#escaped my giffing slump for this

[daisyjohnsn]

Oh my God, we're a team?!

THE MARVELS (2023)

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART ONE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @greengableslover

‘The Prince smiled, extending his hand towards her with grace and ease.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked lowly, his eyes meeting hers with a kind yet mischievous twinkle. There was something about the Prince that made her heart flutter, that made her place her hand into his and reply-‘

The sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps and a chorus of shouting caused you to stuff the book beneath your pillows, a small panic settling over you as you quickly jumped out of your rickety bed and threw the old sheets over the mattress to at least make it look as if you hadn’t been lying in it mere seconds ago.

The door to the attic swung open, violently ricochetting off the wall and with a loud ‘bang’. You flinched, a shaky breath escaping you as you turned your gaze towards the form of your stepmother, her piercing greyish-blue eyes staring intently at you as she entered. She held her head high, the permanent scowl on her features examining every little aspect of the small space with precision. Her eyes landed on the small wooden table beside your bed, narrowing on the melted candle with the wax spilling over the sides.

“You were reading again, weren’t you?” She growled, her lips pursing in annoyance. Fiddling with your hands in front of you, you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “It wasn’t all night, Lady Worthington, I swear-“

“Nonsense, I can see the candle clear as day girl!” She shouted, a look of disapproval forming on her features. You held her stare, a small sense of guilt settling in your stomach the longer your stepmother remained in the attic. With a long and annoyed huff, she brushed he black-greying hair from her shoulder, looking you up and down with a look of disgust. “Get yourself cleaned up, and once you’re done start with breakfast. My girls are hungry, we have a long day ahead of us” she ordered, gathering her deep purple skirts and storming out of the room.

Releasing a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, your shoulders slumped in relief. You looked down at yourself and sighed, Lady Worthington was right. The clothes you wore currently were nothing but rags, and your day clothes weren’t much better. They were either oversized or too small, but you made do with the worn black and white maids dresses you were given. After getting changed and tying your hair back with a small piece of ribbon, you quickly skipped downstairs and into the kitchen.

You could hear Lady Worthington and her daughters cackling manically in the dining room, discussing their plans for the day, and how excited they were to be invited to Lady Danbury’s ball. Lady Danbury’s ball was one of the highlights of the season, or…so you had heard anyway. It had been a long time since you had seen the dear woman, you believed the last time you held conversation with her was when you were but a child. Your father, just after the loss of your mother, had taken you to one of Lady Danbury’s balls after deciding that leaving you at home would have been unwise at this grief-stricken time.

You remembered the beautiful dresses, the beautiful debutants who smiled and waved at your curious gaze. The kind bachelors who greeted you with a dance. And a young boy, hiding behind his father’s legs, his eyes following you wherever you went. Lady Danbury had been most gracious, you remember. A close friend of your mothers, almost like an aunt to you. But when Lady Worthington came into the picture and had taken control of your father’s inheritance after his passing, you were practically forgotten and hidden away from the ton. A part of you missed it, though you weren’t envious of today’s debutants desperately seeking husbands. Lady Worthington was perhaps one of the most persistent mothers out there, aside from Lady Featherington you hear.

This would be the third season that your stepsisters, Elizabeth and Mary Worthington, would participate in. They very much enjoyed flaunting themselves before the ton, given the state of their rooms with delicate and luxurious dresses and jewellery thrown about. They did not hide their wealth, rather your father’s wealth, that their mother had inherited, and bought the fanciest dresses money could buy. It had almost worked one season, Colin Bridgerton had visited to call on Elizabeth. But upon seeing how lavishly she lived, and how horribly she had treated you upon her request for tea for the two of them, the third-eldest Bridgerton hadn’t called again.

She changed somewhat after that, you recalled. She didn’t find much enjoyment in gorgeous dresses or glittering diamonds. She didn’t speak much to you or her mother anymore either, but Mary was her confidant. Sometimes she would glance at you, a look of guilt on her face, but it briefly passed whenever her sister or mother made some snide comment about your presence.

Preparing breakfast was easily done. Keeping a portion for yourself on a separate plate, you carried the three other plates into the dining room with practiced ease. Mary squealed with delight, snatching one of the plates from your arm and almost knocking the others out of your grasp in the process. “Oh thank goodness, I’m starved!” she exclaimed, hastily digging in as if she hadn’t eaten in days. You handed a plate to Elizabeth, who seemed to nod slightly as you placed the plate before her. Lady Worthington however, merely sneered as you placed her plate on the table.

You excused yourself from the room and retreated into the kitchen, beginning to eat your portion of the remaining food whilst listening to their gossip quietly. They weren’t quiet by any means, though you supposed that it was in their nature to be loud and obnoxious.

“Mother, did you hear! I heard from Cressida that apparently Lord Bridgerton is looking for a wife this season!” Mary exclaimed, her words muffled likely by the food in her mouth. You heard Elizabeth sigh heavily “I won’t believe it until Lady Whisteldown writes about it-“

“Nonsense!” Lady Worthington cried, interrupting her daughter with a squeal, “If the rumour is true than we are going to take every advantage we can get. The two of you are going to do your damned best get his attention-“

“And what if we don’t, mother? What then?” Elizabeth spoke quietly, almost timidly. You heard Lady Worthington scoff “Oh, you will. We are going out as soon as possible to find you both new dresses for the ball tonight”.

“Oh mother, how exciting!” Mary cried, you could hear the chair scrape harshly against the wooden floorboards as she abruptly stood up from her seat, “We are going to be the most beautiful women at the Ball!”

“Y/N! Help my daughters get dressed! We will be heading out shortly, and make sure that the horses are prepared!” Lady Worthington shouted, the sound of her shrill cry causing a sense of panic to surge through you.

Coughing as you chocked on your food, you quickly wiped your mouth and fixed your skirts. “Yes, right away!” You called back, sighing heavily as you rushed back upstairs. Upon entering Mary’s room, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Clothes lay on almost every inch of the floor, dresses, undergarments, jewellery. This was going to be a tough morning.

