the hill. "I don't have Bakugo's quirk or anything but- if you're cold you can hold my hand too if you want," Eijiro suggested.

Mina's face tinted a darker pink as she reached out and grabbed Eijiro's hand.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries

Picture taken from @everypanelofkatsuki, thank you for all your hard work! Go check them out if you haven’t!

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cavegirlpoems · 2 months

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I see we're talking about XP!

@thydungeongal and @imsobadatnicknames2 have interesting posts up, and now it's my turn to throw my thoughts out there. SO. I think of XP as the game itself offering you a little bribe. Do the things the game wantss you to be doing, and the game gives you an XP to say thank you. Get enough XP, and you're reward is greater a permanent bump in power, meaning greater ability to exert your will over the world and therefore greater agency. (Systems like Fate Points, Willpower, Inspiration etc work the same, except the increased agency is a temporary one-time thing, not permanent, so at times I'll lump them in).

So. Let's talk about a few different systems and how they handle this.

Let's start at the very begining (a very good place to begin). In the very early editions of D&D - back when Elf was a class - you got XP for treasure. Every gold coin you got out of a dungeon (or equivallent value of other treasure) was 1 XP. This worked well; the game wanted you to go into a dungeon and explore it for treasure, while trying not to die. If you succeeded, you got XP, which made you better at doing that so you could do it again in a more dangerous dungeon. And because treasure is XP, and treasure weighs you down, getting it out is a meaningful activity. Hell, many of these games measure weight and encumbrance on a scale of 'how many coins' to drive this home. It was a good loop. Early D&D has many faults (like the weird racism in the MM) but the xp system is something it absolutely nailed.

Next up, let's look at classic vampire the masquerade. At the end of each session, you get 1 xp just for being there, and then another if your character learned something, if you portrayed your character well, and if your character was 'heroic'. So, what's classic VtM rewarding? Ultimately, it rewards the player for being the kind of player the game wants. If you get into character, engage with the game world, and act like an interesting protagonist, you get rewarded for it. It's a bit fuzzy, and at the GM's discretion, but its very up-front with what it wants to incentivise. It was the 90s, they were still working out how to be a narrative-driven game, but you can see where they were going with it.

OK, now lets look at something a bit weirder; monsterhearts. The main source of XP here will be Moves. Rather than a bolted-on rewards mechanic, each game mechanic you engage with might grant you xp. You can use your strings on another PC to bribe them with XP when you want them to do something. Lots of abilities just give you an XP for doing a thing, such as a Ghost ability that gives you XP for spying on somebody, or aa Fae ability that gives other players XP when they promise you things. Here, XP is baked into the game, but its very up front about being a bribe. Act the way the game wants, or go along with other players' machinations, and you get rewarded for it. And, critically, XP is just one part of a wider game-economy of incentives and metacurrencies; it links in with strings and harm and +1forward in interesting and intricate ways that push the game forward. Monsterhearts is a well designed game, and you should study it.

Finally, let's look at how D&D 5e does it, as a What Not To Do! We have two different options. The first is XP for combat. When you use violence to defeat something, you get XP for it. Under this option, the only way to mechanically improve your character is by killing things. So, we can conclude that D&D is a game that wants you to engage in constant violence. The other option is 'milestone XP'. IE: you level up at the GM's whim, when they feel like it. What does this reward? Fucking nothing. Or, at best, you're rewarded for following the railroad and reaching pre-planned plot moments in a pre-scripted story. You either have no agency in the matter, or are rewarded for subsuming your agency to the will of the GM. (This pattern continues with inspiration rewards, which are given 'when the GM is entertained by you'. Fucking dire.) "Oh!" the 5e fandom says "But a good GM can write a list of achievements that will trigger milestone XP". And yes, they can, but that's not how the text of the game presents it. That's a house rule. That's the GM doing game design to add a new, better, mechanic to the game to fix its failings. Is it any wonder, then, that the 5e fandom puts so mucn weight on the GM's shoulders, and has such a weird semi-antagonistic relationship between GM and player? Is it any wonder that absolutely brutal railroading (and the resulting backlash of disruptive play) is so rife over there? Look at how the incentive structures are built? It's either killing forever or GM-as-god-king! Anyway, yeah. Consider what you reward with XP, because that will become what your game wants. And if you're hacking a game, one of the most efficient hacks is to change what you get XP for and suddenly the game will pivot to something very different.

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yourheart-inmyhands · 4 months

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Hi hi!! I was just wondering if you could write general hcs (or longer blurbs) of the Harbingers (Childe, Dottore, Pantalone, Capitano, Arlecchino and La Signora) with a dumb and naive fem! Reader? (Gn is fine) Perversions such as stalking, manipulation, and non con elements + etc. are a-ok! 👌(^◡^ ) I want the entirety of the Yandere-ness!!!