Tag List:

@ladybirdbeetle7 @sweetsourpus @in-deans-arms @blackthorngirl @kee-0-kee

@sometimesminsan @prawntoastsworld @scoopsahoyspidey @darkness-falls-xo

@reallysparklychaos @hottie-bishop-belova @riptidewaters @jay-being-weird

@khhhhjj @golden-girasol @linnygirl09 @xoxonoire @stanmixtapes

@freyagallileaevans @gracielou0518 @judig92 @rafaaoli @queenslandlover-93

@esquivelbianca @fanfictioncafe @hjgdhghoe @sillynilly27

[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: Azriel x Reader, former Lucien x Reader

🔮 preview: He had always noticed you — your pain, your anguish. You had seen him too, but you had thought he had always just tolerated you — you were his High Lady’s friend, of course. But when Azriel found out that your suffering had been due to an unfulfilled mating bond with the youngest Vanserra son, he couldn’t ignore your pain. His shadows also couldn’t ignore your pain. You noticed that the Shadowsinger started to grow closer to you, and you to him — but was it nothing but a duty for his High Lady… Or was it due to feelings that were always hidden in the shadows?

📣 trigger warnings: fainting 🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 6.6k

💜 masterlist + notes: This is a one-shot sequel to the “Nothing But A Curse” Lucien x Reader fic, but it can be read as a standalone! I needed some happy ending for my reader, and some people have wished for a fluff Azriel fic. So why not kill two birds with one stone? Also based on this little gif, just imagine how tender Az is in this fic with how he holds the reader. I do hope you all enjoy this!

A sob wracked your body, your thin form shaking due to the pain, the heels of your palms pressing onto pristine marble. The wind blew through your hair, helping soothe the nauseating feeling that bubbled in your stomach. You pinched your eyes closed as you focused on your breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

You didn’t care what was going around you — didn’t care that the reception was still in full bustle downstairs, didn’t care that you could hear the happy congratulations for the newlywed couple.

Didn’t care that the chance of happiness was ripped away from you.

You let out a shaky breath, your whole body shivering at the action as your stomach finally started to settle and your body wasn’t paralyzed due to your illness and the pain. With languid movements, you moved to attempt to sit on your claves when your body swayed, lightheadedness clouding your mind.

At this point, you didn’t care if you passed out — didn’t care if anyone didn’t find you. All you wanted was to be in peace, to be free from your pain.

But it seemed that wish couldn’t even be granted.

Cool tendrils of darkness wrapped around your middle and up your arms, steading your wavering movement. You allowed those whisps of darkness to ground you, letting out a sigh of relief — those tendrils cooling your heated skin, distracting you from the pain as you bowed your head, pressing your forehead to the cool marble.

“(Y/N)…”

Azriel.

“… I’m sorry you had to see me like this Azriel…” you croaked out, a broken and self-deprecating chuckle escaping your chapped lips.

You were found in such a compromising position that you felt the trickle of humiliation bubbled in your throat. You didn’t know whether to cry or laugh anymore — it didn’t matter anymore.

You had become so broken… so tired, that nothing made sense anymore. You had no idea why you were still on the ground like this, you had no idea why you were still in so much pain, why you still felt like you couldn’t breathe — those damned flowers that filled your lungs depriving you of the luxury of breathing. You didn’t know why you even felt embarrassed anymore… Mor, Feyre, and Rhysand had seen you in similar states — where your illness takes you. And so why would you be humiliated if Azriel sees you?

It didn’t matter anymore.

You didn’t care anymore.

Another mixture of a sob and chuckle escaped your lips as you tried to push your body to a sitting position, only for your arms to give up halfway, your form about to crumble onto the floor. Gentle hands caught your body, your cheek pressed against leathers as your body slumped against Azriel’s.

Your body pinched with pain, a grunt escaping your lips as bright hot flashes of pain burst behind your eyes. Oh, how your body ached — whether it be from being in one position for far too long, or just the echo of pain from your illness, from the unfulfilled mating bond gnawing throughout your body — you couldn’t tell anymore.

You couldn’t care anymore.

Those gentle hands, ones you could feel callouses and scars against your own, gently helped you into a proper sitting position — moving your body to sit on your bottom, your back pressed against the railing. You felt those tendrils of shadow dance against your skin, especially where Azriel’s hands lay — as if the contact between you made them swirl excitedly.

Your mind couldn’t dwell on such a thought, as another shock of pain coursing through your body, a whimper escaping your lips as your back stiffened. You felt that bellow of pain rising in your lungs, the inevitable feeling of nausea, and the taste of flowers building in the back of your throat.

You couldn’t understand why the pain and your illness hadn’t subsided — Lucien was long gone, happily celebrating with his new wife, leaving you behind.

Was it because you were still thinking about it? Was it because his scent was still lingering around you? It was hard to tell — but all you wanted was for it to stop.

Whorls of shadow slithered up your arms and shoulders, frantic in their movements, as if distressed by your pain. They slithered over your eyes, the cool feeling calming the raging ache and pound of the pain that flooded your system. Some others curled around your neck, while others remained swirling up your arms and legs, attempting to distract you.

It worked… slowly, but the pain was still there.

But when those scared hands came up to cup your cheek, the pain melted away and your body slumped against those railings, feeling his other hand gently wrap around your back, pressing against the middle of your back — as if to catch you from completely passing out.

“…Az…” you whispered his name, one that was full of relief and comfort.

There should be millions of things that raced through your head — why did your pain stop, with Azriel’s touch? Why was he so worried about your condition? Why were his shadows so attached to you?

But all you could think about was how the pain… stopped.

Your body ceased and relaxed, your lungs allowing you to breathe, gaining your consciousness back.

Eyes fluttered open, blinking away the dark spots at the corners as you stared up into hazel eyes — ones that were filled with worry, as they stared back at yours.

“…I’m fine…” you slowly comforted him, reaching up with shaking hands as your head lulled back, feeling his fingers slip around your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you gently in his grasp. You pressed your palm against his cheek, feeling his skin cool against your touch.

“…I’ll be fine…” you muttered, the same three words repeating themselves over and over again as if a mantra that you had trained yourself to tell people. You felt darkness creep at the corner of your eyes — and you were unsure if it was his shadows or your subconscious finally giving out on you.

But it didn’t matter, as you felt your body pass out in Azriel’s arms, his voice calling out to you.

“(Y/N)!”

He brought you close, shifting his body weight so he could pull you onto his lap, your body across his own, hazel eyes assessing you. He watched as your breaths evened out — not the staggard, painful gasps you were in moments earlier — but one of calm and serenity. His shadows glided over your skin, assessing you as well, as if they needed confirmation that you were anything but hurt.

Safe, she’s safe, just passed out.

She was in so much pain… so sad, so broken.

Her illness is bad… so bad.

They all repeated, crying out and wailing at how distraught you were not too long ago.

He stared at your face, calloused hands gently shifting your locks away from your face so he could gaze at your features.

Azriel could tell that your sickly complexion had worsened over the past few years. Whatever illness that has taken you, had taken away your radiance, youthfulness, and innocence. And what it had left behind was a shell of your former self — you didn’t smile to your eyes anymore, didn’t laugh with your whole heart… didn’t wear your heart on your sleeve.

You placed walls around your heart — both physical and mental. You never left your room, aside from the occasional family dinner that his High lady had all but begged you to come to. Or when his High Lord had brought you out during Starfall, insisting that you would feel better after the festivities. Or when Mor practically dragged you out of your room, hoping to help her find a good Winter Solstice gift for the family.

Other than when those three pulled you out, you had remained in your room — alone.

He didn’t know anything about your illness. It had remained a secret between those three — not even Cassian or the Archeron sisters knew what illness plagued your mind, soul, and heart. When he had asked his High Lord once, Azriel watched those violet hues darken — a protective nature radiated from Rhysand at the question about your illness.

“You will not ask about her illness ever again… All you have to know is that (Y/N) is unwell… We are doing our best to care for her.”

Was the answer that Azriel got from the High Lord. Even his High Lady shook her head lightly, begging him to think nothing of it.

He couldn’t understand why they had to protect the truth from him, he was worried for your health, for your safety. He watched day in, and day out how this unknown illness had taken away your beauty — both inside and out. He watched as your ethereal features dull, how your eyes tend to look so far away that Azriel was afraid you’d never return to the present. How you’d look at him and give him that small simper of a smile, one that didn’t shine with happiness.

Azriel watched as you lost yourself in your pain, your anguish.

“Oh (Y/N)… what kind of illness has taken you so deep in the darkness that all you know is pain?” he couldn’t help but whisper, gently caressing your cheek.

“—- A kind of illness that connects two souls in a mating bond but never to have that bond be reciprocated back…”

His shadows fled from your body, slithering away into the shadows, as his back stiffened slightly as he snapped his head over his shoulder to the threshold of the balcony entrance — Feyre.

Hazel hues looked at his High Lady, as those sapphire eyes stared at him with a delicate raise of her brow. Azriel watched those all-knowing eyes shifting from him to the female in his arms, watching them soften — worry and sadness filling those sapphire pools.

“Did she hurt herself when she passed out?”

His mouth felt dry and all he could do was shake his head. Azriel swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to regain his voice again, “—- I was able to catch her before she fell…”

Feyre’s gaze shifted back to him, “…Why were you here, Azriel? We had specifically stated no one was allowed here…”

He felt his grip on your body tighten slightly, his shadows slithering back out towards their master, wrapping themselves up your legs and arms in a soothing fashion.

“…I was not the one who broke that rule, Feyre,” he stated, keeping his voice as even as possible, even though he felt anger bubble in his chest, “Both Lucien and Elain had entered this room before I did. They had done something before I had come in… When I did, (Y/N) was already hunched over in pain.

“I couldn’t just leave her here to deal with it herself… Am I right?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, hazel eyes staring into his High Lady’s as he watched her contemplate, her head eventually shaking — a sigh of resignation escaping her lips. Feyre glanced back down at your form before she gestured with her hand for Azriel to stand up, “…Bring her back inside, she will get a fever if she stays out there for too long.”

With such a command, Azriel heaved himself onto his feet, carrying you bridal-style back inside the warmed room. His shadow slithered from his feet and locked the door behind him. They glided back across marble floors and up the bed as Azriel laid you down. Both he and Feyre watched as they wrapped themselves around you, Azriel hearing them echo softly on their wishes for you to get better, to wake up from your slumber.

“… She has a disease that kills her from the inside…”

Hazel eyes snapped up to his High Lady, eyes wide as he watched her sit at the edge of the bed, reaching over to hold your hand.

The confession was quiet but still so deafening that he felt the wind knocked from his lungs.

(Y/N)… is dying…??

Azriel looked at Feyre, hoping for her to elaborate more, trying to catch her eye. He watched as a tiny simper of a smile tugged on her lips, her gaze shifting from you to him. He could tell that she was a breath hesitant to tell your story — especially since you were sound asleep, healing from your relapse.

But all he wanted was to help — and Feyre saw that.

Another sigh escaped his High Lady’s lips before she gently caressed your hand, her sapphire hues dimming as she told your story.

“Do you remember the day, when my sisters were doused into the Cauldron? When Lucien and Elain were made into Cauldron-bound mates?”

How could Azriel forget?

That day had been emotionally and physically taxing to everyone — they weren’t able to break the Cauldron from the clutches of Hybern and the Archeron sisters were forcibly drowned in the Cauldron, taking them away from the mortal life and forced into living as immortal fae.

But he also remembered how broken (Y/N)… And no one knew why.

He didn’t know what was going on, even his shadows barely whispered what happened behind the doors of your room. Azriel wanted to help. But how could he? When he barely knew what was going on with you. His High Lord and Lady keeping everything about you a mystery.

Cobalt blue hues stared into sapphire ones as Feyre continued her monologue.

“…We didn’t know until she told us. She had kept it to herself for months until I noticed it,” Feyre whispered, her voice shaking as hands gently gripped your own, “The cauldron blessed Lucien with two mating bonds—-”

Azriel’s eyes widened.

Two mating bonds? For the Vanserra son?

“—-But Lucien only felt the one with Elain… (Y/N)… Has suffered for months from an unfulfilled mating bond. Me and Rhysand had asked everyone in secret — Helion, even Thesan and Kallias, if they knew anything of her illness… And we only found one line:

“A devastating illness that, if a mating bond is not found nor completed, will force flowers to grow inside the person’s body, slowly suffocating them from the inside. They are practically dying without your mate’s love.”

Azriel’s head spun as he tried to piece together what his High Lady had told him.

You were in a mating bond… with Lucien Vanserra, but he had only felt the golden bond with the middle Archeron sister. And because of the mating bond you had with Lucien, an uncomplete mating bond at that, you had been suffering — for months — from a rare disease… that is slowly killing you from the inside.

Azriel felt his fingers dig into the mattress, curling around the soft comforter.

“…And no one bothered to tell that bastard about his bond with her?”

Teary sapphire hues looked at his own and his High Lady shook her head.

“—- She wished for us not to tell him. She said, in her own words—-

“There is no point in telling him. He does not feel it anyway… He is in love with her, his eyes have never left hers.”