Much love 😈

hi this request was so cool!! i don't usually do more than 3-4 characters per post so i did a few this time, if you wanna swing back around and request the rest of the characters i'd be more than happy to write it for you :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against ones will, subject to unwilling experiments, delusional behaviors, obsessive tendencies, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Childe:

Oh Celestia you couldn’t be any more perfect could you? That wide-eyed, dumb little look you gave him whenever he was talking about his missions, eager to listen but to stupid to understand. He just adores you, his big hands cupping your face, squishing your cheeks to make you look even sillier. Childe just can’t get enough of you.

You’re like a little puppy dog to him, so cute and silly yet so unknowing. He can’t help but want to smother you in hugs and kisses when you’re around, doting on you and making sure no one ever lays a finger on you aside from him.

It’s when you’re not around that things are different with Childe, it’s like he’s gone haywire, feral without your company. He wears a little locket on a chain attached to his belt, it has a picture of you and a lock of your hair inside. He makes sure to keep it well protected, occasionally spraying it with your perfume or beauty products so it smells like you. As soon as he’s back home with you though he’s the same sweet, overbearing Childe he was previously.

Dottore:

He takes full advantage of the situation, subjecting you to minor experiments, most of which are harmless. Dottore always has his eyes on you, whether his actual ones or the ones of his segments. Even in your sleep there’s some variation of him watching you, settled at your bedside with a notepad in hand, camera just beside him. It’s like every second of your life is being recorded for Dottore, because it is.

He’s also obsessed with your body, giving you regular weekly check ups. He tells you that it’s normal, that all proper adults get checkups this often, even when the check ups push beyond the normal means. It’s not just the normal things like checking your heart rate and ensuring you’ve got no lumps, bumps, or growths. It extends into things like how fast your hair and nails grow, any changes caused by the experiments he does, changes in your natural body scent, and other random things.

Dottore also takes care of any and all medical needs you have, he’s become your personal doctor. Anything and everything you do is under his control, he picks when and how often you sleep, what you eat, how much daylight you get, and what you do on a day to day basis. The best part is you’re too stupid and naive to muster up the courage to say anything.

Pantalone:

This man, in all his wisdom and cash, adores how you let him do anything he wishes with you. You’ve become his little doll to dress up, style, and control. He makes you the perfect little partner, picking out all your outfits, regularly rotating the clothing in your wardrobe with new outfits, he’d be criminal if he let you wear the same thing twice.

Pantalone takes you everywhere with him, flaunting his perfect little darling to others. He makes sure to use big, extravagant words when talking about you to others so that you don’t understand, it’s usually all good though so no worries. If there is any reason he can’t take you with him, you can expect him to leave a comprehensive list and schedule for you, keeping his control over what you wear even whilst he’s gone.

He uses your stupidity against you, betting things on which of you will be right or if you can answer correctly. You’re wrong every time and he loves it, and yet despite being wrong every time, because you stood no chance at knowing the right answer, you fall right into the same trap over and over again. He just adores you so much, and he’d do anything to keep you by his side, forever.

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fandomxo00 · 20 hours

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Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

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withleeknow · 6 months

Text

how he would take care of you during shark week. ⤷ chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, lil fluff, lil angst, mentions of physical pain bc it's shark week and we're cramping lol ok, unedited bc i wrote this a couple months ago and i just wanted to post smth today and i'm currently half asleep word count: 0.4k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

minho comes home to a quiet house, four of his favorite beings nowhere to be found. he takes off his shoes, hangs up his jacket, put his keys where he can easily fetch them the next morning, and ventures into the living room. though, he soon stops in his tracks when his eyes find the couch situated in the middle of the room.

there’s a human-sized lump completely hidden under a fleece blanket on the cream-colored sofa, surrounded by soonie, doongie, and dori, all curled up and sleeping peacefully.

doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the lump is.

you, his love.

minho approaches the couch with careful footsteps and a pretty good guess as to why you’ve resorted to being a lump for the day. the tracker app on his phone did notify him that it should happen any day now.

when he sits down by your feet, soonie shoots up with a hiss before calming down immediately afterward, upon the realization that it's just his other owner.

“hey,” minho calls softly, placing a hand on your leg. “you sleeping?”

there’s a grunt, then the lump moves. he assumes it’s you shaking your head under there.

“does it hurt?” he asks.

the lump shifts again - a nod, he thinks - but this time, it’s accompanied by a softer sound, nearly a whimper.

he sighs, because he hates to see you in pain. hates that this helpless feeling has become a monthly visitor in your home. the first two days are often the worst for you.

“i’ll be right back,” he says, and again, he doesn’t get anything other than an incoherent noise, but it’s not like he was expecting a verbal response anyway.

minho returns a few minutes later with all of the essentials that you were in too much discomfort to get yourself. your trusty heating pad, a glass of warm water and pills, your favorite mango almond chocolate, a fluffy pillow so your neck doesn’t hurt from lying on the couch for too long.

peeling the blanket off so that he can prop the pillow under your head and give you the heating pad, he practically winces when he sees the pained expression on your face. you open your eyes to find him, and you look like you're close to crying. this month must be worse than usual.

“i’ll make you something to eat and then you can take your painkillers,” he tells you.

“thank you.” the words come out weak, but minho knows you mean them.

soft lips press themselves against your forehead, full of love and an unspoken i wish i could do more for you.

“i love you. give me twenty minutes, okay?”

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki @astronomicallyyy @alm334 @lashaemorow (italicized = can’t tag)

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho #blurbs

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dixons-sunshine · 6 months

Note

Ok ok ok ok-

I've been struck with a three am idea that I cannot shake so pretty pretty please if your not busy may I request it?

It would be a Daryl x Reader were they are parents of their newborn? Probably set in Alexandria... The baby is up crying and Reader who is very sleep deprived is trying to calm the baby down but nothing is working, and at this point Reader hasn't had a solid nights sleep in a few days? Like, maybe Reader is struggling to put the baby to sleep and the crying starts to get to them and they start crying too? (Not like full on sobs but tears bc their emotional state is damaged from lack of sleep) And Daryl wakes up and helps reader? Like, tucks reader in before taking care of their newborn?

I just can't shake Daryl as a dad he woud try to be the best dad ever just bc he would be so scared to end up like his 'father' 🥺

Please and thank you very much and take care!!

Sleepy Time | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Life with a newborn wasn't easy. All of your attention had to go towards the bundle of life you brought into the world, which left you with little time to take care of yourself and even less time to get some much needed sleep. One night, while taking care of your and Daryl's baby girl, the lack of sleep caught up with you and emotions started to bubble over. Luckily, Daryl was there to take care of both you and the baby—the two most important people in his life.

Genre: Fluff, some angst.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Sleep deprivation, self deprecating thoughts, feelings of worthlessness, mentions of Daryl's father and his past abuse.

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: I'm sick at the moment and have no energy to write much, but this request was way too cute to not get done ASAP. I've been wanting to write something about Daddy!Daryl for a while now so this request is a godsend. Thank you so much for it! I hope you like this. And to the people who requested the Daryl x Espinosa!Reader and falling for the new girl requests, please know that they're being worked on. I don't know exactly when they'll be out, but they will be, I promise!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

(I gave the baby a name in this, but feel free to imagine any name you want.)

—

The moon was shining brightly outside the home you shared with Daryl. The stars were twinkling in the sky and the crickets were chirping. It was a peaceful night and everyone in the community was sleeping soundly.

Everyone but you.

“Shh, sweetheart. It's okay. Mommy's here.”

Despite your reassuring words, your baby girl, Hazel, kept on crying. Her cheeks were red from the tears she shed and her eyes were shut tightly. The sight of your baby in such a state made your heart ache in a way that it has never hurt before.

Nothing you tried could soothe Hazel of her crying. She refused to breastfeed or take her bottle, and her diaper didn't need changing. She didn't appear to be sick and there was nothing that could be hurting her physically, so you were at a lost for what could be troubling her so much. She just kept on crying.

You gently bounced her while rubbing her small back, praying to whatever was out there that you would figure out what was wrong with her. You hated the fact that you couldn't soothe her, feeling useless as she continued to wail. Her cries echoed off the walls of the nursery, the sound deafening.

You hummed a lullaby to her, a last resort in hopes of calming her down. You could feel a lump form in your throat as unwanted tears started to fill your eyes. The lullaby you were humming started sounding choked up as your throat started constricting, trying to withhold the sobs that were busy building up in your chest.

The lack of sleep was busy catching up with you. Not once did you regret your baby girl—Hazel was the physical embodiment of the love you shared with Daryl and you'd die for her—but you desperately needed a full night's sleep. You were barely functioning and that was a problem. How could you take care of your daughter when you could barely take care of yourself?

The sound of the nursery door opening instantly caught your attention, your senses on high alert. You spun around and locked eyes with the love of your life, the familiar blues of his eyes calming you down slightly. The calm you felt was short-lived, however, when Hazel's cries got louder due to the fact that you weren't humming to her anymore.

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and shut the door, quietly moving to stand beside you. Even in the darkness of the room, he could clearly see the glisten of the tears in your eyes. His heart ached for you, and if it weren't for the fact that you were cradling Hazel, he would've pulled you into a tight hug.

“Wha's wrong?” he asked quietly, putting a hand on your shoulder in the hopes of bringing you some comfort.

You sniffled and willed the tears away, hating the fact that Daryl had to see you in that state. “I don't know,” you replied honestly, gently rocking your baby back and forth. Hazel's cries started to die down a bit, and you were grateful for it. “She won't drink and she doesn't need changing, and she doesn't appear to be sick. She just won't stop crying.”

Daryl's heart broke at the crack in your voice. He wrapped one of his arms around you and brought you into a side hug, placing a kiss on your forehead. “S'alrigh'. We'll figure it out. She'll be okay.”

You sniffled again and nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder. Daryl pressed another kiss to your forehead before motioning for you to hand Hazel over to him. You obliged and carefully transfered her into his arms, your heart swelling at the sight of the father of your daughter, who was a big, burly man, carefully and gently cradling such a small human to his chest. You smiled through your tears, a sense of happiness filling you, even though you were feeling worn down and useless a few moments prior.