The Shadowsinger felt a pang in his chest, the whispered resignation. The fact that you had given up already without even trying.

All Azriel wanted to do was find the Vanserra son and yell at him for not noticing— your pain, the bond… for not noticing you out of all people.

And how dumb the Vanserra son was for not doing so.

Azriel had always noticed you. He had always watched you as you stood at his High Lady’s side, as her best friend and confidant.

How could he not notice you?

“… And you didn’t want to tell your family about her condition because—-”

“—-It was her choice to make. Everything was her choice. We tried Azriel. Myself, Rhysand, and Mor had tried for years to get her to open up, to tell everyone about her deathly illness. But she wanted to remain in silence… to suffer it alone. And we followed her wishes. You cannot lecture me on what I did not do, Azriel… I wanted to help her, I have been trying to help her. But her choices were her’s alone… And all I could do, as her friend and confidant, was to be there for her… To help her with the pain.”

Teeth bit into lower lip as eyes averted Feyre’s and returned to yours. Azriel watched as your chest rose with every breath you took; on how your complexion got better — how your cheeks dusted with a light pink color, blood returning into them; and how your expression was one of tranquil.

Azriel couldn’t bear to see your face contort into something so pained — to one that he had seen earlier. His heart hurt at the sight of you, hunched over in so much pain. If he had to see it again —-

He couldn’t handle it.

“… What can we do?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Feyre shook her head.

“… We’ve tried everything. No magic or potion could help her, nothing to stop the illness from killing her. It’s the damned mating bond that is doing this to her.”

“—- What if she—-”

“If you suggest breaking the mating bond, Azriel, then I can assure you we suggested that. Helion advised us not to do so… If she breaks it, she will die right there and then. It has such a strong grip on her soul, that without it, she is nothing…”

Azriel cursed under his breath.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like the fact that they were all going to sit around and do nothing, while this damned curse took your life. He wasn’t someone to be so passive — especially when someone’s life was slowly being taken away from them.

Eyes drifted to his shadows, ones that were gently caressing your arms and moving your hair away from your face. He heard their whispers, begging their master to help you — to save you from your pain, anguish… and loneliness.

His brows furrowed — why were his shadows so attached to you? There were moments in the past few years when his shadows and you interacted. Small moments when they would slide away from him, without him knowing, and they’d be wrapped around your leg or arm, laughter tugging from your lips.

Azriel would apologize profusely for those moments, and you would give him a bright smile, shaking your head.

“I like them… They’re not scary at all, they’re sweet..”

It had taken him aback multiple times — people were usually afraid of his shadows, especially those who were unfamiliar with them. And yet, you were unfrighten by the tendrils of darkness.

Every time you and Azriel were in a room, he watched as his shadows zipped through the room to wrap around your legs, earning a laugh from you. He’d look on with something pulling at his chest before it would go away when he summoned his shadows back.

The two of you would make eye contact, you smiled at him before turning away to do whatever you were doing.

As time went on, those moments would become smaller — especially after the Cauldron incident.

And now Azriel knew why.

With one last look towards you and his shadows, Azriel had a set determination in his cobalt hues.

A groan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, blinking away the darkness from your vision before you stared up at the ceiling of your room. You didn’t even know what to feel at that moment.

Your mind was just — empty.

You didn’t know whether to be sad or to cry.

Or to be angry at the Mother.

But you didn’t have any energy to do so.

Your illness to every ounce of your being.

And besides, there was no reason to do any of that… You were far too used to your illness taking over you.

“…(Y/N)…”

Your head snapped towards your left, not even realizing someone was in your room. Your hues locked onto cobalt ones.

“…Azriel…” you croaked out, your voice dry.

You attempted to sit up, your body screaming at you from your movement. All you wanted to do was flop back down, to let your bed take you; but when you felt a dip in the bed and gentle hands wrapped around your shoulders, helping you into a sitting position, your head looked up to watch Azriel’s features contort into concentration.

And you couldn’t help but let out a breathless chuckle.

“…I’m guessing Feyre told you…?” you asked him, your breath nothing but a whisper.

You felt his hand stiffen on your shoulder, and you watched as his shadows leave his side, whirling around in slight panic before zipping back onto your side, as if trying to apologize. A small smile tugged on your features as you glanced up at the Shadowsinger, who looked at you with a worried gaze.

“Don't look like that, Az…” you murmured, resting against the headboard with a sigh, eyes fluttering closed, “Everyone is bound to know… I'm not mad at you anyway…”

His hand slipped away from your shoulders, but you could still feel his presence next to you. You felt those tendrils of shadow slither up your arms and legs, gently caressing your skin.

“—- Are you okay…?”

The question hung in the air momentarily, as you tried to figure out what to say for such a heavy question. You debated — whether to tell your usual answer: I’m fine….

Or to tell the truth.

“—-No, I'm not okay…”

The impact of your answer weighs heavily in your chest, the ache of the bond and your heart resonating through your mind and body.

How long has it been since you accepted that you were not okay? How long has it been since the curse-of-a-bond that you've voiced that you were not okay?

Tears lined your eyes and you tried to blink them away. You couldn't cry, not when Azriel was in your room. You could cry in private — like you've always done.

When a tear slipped down your cheek, you reached up to wipe it away but a scarred hand cupped your cheek to wipe it away.

Your eyes locked onto cobalt ones, your breath held in your chest.

“…It's okay, (Y/N)… You can cry with me.”

The dam burst and a sob escaped your lips, your hands coming up to press against your eyelids as you cried.

Cried about the pain.

Cried about your illness.

Cried about the bond.

Cried about everything.

You felt the dip of the bed again, and gentle and warm arms enveloping you in an embrace and all you could do was lean over, resting your head on Azriel’s shoulder as you sobbed for the rest of the night.

“I don't feel like it Az…” you muttered, fingers gripping the skirt of your dress as you stood at the threshold of the gardens.

Eyes glanced up at the bright afternoon skies before they shifted to the fae standing before you, his hand stretched out for the taking.

It had been a few months since Lucien and Elain’s wedding. A few months after Azriel had found you bent over in pain from your cursed illness.

And a few months after Azriel had seemed to weave his way into your life.

Every day, since that day, Azriel had been visiting you in your room — whether to bring your meals, sit in each other’s presence, or, much like today, coax you out of your room.

You had opted to lock yourself in your room since the reception, not wanting to run into the newlywed couple who had decided to stay at the River House for now. You had desperately wished to remain wrapped in your bubble — you didn’t want to hurt anymore.

But it seemed that Azriel wouldn’t let you do that to yourself.

“…You need fresh air, (Y/N)…” he sighed, “You know—-”

“—-I can’t be holed up in my room forever… I know…” you finished the sentence for him, and you watched as a tiny smile tugged on his ethereal features before he schooled into a stern one, moving his hand slightly to indicate for you to take it.

Teeth bit into your lower lip, looking up at him through your lashes, hoping to get away from your daily dose of sunshine, but the look on Azriel’s face said everything — you were not going to get away so easily.

With a resigned sigh you reached over and slipped your hand in his and a soft smile tugged on his lips as he gently tugged you past the threshold of the large doors to the garden, pulling you close to him as he tucked your hand into the crook of his arm, like the gentleman he was. You felt his shadows slip over your shoulders, acting like a light cooling shawl in the middle of the afternoon. A soft chuckle escaped your lips feeling them curl around your form, the tendrils tickling your skin.

You were so preoccupied that you didn’t notice the soft look in Azriel’s features as he watched you with his shadows.

Another sigh escaped your lips, one of contentment as your eyes fluttered close, allowing the wind and fresh air to take over you, allowing Azriel to lead you through the gardens. You had felt so comfortable being around Azriel the past few months. It felt so natural to grow closer to him — especially since his shadows always seek you out. Your illness seemed to minimize as the time you spent with him grew — that golden bond in your chest slumbering peacefully inside of you.

As if the bond knew that Azriel was someone that you could be safe with — someone you were meant to be around.

And that confused you so much.

You had thought that the bond would sing when you were near your mate — you had hoped that it would do so when you were around Lucien; however, pain and that damned illness was the only thing that came from your wish of being mated to Lucien.

And yet, being with Azriel was much the opposite.

You were happy.

You were content.

You were safe.

You felt him pause mid-step and you tilted your head, eyes opening to look at him. Your eyes locked with his own as he surveyed you momentarily, “…I called your name a few times, (Y/N)… Are you okay?”

A smile tugged on your features and you nodded, “I’m fine… Just content right now…” You slipped your hand from the crook of his elbow and slowly moved to the nearby garden bench. Sitting down with a sigh, you leaned back, eyes staring at the bright blue skies. The sun was high in the sky and she was about to cover her eyes from the bright light when Azriel hovered over you from behind the bench, successfully protecting you.

“Thank you Az…” you hummed out and all the Shadowsinger did was give a hum.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence, allowing the fresh air to consume you. You can’t help but always be glad that Azriel makes you go outside, to bask in the sun and wind.

“It seems that you are having fewer flare-ups of your illness…” his voice reached your ears.

A hum escaped your throat, nodding as your eyes fluttered close, “I think… it’s because I haven’t been near him as much anymore…”

“—- That might be true… But what if it’s a whole different reason…?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes blinking open to look up at him; who, in turn, was looking at you intently with those cobalt hues. The silence between you, now, was suffocating. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you shifted, standing on your feet as you turned to face him.

“…What are you trying to say, Az…?” you felt your voice was shaking, your whole body was.

Azriel stepped around the bench to face you properly, his body close to yours as he looked down at you.

“What if I was your mate?”

It was as if your whole world stopped right in front of your eyes — a ringing echoed in your ears and it seemed that the world became silent. You faltered, stepping back as Azriel reached to steady you on your feet, his hand grasping your forearm.

“—…What—- What do you mean by that?”

Cobalt hues looked at you with sadness and pity, and most of a twinkle of hope resided in the depths of those pools.

“…I talked with Helion recently,” he breathed out, trying to formulate words to explain his revelation, “—-And he said that mating bonds are not all the same. Some bonds radiate and sing, so to speak, when they’re near their mates. Some bonds can be a physical connection, allowing them to tug and pull at the string. Others — and Helion thinks this is what you, we, have — enable them to feel comfortable with their mate.

“I talked it over with Feyre and Rhysand…” he gently held your hand in his, those cobalt hues looking down at him as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles before they locked onto yours. You felt your breath get caught in your throat, and you waited for him to continue, “We believe you were hurting because you thought Lucien was your mate. You felt it with your whole being, and your bond did not like that — that is where your illness came from—-”

Your mind raced. The ringing in your ears started to grow and you could barely listen to the other words that Azriel was telling you.

Your mate wasn’t Lucien.

All these years, your pain was because your golden string wasn’t tied to Lucien — but Azriel instead.

Azriel noticed your eyes were out-of-focus, and he gently cupped your cheek, watching them focus up at him.

“—… Have you noticed how my shadows adore you?”

The question brought you back, feeling those tendrils of shadow gently caress your skin, soothing the anxiety that was slowly building in your chest.

“—- They knew, (Y/N)…” he whispered, lifting your intertwined hands to press a kiss on your knuckles, “They knew we were mates… even before I knew. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I never realized… But I’ve always noticed you, I’ve noticed your pain, I’ve noticed your happiness. When your eyes with wrinkle with happiness when you laugh, or when you’d hide in your room when you’re suffering.”

Cobalt hues stared into yours, gently squeezing your hands. Your breath picked up, waiting for your illness to burst — something to wake you up from this wonderful dream. Your mind couldn’t keep up.

That all this time.

You had a mate.

“…How long have you’ve known…?” you whispered, fear in your voice.

Were you not good enough before?

Why did Azriel not tell you?

Why did he let you suffer that long with your illness?

“—-Not that long…” he said, voice desperate to have you understand, seeing your mind turn with negative thoughts, “I would have never let you suffer this long, (Y/N). After the wedding…”

You felt yourself stiffen at the memory, the pain echoed through your body.

“I couldn’t—-I couldn’t let you be in pain again…” he whispered, gently pulling you closer to him, his forehead pressing against yours. You felt his breath against your face, warm and comforting.

The shadows that were resting against your skin, swirling excitedly at the contact between the two of you. A light giggle escaped your lips at the movement, eyes moving back up to look up at Azriel, whose gaze was soft and loving.

It threw you off for a breath.

You never realized on how Azriel looked at you. You never noticed him.

But it seemed he had noticed you.

Always.

“I went looked and looked — looked for something to help you with your pain. And when Helion suggested the comfort mate bond… I hoped that was my answer. My shadows loved you, my eyes are always looking for you… Give me a chance, (Y/N)… Let me show you that I have and always will be yours…”

“You look so much better, (Y/N)…”

You looked over your shoulder after smoothing out your Starfall dress and saw Feyre standing at the threshold of your bedroom. That gentle smile on her features told you everything that she was thinking — that she was happy, that you were finally happy.