A small smile spread across Daryl's face as he gazed down at his baby girl. Hazel's cries had disappeared, small sniffles and the redness of her cheeks the only signs that she had been crying at all. Daryl brought his hand up to gently caress her face, before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her small forehead.

You smiled at the sight before you, but you couldn't help the feeling of failure that spread through you. You had been up for over an hour trying to soothe her and hadn't succeeded, but then Daryl came in and calmed her down in a matter of seconds. You were grateful for him and the fact that he had managed to let her cries subside, but you couldn't help feeling defeated.

Daryl gently rocked Hazel from side to side before looking up at you. He could immediately see the pained yet immensely tired expression on your face, and he frowned. He didn't know exactly what was going through your head at that moment, but he had a pretty good idea. After he was sure that Hazel's crying had stopped completely for the time being, he grabbed the pacifier from the dresser and popped it into her mouth before gently placing her down in her crib.

Daryl turned to you and offered his hand. “C'mon,” he said simply.

Confused, you grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull you out of the nursery and back into your shared room right across the hall. He tugged you over to the bed and silently urged you to lie down, which you did. Once you were comfortable, he pulled the covers over you and sat down on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Ya okay?” he asked in concern, his voice quiet as he studied your face.

You nodded hesitantly. “I'm fine,” you lied, and Daryl could tell instantly.

“Yer not fine. Wha's up?” he urged softly, leaning forward to brush the hair away from your eyes.

You inhaled sharply, debating whether or not to tell him what you were feeling. In the end, the need to get everything off of your chest overpowered, and you cleared your throat, trying not to tear up again.

“Am I a bad mom?”

That surprised Daryl. He instantly shook his head in denial, taking one of your hands in his. “Nah, course not. Why would ya even think tha'?”

“It's just... I try so hard to be a good mom but I can't even soothe my own daughter when she cries. Nothing I tried worked. She wouldn't stop crying, yet you managed to calm her down in a matter of seconds. If I can't even comfort my own daughter, what type of mom does that make me?”

Daryl sighed softly. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles soothingly. “Yer not a bad mom. Sometimes babies cry and there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it. Remember back at the prison when Little Asskicker wouldn't stop crying? It took Rick over an hour to get her to calm down. Would ya say tha' Rick's a bad dad jus' 'cause he couldn't instantly figure out wha' he needed to do to calm her?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Then stop callin' yerself a bad mom. Yer not. There's gonna be days when Hazel will want ya instead of me, and vice versa. It ain't gonna mean tha' one of us is the better or preferred parent 'cause of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling yourself want to cry all over again, but this time in relief. However, you withheld the urge and instead settled on giving him a small smile, squeezing his hand.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes starting to feel heavier. You let out a small yawn, making Daryl chuckle fondly.

“Get some sleep, 'kay? Ya will feel a lot better in the mornin',” he instructed, leaning forward to place a feathery light kiss on your forehead.

“What about Hazel?” you asked after hearing her start to get fussy again over the baby monitor Daryl had found on a scavenging trip.

“Dun' worry 'bout her. I've got it. Ya jus' get some sleep, 'kay?” he assured you, getting up from the bed to head out to the nursery.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, nodding your head. However, before Daryl could leave, you called out to him.

Daryl turned around and looked at you. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Daryl smiled softly, his heart fluttering in his chest. “I love ya too.”

With that, he closed the door behind him and made his way over to the nursery. Once inside, he turned on the little nightlight that Michonne had gifted to you when Hazel was born, walking over to the crib to pick her up. Cradling her to his chest, he walked over to the dresser to grab the still full bottle before making his way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

Daryl sat down and brought the bottle to her mouth. This time, instead of refusing it, she eagerly opened her mouth and latched onto the bottle, starting to drain it of its contents. Daryl laughed at her eagerness, holding her gently against his chest as she drank.

“Delicious?” he asked rhetorically, knowing full well that she couldn't understand what he was saying. “Bet it is.”

Hazel simply kept drinking from the bottle, her hands clutching at Daryl's shirt. Daryl stared down at her fondly, wondering how one tiny human could be so perfect.

“Ya need to go easy on yer mama, y'know?” he started, gently rocking back and forth on the rocking chair. “She might seem like it, but she ain't a superhuman. She needs her sleep, too.”

Daryl paused for a moment, simply admiring his little girl for a moment before continuing. “Yer mama loves ya so much, though. And so do I. We won't let anythin' happen to ya, little one.”

Daryl fell silent after that. He simply took care of his daughter, wondering how he got so lucky. Not only did he have the most amazing wife who loved him unconditionally, but now he had a daughter who he would die to protect. He had a family, something he never would've thought could happen to him before the apocalypse.

Daryl looked up and at the door, envisioning you sleeping peacefully in the room across from him, sleep that you deserved, before looking down at Hazel again. As he stared down at the life he made with you, memories of his own father plagued his mind—memories of his abuse and loveless nature. How he never seemed to have any sort of patience when it regarded his own son, how any sort of crying was met with a physical blow to his face.