Cheeks dusted pink as a shy smile tugged on your lips, “—-I feel better, you know?”

And you were better. You started to regain color in your complexion, you started to eat better and you were often out of your room.

The pain that you were so used to, was nothing but a distant memory of the past.

And you wouldn’t exchange this peacefulness for that.

Feyre stepped into the room, gracefully moving so she stood next to you, in front of the large mirror you were standing in front of. Her sapphire eyes looked over your form, watching how Azriel’s shadows curl around your shoulders, whisps of shadow acting like a shawl that kept you protected.

“He’s protective over you isn’t he…” she mused, amusement in her tone.

You chuckled and swirled a finger around one of the shadows that hovered over your shoulder, “—-He is quite overprotective, but so are his shadows. They haven’t left my side since Azriel started to court me…”

It was true. Ever since you agreed in giving Azriel a chance, all those months ago, his shadows had never left your side. Whenever Azriel was not around (which was rare), his shadows would stick by your side, curl around your arms and legs, as if tattoos that were imbedded into your skin.

Your eyes locked with Feyre and both of you let out a laugh, the melody echoing in your room and you could feel the shadows swirl against your skin, excited of the sound.

“Are you happy, (Y/N)?”

The question was heavy — much heavier than you had expected it to be. It was simple words, and yet, it made your chest tight. You looked at your High Lady for a moment, trying to formulate words in your mind on how you felt.

You were happy.

You were content.

And most and foremost, you were absolutely in love.

Azriel made you feel as if the whole world was in your hands. He courted you slowly but surely, made you smile and laugh. He would bring you treats from your favorite bakeries and try them alongside you, bring you to Valeris and allow you to shop to your hearts content. Azriel would be content in bringing you to the gardens where the two of you would lay on a picnic blanket and bask in each other's presence with a book in your hands. He would carry you up to the skies at night, to see if you could reach the stars above as you had told him you were in love with Valeris' skies.

He made you forget any of the pain associated with falling in love. You were on cloud nine every time you were with him.

You have Feyre a smile, one that made the stars twinkle in your eyes, “I am very happy… He makes me very happy…”

Feyre let out a content sigh before she intertwined your arms together, giving you a smile, “Well come on then… We can’t keep him waiting.”

You chuckled and allowed your High Lady to lead you out of your room and down the grand staircase of the River House. There at the bottom of the staircase, you saw your High Lord dressed in all regality. But he wasn’t the one you felt your heart thump for; next to him, Azriel stood in his suit – the color a darker shade than your own. The two of them stood conversing to one another, until Feyre decided to clear her throat, causing them to turn their heads your direction.

You watched as cobalt hues widen when they looked at you, his body stiffening before relaxing. The shadows that clung to your skin spiraled around your arms and legs, showing their excitement despite the stoic nature of your mate.

Feyre led you down the staircase, until only one step was in between you and Azriel. From the corner of your eyes, you watched a please smirk tug on your High Lady’s lips as she was in her mate’s arms, Rhysand tugging her close to her side.

“We’ll leave you two alone. Do enjoy Starfall…” Rhysand commented, mirth and laughter echoing behind the two of them as they left to join the festivities on the balcony.

Cheeks tinged with a dark pink as your fingers crinkled the skirts of your dress, only to have Azriel reach and grasp your hand within his own. He gently tugged you close, allowing you to step down that final stair until you right by his side. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles, a simper of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“You look absolutely stunning…” he muttered against your lips, before placing your hand at the crook of his elbow, leading you across the hall.

You watched as he leads you away from the crowded balconies, to the other side of the River House where there was little people around. Both of you stepped onto the empty balcony, the large doors closing behind you.

You were in your own little bubble, your own little world. And all you could focus on was the man that made your heart beat wildly against your chest.

“You look handsome as well, Azriel…” you complimented him and the Shadowsinger just chuckled, pressing you against his side.

“Not as stunning as you. You’re more stunning than the stars that would streak against the night sky…”

You felt your eyes roll, and you playfully shoved Azriel to the side, causing another wave of laughter from the fae. His arm wrapped around your waist again, only to maneuver you so you were looking up at him. Those cobalt hues stared down into your own and your heart thumped harder against your chest.

“Have I proven to you that I’m yours?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against your own.

A light giggle escaped your lips, your hands sliding up his arms so you can gently cup his cheeks and all Azriel did was snuggle his face against your palm, eyes closing to feel you close to him. Your eyes fluttered close, focusing on his breathing as you reached deep within you to feel that golden string – it was calm and glowing inside of you. And you only noticed it when you were with the fae in front of you. You realized, when you were around Lucien or even just thought about him, all you could think about — despite the love you felt for him — was pain, and the burn of the bond in your chest. But with Azriel, you were calm — and happy.

Eyes fluttered open and you noticed him looking at you with so much anticipation, you smiled softly up at him.

“Yes, you’ve proven that you’re mine… But also Azriel…” You leaned up and pressed a chase kiss on his lips, “I’m yours as well…”

The brightest smile tugged on his face as he leaned down to capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss as the skies above the two of you streaked with multicolored stars. The Mother above rejoicing.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages . @strangelygreat . @honeybeeboobaa

[munsster]

hold my hand through it

A/N: oh, nothing just thinking about being taken care of by a lovely boy :( (gif creds: @keery)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Summary: Even if there ends up being someone else to turn to, he hopes you always pick him. Especially now, battered and sore and desperate. 1.8k words.

Warnings: season 4 canon divergence, canon level gore, (secret) mutual pining, a hint of best friends to.... lovers?, hurt/comfort, pet names (sunshine, honey, baby), wound/scar description

The clench of your jaw and the way you slump into the dusty cushions of the Wheeler's old couch is telltale. Steve's side aches when your hand curls over your own ribs, the fabric of your band tee wet and sticky beneath your fingers. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie filter through the thickly fogged rooms, waving their flashlights up the steps and walls in slow circles. He watches the ashen air fill your lungs, the realization splintering your face, and you'd scramble to the bathroom if you could get up.

You glance up to find he's watching you.

"Steve?" you squeak. And tears spill over the rims of your eyes, down your cheeks, wetting the corner of your mouth and the column of your throat.