Daryl grimaced at the memories and shook his head, willing the memories to go away. He always wondered if his father's abusive ways would be passed down to him, but as he looked at Hazel in his arms, he realised that nothing would ever make him be like his father. He vowed to protect the life he had made with you, the embodiment of your shared love for one another. He vowed to himself that he would never stoop to the cruelty his father had bestowed on him. He would be there for both you and Hazel, through thick and thin, through happiness and heartbreak, for as long as death remained away from him.

He would love the both of you until the day that he let out his last breath.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #twd daryl dixon #twd #daryl x you #daryl dixon x you

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 8 months

Note

Hii, hope u're doing ok in ur break. If the slot is till open, can i request Sir Pentious n Alastor with a dom male! reader who used to be a detective before he died?

I like the thought of Alastor being with someone who's supposed to arrest him (lol), and making him call the reader 'sir' a lot.

You Have The Right To Remain Silent... If You Can~

Sir Pentious

You slammed the serpent onto the desk, bending him over as you slid a hand down his scaly form, gripping his surprisingly curvaceous hips.

Yanking his head back by his hood, you growled in his ear.

"Where are you hiding the weapons?"

The man gasped softly, back arching as he swallowed the lump in his throat, scaly rear almost presenting to you.

"I'll never tell!" He whined, trying to pull from your grasp, only to moan as you gripped his hood even tighter, pulling him close.

You yanked his arms back, snapped a pair of cuffs onto him.

They were cheap cuffs, stuff from a xheapo store, you sure if the man tried hard enough they'd break, yet you knew he wouldn't, the man whining softly as you leant over him.

With a sadistic smile, you gripped his face, pulling him in close.

"Tell me, and this can be easy. Ooor you could resist, and I could be very, very Hard on you~" you growled, practically grinding on him.

The man simply moaned, biting his lower lip.

"So, you think you can break me?! I'd love to see you try!" He cried triumphantly, as you leaned in, breathing heavy on his neck.

You smirked, yanking on his hood as you slammed his face into the desk.

"Oh don't worry. I'm not scared to throw the book at you." You growled, leaning in close, practically purring in his ear. "But with you, snake boy... you should be careful, cause if you keep resisting imma spank you with it."

You growled, slapping his scaly "ass", Pentious moaning lewdly as he practically pushed back in your hand.

The man all but whining as you manhandled him.

You had some back and forth, Pentious declaring he'd never reveal his secrets, you determined to 'drill' them out of him, using your 'experience' on Pentious. Putting that top notch detective experience to work.

Of course you weren't too rough. You were too experienced a detective to rough him up enough to leave marks, well, to leave bad marks, you left plenty of fun marks on the man, though even then he never minded a bit of rough play.

Having the man at your mercy was always a lovely thrill, Pentious a giddy idiot when intimate, but he was surprisingly capable at theatrics when in the mood, man a damsel at your mercy.

Well, not necessarily at your mercy, Pentious was totally in on it, the man all but eager to submit to 'your authority', putting up as much of a fight as he was expected too.

You didn't get too rough, well, not physically, as you didnt wanna leave marks, not that Pentious minded marks, he just didn't want the sort you couldn't explain off.

Pinning him to the desk, you'd hold him close, kissing and suckling his delicate neck flesh, drawing a string of moans and whines from the man, Pentious moaning loudly as you suddenly bit the snakes neck.

This was hardly the first time you'd played this role, Pentious particular to a bit of power play, especially when you so naturally knew your part.

And despite the man's craving for status and power, he relished the way you dominated him, a big goofy grin across his face as you used your once lawful abilities to hold power over others, the snake fascinated with almost supernatural power you held over him, almost as much as the hold you had on his body.

And while he'd never publicly admit it, the snake loved submitting every tume you took charge.

You treated him like any other perp, cuffing the man as you... had your fun~

Pentious loved every second of it, you always sure he enjoyed it, the snake loving it when you were in power.

This was a surprisingly big part of your relationship, the two of you having a deeply intimate connection.

Pentious relishing more then just the idea of you, but the sheer dominance you could exert, the man both loving and desperately wanting to emulate your dominant abilities.

And while the sexual aspect was always heavy, he really craved to know how to dominate, you trying to show the snake just how to be more dominant.

Yet despite your abilities and attempts, the man occasionally having bouts of success, you always held the cards in your relationship.

You'd of course teach the snake many of the skills you held.

You were a veteran detective before death, and as such you knew far more about the minds of others then many Sinners in Hell, a skill Pentious desperately wished to emulate.

Of course, when not engaging in Detective themed S&M, you had a deeply romantic relationship.

Pentious, despite himself, was desperate for intimacy. The man adoring the fact he had someone to care and attend to, and you damn well knew it.

The snake was always amazed at your deductive abilities, you able to trll much about him before he even spoke, you doing your best to teach him, too... mixed results.

But despite the regular 'Cops and Robbers' routine, you also had a deeply intimate relationship, you often spending great lengths of time with the man.