"Woah, woah," he huffs, skidding to his knees at your feet and winding his fingers around your wobbly wrist, uncertainty making you ache and hyperventilate even with his soft brown eyes honeyed over the blood like antibiotic. "Hey, eyes on me, sunshine, look at me."

But you're flickering between your soaked shirt and the delicate slope of his nose, between your scrape and the forgiveness he harbors in his slumped shoulders.

"There you go," he says, "can I...?"

You nod. Lifting your arms, it hurts. Like the skin was trying to heal just to be stretched apart again. You hiss, and he cradles your wrist back down.

"Ooh, careful, honey, don't push yourself. You've been hurt enough for one night."

"Is it bad? Steve," you cry, and he looks up to find your chin wobbling. It breaks his heart. "Steve, please, is it bad?"

"No. No, honey. It's alright." But the panic sets in around your eyes, wrinkling your forehead as blood trickles across your knuckle.

"How bad is it? Fffuck, it's bad, isn't it?" There's a maroon pool, slipping through the hardwood cracks beneath the tangle of your fingers and his.

"No, c'mon, you're fine. You're good," he huffs. Your eyes slink closed out of exhaustion or fear or the fact that it's so easy. "Baby, keep your eyes open, please. I'll go find a first aid kit. Promise me you'll keep 'em open 'till I'm back."

You frown, and his heart races. You were supposed to be the one to make it out. Back to reality. You were supposed to be his forever in the real world. Not just in this fucked up, pitch black underworld. Someone must be playing a trick on him. He's gonna wake up tomorrow to the sun hot on his face and you smiling sweetly back at him, fingers combing through his hair. He blinks hard just in case.

When he opens them, you're nodding.

"I promise." It sounds so weak dribbling from your cracked lips. Steve wipes the dirt from your jaw before darting to the lower level bathroom.

He roots desperately through the cabinets, sweat pricking across the back of his neck and his forehead and his scalp and his cheeks. God, he needs a shower and to make you better and to be home safe in his bed. With you.

You take a shaky, deep breath when he reappears with a dull, blue box under his arm. He sits beside you, wincing at the constricted noise that escapes your scratchy throat.

"What've we got... gauze, yes. Bandages, yes. Antiseptic, fuck yeah. We're in business, baby. Still with me?"

You nod weakly, hissing when he lifts your wrist into his lap. He watches your face as he rips the antiseptic wipes open.

"Gonna hurt, okay?"

A strangled sound escapes you and your head lulls onto his shoulder.

"Okay, sunshine. So proud of you, doin' great," he hums, pressing his dry lips to your damp temple. You grab for the hem of his sweater when he pats the blood from your gash. He can tell you're struggling to stay quiet, muscles tense and fingers wringing. You're tightly wound, and yet, you can feel yourself losing control.

Or maybe it's more like surrender. Relinquishment of your responsibility over your own blood. And you only do it because it's so easy to let him command it. Especially when he's so gentle in cleaning your wounds, why shouldn't you share your hurt if he's so willing to bear it.

His fingers spread neosporin over the cut, which is suddenly clean and only a little irritated. You can't help but watch him, so focused on packing the cotton and tightly sealing the wound with gauze.

"Alright?" Steve hums, and god, those brown eyes deserve their own gallery. He waits for an answer, but you're distracted and pouting at the thought of him putting your hurt before his own. Everyone has scrapes and cuts and soreness from climbing and running and falling. You saw it in his limp. And yet, he looked to you and didn't hesitate to kneel beside you and tend to your open wound. "Sunshine?"

"Yeah," you sigh, more sure than before, "feels better."

"Yeah?" he chuckles, "Feels better? That's good. I'm glad." He sighs, trying not to anticipate your reaction to the next step. He knows it's going to hurt. "Let's get you changed, okay?"

You bat your lashes up at him. That's what he was worried about. You're gonna do it, but it hurts his conscience to know how much pain the process will put you through. He stands from the couch, whipping off his sweater and shivering a little at the hellish chill.

Usually, you'd made a joke about his promiscuity. Something or other about him taking it all off. Maybe a catcall or two. He honestly misses it. The silence is deafening.

"Lift your arms."

You do, wincing and grating your teeth.

"Slowly. There you go." Once your arms are sufficiently above your head, he tugs at the soaked hem of your tee. He feels bad for cringing at the state of your side: sticky and dark red, a chunk of skin missing. Thankfully, it’s not too deep, but it still makes his heart clench.

He can’t bring himself to look in your eyes, knowing the strain and suffering he’ll find. Doe-wide and pleading as he tosses your shirt aside.

“Definitely won’t be needing that anymore,” he teases, looking at the bundled up pile of blood and cotton.

“Too bad,” you shudder, “that was my favorite.”

He grins.

With your arms still above your head, he carefully fits the rest of the gauze around your ribcage, cleaning the excess grime built up around the gash. He can tell you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as he pulls your hands through the sleeves of his damn yellow sweater. You always said it reminded you of a fuzzy bumble bee, a lingering title that he bore proudly.

He thinks you look so beautiful. Even now, streaked with dirt and ozzing blood. He thinks he'll never get used to your lazy smile and how you reach for his hand even when it hurts. His heart skips a beat feeling the warmth flood back into your fingers. "Careful, baby. Don't hurt yourself."

"Okay, Stevie," you whisper. You still have plenty of wounds that need tending to, but you're glad Steve was there for you. "Thank you."

He nods like it's all second nature. Shrugs it off like he didn't just save your life.

"Know what I'm looking forward to?" Steve says. It cuts through the fog suddenly. A welcome breath of fresh air in a conversation. "French toast."

You laugh, but stop short at the pinch of your ribs.

"Shit. Didn't mean to make you laugh. Well, I mean I did, just didn't intend for it to hurt," he says, looking a little guilty. Then, he looks over at you and his stomach drops. "Honey—"

"Sorry"—you choke a little, tears pouring hot down your cheeks, leaving clean streaks through the sheen of grime—"Sorry, I don't know why I'm crying."

"It's okay, you can cry. C'mere," he hums, resting your head back on his shoulder. He catches a tear from your cheek on his knuckle, wiping it on his collar then pushing the hair from your face.

"I'm just," you sigh. "I think I'm overwhelmed. And in pain. Obviously."

He smiles, sympathy tugging at his heartstrings when you inhale sharply.

"I know." It's mumbled against your forehead, his eyes closed and his voice hushed.

...