You, of course, let him keep something of an illusion of control, the man allowed to build his air fleet and egg-boi army, you keeping a watch of it all, but the man ultimately free to do as he pleased.

Of course, you barely had to assert yourself to dominate the man, Pentious immediately folding any time you so much as touched him, the Serpent relishing your touch in his life, craving your affection.

You had the snake wrapped around your fingers, Pentious loving it any time you flexed your power over him, The snake loving to puff up his ego, but the man quivering if you so much as purred in his ear.

You and your 'big bad snake' shared a deep, if lopsided, relationship, as while the man relished asserting his power and status, he adored when you asserted your power over him, two of you having a deeply adoring relationship.

Alastor

Your little back and forth with Alastor was long running, the man finding you exceptionally interesting.

You were in your 'office', the man sat in a chair as you stood over the man.

"My, Mr Detective, aren't you going to read me my rights?"

You simply smirked, yanking on his dishevelled neck tie, the man biting his lip as you stared down at the man, the Radio Demon's wrists bound behind his back.

The man who was so used to getting his way, that having the man at your whim, the man at your mercy, it was a refreshing change of pace for the man.

And if you happen to play into the roaring persona of an ABU agent eager to 'question' him with some... unorthadox interrogation tactics.

"Oh don't worry, I'll make sure you know every right and wrong you've got~"

Alastor knew this song and dance, having endured such treatment when alive, something he was sure to remind you of every time you had your little 'play sessions'.

You always eager to play into the role, playing up your persona, usually with a distinct shift, either rank or position, or his Crime.

Always making sure to play into it. Hard. Relishing your 'play time' with thr man, the dapper demon seemingly appreciating your theatrics as you pressed him into a wall. Or desk. Or the back of your car.

Or over your car.

Or on that ferris-wheel that one time.

Pressing your body to his, getting closer then any man ever had, binding his wrists with his own dress shirt as you slid your hands into his belt line.

"Looks like youll be going in for some Hard Time?"

You growling in his ear, working over his lithe form, drawing out a string of breathless moans from the man.

Alastor purred, a crackle of static as his back arched, you relishing this control, always managing to illicite a moan from the man.

The demon, despite his pride, was deeply susceptible to your detective persona, the man, in an oddly reminiscent episode enjoyed reliving his mortal years, the thrill of the back and forth. And of the Hunt~

The man was witty, and smug, as he was in life, always eager for your 'play time'. Which was iron8c since he wasnt all too partial to physical contact, yet with you he adored those 'rendezvous' always eager to elicit a rise out of you, man partial to some pain.

Though even as you slammed him against your desk, flesh pressed against flesh, the man always doing his best to keep up his smug persona, his way of encouraging you to 'put him in his place'.

You had an exceptionally smug back and forth every time, Alastor exceptionally snarky, well, until you smacked his ass, Alastor suppressing a whine as you leaning in close, biting his neck.

Now, Alastor would never admit as much, but he was very partial to a good bite on the neck, the man often whining like a doe when you sunk your teeth into the man's neck. A favour he would often return, you having more then a few bloody Tshirts due to the man.

The man would often end up as a whining, mewling mess, eyes crossing as you held the man down, turning Alastor into a moaning, whining mess, utterly submitting to you when in your office.

Of course the man would never admit as much publicly, keeping up his ever smug radio persona when in public.

But when in the privacy of your own home, he'd playfully submit, allowing you to 'take charge', you usually ending up inside of him.

One way or another.

The man, despite his pride, loved your little games of back and forths, able to experience real dominance, a breath of fresh air for such a powerful demon, the dapper demon so used to being the most powerful person in the room, he received an alien body of energy every time.

Of course, your past as a detective was always a point of teasing and prodding for the man, the man loving to work you up with idiotic questions until you'd end up snapping, said snapping usually ending with him bound to a chair, missing half his clothing, his neck utterly covered in big red bite marks.

A big dopey grin on his face with his hair all kinds'ah fucked up.

You were a constant source of entertainment, as whenever you werent 'investigating' something, i.e his body, you were usually enduring his teases and taunts, the man always happy to get a rise out of you, you quickly reminding him who was in charge.

Your favourite being to bind his wrists with his own bowtie, regularly blindfolding him before having your way with him, leaving a whole myriad of new marks and scars.

Alastor liked to pretend otherwise, but it was painfully obvious he was always eager for it, even as he moaned and squirmed, back arching as he practically begged, something he desperately tried not too do, but you always managed to squeeze it out of him, among with other things~

When not engaging in sexually deviance, the two of you had an exceptionally romantic relationship, as even as he was hesitant to show real intimacy, or well, public intimacy was mostly off the table.

Of course, you'd still manage to get something from the man, usually a simple kiss, or affectionate nuzzle, a monumental achievement for anybody. One you always celebrated in your own smug little way.

And yes, he'd never reveal the inner dynamics of your relationship, something you didn't blame him for, he was as vain as you were assertive. You still shared a loving, and disproportionately assertive, relationship, the two of you loving each other deeply, adoring each other. Usually with Alastor being bent over a desk being your favourite way to show it to each other~

#headcanon #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #sir pentious x male reader #sir pentious x reader #hazbin hotel sir pentious #alastor x male reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader

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raginglesbian2006 · 7 months

Text

Who's a good boy?

Lucifer x reader

A/N: I've wanted to write a romantic scenario for my second best boi (first is Alastor, obvi) so here we go. Look at how cute he is :3

It was another day in hell, just as hellish as the day before. You couldn't complain though, having found a home at the Hazbin Hotel.

You were there at its doorstep the day the princess of hell proposed her idea on the news. Despite its bad reception, you knew you had to go visit. You had no clue why you were in hell in the first place, having made sure you were good when you were alive. So, a place in hell that was made for redemption and a chance to go to heaven meant the world to you.

Being in hell helped you get used to the manipulative and cruel sinners that walked down the streets like they hadn't just killed off a bunch of people two seconds ago.

Even though Charlie was an exception when it came to the people you'd usually meet, you hadn't expected her dad, the literal king of hell, to be such a sweetheart.

⊰──── 《∘◦♡◦∘》 ────⊰

You were with the other residents of the hotel, decorating the place the moment Vaggie got on your asses about making the best first impression for Lucifer's arrival.

You had been tasked with baking cookies. Given your affinity for the culinary world when you were alive, you started on your task right away. You pulled out the glazed soft apple cookies, your favorite, from the oven and left it on the kitchen table to rest. You stood there guarding the dish, just in case Niffty tried to take some for herself.(She did but you held her back pretty easily).

"Ok guys, it's showtime!" Charlie yelled suddenly. You rushed to the hotel lobby with your tray of cookies and stood there with the others. You wished you had more time to tidy up but your flour-caked hair and apron would have to do.

Charlie opened the door to reveal a short pale man with a ridiculously large hat. That...was Lucifer?

"CHARLIE!" the man exclaimed, wounding his arms around his daughter's frame and hugging her tight.

"H-Hi Dad!" Charlie stuttered as she struggled for breath. Once she was finally let go, she took a deep breath in and showcased the somewhat okay-ish decor of the hotel and its residents.

You saw Lucifer bend down and give his attention to the little kit "Kee Kee" and then turn his attention to "Razzle" and "Dazzle". You chuckled at his behavior. No way was the original bad boy of hell this adorable.

After his unsavory introduction to Alastor, Charlie started introducing him to every one of you.

"Annnd, this is our resident baker! They make amazing treats for everyone from time to time!" Charlie said, introducing you to her dad.

"Greetings your majesty, it is a pleasure to meet you," you gave a little bow, "I made some cookies for you to try, if you like."

Lucifer picked one cookie from your tray and inspected it for a bit, before taking a bite. You did not know whether you held your breath because you were scared of his critique or because you did not realize how gorgeous he looked up close. He was an angel, alright.

His eyes lit up and he looked up at you, "This is excellent! You really have a talent in this."

Your face heated up at his compliment and you mumbled out a small thank you.

This was your very first interaction with the king of hell.

⊱ ──── 《∘◦♡◦∘》 ──── ⊰

After the fight against the angels and the rebuilding of the hotel, Lucifer started spending more time at the hotel to help out his daughter.

While searching for Charlie, he found you bustling around in the kitchen, preparing something.

"What are you doing?"

Your head hit the underside of the cabinet at the sudden interruption. You emerged out with a whisk in hand, nursing your wound.

"Y-your majesty, I was making a strawberry rhubarb pie...well, at least trying to," your eyes glanced over at the mess that was your creation. Instead of a flaky solid crust, you ended up with something that could only be described as "a lump" and your fillings decided to make themselves known outside the crust, spreading all over your pie- almost resembling a massacre.

You were usually good at stuff like this. You wondered what you got wrong with this particular recipe.

Lucifer hummed and asked for the recipe.

"I suppose it's only best to start over, shall we?" he said, as he started walking towards where the bag of flour was kept. You could only follow behind him, your face flabbergasted. You suddenly felt very nervous.

What you would come to find out, during this little interaction, was that Lucifer was really good at baking. Like, really really good. His hands were swift but precise when handling the dough and his instructions were clear and concise as the two of you worked through the steps to create the perfect rhubarb pie.

When you pulled out a successful pie from the oven, your eyes gleamed with excitement. You looked over at Lucifer, who was already getting ready to slice up the pie.

"Thank you for helping me out, Your Majesty, " you said, giddily, "Your baking skills are honestly out of this world!"

Lucifer laughed, his smirk widening, "Well of course! Just because I rule all of hell, doesn't mean I can't bake a mean pie!"

He looked at you and said, "And please, do call me Lucifer."

⊱ ──── 《∘◦♡◦∘》 ──── ⊰

Over time, the two of you bonded over your love for cooking. He would frequently join in on your cooking/baking escapades, sometimes acting as the taste tester for your new creations. You enjoyed his presence and grew comfortable with him as the days went on. Safe to say, he felt the same way.

One day, you decided to visit him in his workshop with a plate of freshly prepared caramel apples --something Lucifer himself taught you.

You knocked on the door, announcing your arrival, "Lucifer! It's me! May I come in?"

You heard a loud crash on the other side of the door and a very distinct "shit shit shit" coming from the king of hell himself. Your brows scrunched up in worry. What was that man up to?

You were about to barge into the room yourself but you were interrupted by the door opening to reveal a very disheveled Lucifer.

He called out your name, "Welcome to my workshop! What brings you here?"

As you entered the room, your eyes gazed upon the innumerable rubber ducks that spread across the area. You almost stepped over one as you made your way inside.

"Pray tell," you turned towards him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, "What was that loud crash I heard?"

"What crash?" Lucifer chuckled uncomfortably, his eyes looking everywhere else but yours.

You sighed and placed the tray of caramel apples on his work desk.

"You do realize I've spent enough time with you to know when you're lying, yes?" you enquired.

He tsked, "Lying? pshhh, I don't lie!"

You have a half-hearted nod, clearly not believing his bullshit. He ignored your obvious sarcasm and moved closer to the delicious treats laid out on the desk.

"Oh my! You managed to make these all by yourself!" his hands reached out to one of them, taking a bite, "And they're delicious!"

You chuckled, "Well I did learn from the best, didn't I?"

His pale complexion reddened as he avoided your eyes once more, focusing more on the treat he was munching on.

You were about to ask him about the crash you heard again, but you were interrupted by a loud oink at the door.

"Fat Nuggets!" you cheered, as you got down on what little space was available to you at the mercy of the overbearing amount of ducks in the room.

You patted your knees which signaled to the little pig to come bounding towards you. You giggled as he jumped into your lap and snuggled into you.

You scratched his pinkish skin, "Who's a good boy?"

"Me."

Your hands paused, resting on the pig who let out a single oink. Your face started heating up as you looked up towards Lucifer, who was still focused on munching on the caramel apples, already having had two.

"I-I'm sorry...w-what?" you stuttered.

Lucifer turned around to look at you , mid bite. His face scrunched up in confusion, "What?"

Silence occupied the room for a few seconds, save for the pig oinking every now and then.

It was as if the light bulb popped up on top of Lucifer's big hat and his face started turning the same colour as the bright red caramel-dipped apples he was chewing on.

"I-..." Lucifer trailed off, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow his meal.

Picking up the pig into your arms, you got up. Unable to meet his eye, afraid that he would see your face flushed in embarrassment, you said, "Welp, I guess it's time for me to do..the thing I was...supposed to be doing!"

Before you could turn around on your heel, Lucifer reached out, "W-wait a minute-"

You gasped as he stepped on one of his rubber ducks and stumbled to the floor, his hat falling off his head.

"I'm okay!" he grumbled, as he got up, his hands dusting over his garments. He picked up his hat and brushed over it once, before putting it on his head. He looked towards you, confused to see your eyes trained on something lying on the ground.

His eyes followed yours and landed on a rubber duck. A rubber duck that bore a very similar resemblance to well...you.

Lucifer fumbled, picked up the duck, and hid it away from your sight,.

"Oooh boy, how did that get there, haha!" he laughed, awkwardly.

Your face might as well start boiling at this point.

"D-did you make that....for me?" you enquired, the pig already having jumped out of your hands and on his way back to his owner.

Lucifer's eyes widened as he sheepishly said, "Maybe?"

You walked closer to him.

"M-may I see it?" you asked.

Lucifer gulped once, before moving his hands from behind his back, to reveal the duck he had spent so much time working on.

You gently took his creation from his hands and held it in the palms of your own, your eyes lighting up as you looked at the mini-duck version of yourself.

"I-I promise, I wasn't being creepy," Lucifer started, "I was going to give this to you once I worked on it a little more. I know it looks a bit undone and-"

"It's lovely," your voice interrupted him.

His golden heart started beating impossibly louder at the sight of your widening smile. You were smiling...at something he made... for you. He worried if you could hear his heartbeat.

"I- I'm still not satisfied with the product, " he looked towards the floor, fixing his bowtie out of nervousness.

You let out a chuckle, "Is that what the loud crash was about? Did you fall out of your chair trying to hide this from me?"

He looked towards you, embarrassed that you'd guessed right. You laughed louder at his silent admission. Watching the king of hell squirm under your gaze as his face turned fully red, was indeed a sight to behold.

You tiptoed closer to him, took off his hat, and gently lifted his tomato-faced visage. His eyes widened as you cheekily smiled at him. Then you kissed his forehead, relishing in the way he stiffened. He was too adorable for your own good.

You stepped back, putting his hat back on his head, and placed the incomplete duck version of your likeness into his trembling hands.

"Do keep working on it till it is to your satisfaction, hm?" you said.

He nodded his head fervently. His face still held the same shade of red.

What came next was something he swore would be his undoing.

You leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, "Good boy."

It took him a while to recover from that assault.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #lucifer

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