Eight months and a couple stitches later, the scar tissue on your forearm glistens gossamer in the sunlight as you face the push-door to the Hawkins gym. There’s a low roar coming from inside; the squeaking of shoes and blaring brass section welcomes you back. Steve had asked you to be his date to Lucas’ last game of the season. You couldn’t refuse.

Steve spots you as soon as you enter, his caramel hair sweeping soft across his forehead. Free of all the sweat and blood and weight it had that twisted spring evening. Seeing you again makes his heart soar. Knowing for a fact you’re safe and healthy. It makes him sweeter on you than he’d like to admit.

You climb the bleachers to the spot he has saved next to him. He kisses your cheek, which surprises you.

“I thought we weren’t kissing in public, yet,” you whisper. Yet, he remembers. He had agreed to that, he supposes. Only after you’d both hastily shared one outside your door one night and decided it would be best to share the rest of them where the kids couldn’t tease you incessantly. He scrunches his nose, shoving his nervous hands into his jean pockets.

“Well, you still owe me a certain yellow sweater’s worth of kisses,” he teases, “Besides, I don’t think anyone noticed.” You scowl playfully up at him, nudging his side.

“I told you you could have it back!”

“Nah. Looks better on you anyway.” He shrugs. He wouldn’t take it back if it came with a million dollars cash. It’s rightfully yours. “You know what I could go for right now?”

You tilt your head in amusement. “French toast?”

“You know me so well.”

stranger things masterlist

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

The One

[Pairings]: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

[Summary]: Just a sweet movie night with your sweet girlfriend

[warnings]: none (?), my writing, sad attempt in writing fluff, not proof-read

A/N: Hey there again, fellow followers! So sorry for making you wait. I recently went on vacation and then got sick (stupid covid) but here it is!( also I'm trying out this pic-thing. is it good? or should i stick to gifs?)

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Baby?” Jenna’s soft, honey-like voice calls from the door of your bedroom, making you momentarily turn around and smile at her before going back to typing on your computer. Jenna sighs and walks over, leaning down slightly and putting her chin on your shoulder.

“What are you doing, hon?” 

You take your fingers off the keyboard and lean back against your chair. “You know what.” Jenna takes her chin off your shoulder and stands next to you, her hand replacing her chin on your shoulder. 

“Oh, I thought you had uh…..”Jenna looks up, taping on your shoulder as she thinks about the word.

“Writer’s block?” Jenna grins and nods “Yeah, I did. But…I don’t anymore.” You say, a small smile on your face. You crack your wrists and fingers before finally looking up at  Jenna. 

“That’s good to hear, baby. “Jenna smiles.”Uh, and even though I love that you’re finally writing your book again, I was thinking that we could…just cuddle and watch a movie or something?” Jenna asks, biting her lip as she looks at you.

Your eyes meet her deep brown ones and you feel a flutter in your chest before you grin. “Of course, Jen. It’s okay.” You stand up and push your chair back, groaning quietly as you stretch your legs and crack  your back which are sore and hurting after hours of sitting by your desk.

Jenna grins excitedly and starts walking out the room, with you following after her quietly. “I was hoping you’d say yes.” Jenna says to you as she reaches out to hold your hand. You soon arrive at what you call ‘Chill Room’. On the right side of the big room is a line of bookshelves, full of yours and Jenna’s favorite books. On the left is a line of arcade games that your cousins or Jenna’s sisters play most of the time when they’re over. In the middle of the room is a circle of armchairs and a table in the middle. At the end of the room is the ‘comfiest couch in the world’ as Jenna would say. 

The two of you walk to the couch and Jenna smiles as she sees the leg rest pulled out and fluffy blanket and pillows she set up prior to visiting you in your bedroom. “Because I already set it up.” You shake your head, smiling playfully at her before slumping down on the couch, your hoodie riding up from the mid of your thighs in cause of the action. Jenna giggles and grabs her laptop from the small table next to the couch and sits beside you, bringing the blanket over the two of you.

“So? What are we watching?” You ask softly, pulling the fluffy brown colored blanket up to your chin, you knees pulled up against your chest as you watch Jenna type in her password.

“I was thinking……..the Candyman. The first one” 

You snap your head to face her, noticing her already looking at you, batting her eyelashes at you innocently. “Jen! Come on! I thought we were going to relax ... .watch a good comedy and eat chips, not sit down to watch one and half an hour of gore and murder!” You whine, pleading with your eyes.

“I know, baby, But ... .halloween is coming soon and you know I like horror movies. They’re…my escape! “ Jenna bites her lip.

You sigh and shake your head. “You know, If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’re a psychopath.” 

Jenna smiles softly and giggles, which makes your heart flutter. “Is that a yes?” 

You exhale heavily before closing your eyes and nodding, but it was all worth it because the way Jenna lets out an excited ‘yes’ in victory then giggles is more than enough to make you open your eyes again and look at her lovingly as she sets up the movie.

“Done” Jenna exclaims and looks at you, seeing  you staring at her with that kind of look in your shining eyes. She blushes and places the laptop on your left and her right thigh. 

You snap your eyes away from her and blush too, looking down at the screen. She moves closer to you and wraps her right arm around your shoulders, your head falling onto her chest as you have already stretched out your legs for the laptop.

You inhale softly, her scent relaxing you as you place your right hand on Jenna’s stomach and the movies start to play. Your relaxation doesn’t last long as the opening scene plays, your heart thrumming in your chest.  Jenna giggles which makes your head shake a little.

“Calm down, baby. Nothing even happened yet.” 

Jenna’s little attempt in assuring you seemingly fails as you nod ‘Yet” Jenna just shakes her head at your response and brings her hand to your hair, playing with it to make you a bit more relaxed.

— —

After the movie ends, your head stays on Jenna’s head, processing what happened. Jenna is looking down at you with a small smile on her lips as her hand is continuously stroking your hair. After a while, you look up and blush under her gaze.

“So, what did you think?” She almost whispers.

“I’m never watching that again.” Your response makes Jenna laugh and you frown as your head shakes but it disappears when you focus back on her heavenly laugh. When her laughter dies down, she looks back down at you, your head still on her chest. And for a while, the two of you just lay there, staring at each other like there’s no one else on earth. Like nothing else matters at that moment. Only each other.

Jenna swallows thickly before leaning down briefly and kissing you on the lips before pulling back. You grin and push the laptop  off the two of you softly before sitting up higher and cupping Jenna’s cheek, leaning in and placing your lips on hers. You hum against her soft lip as you kiss, now both of her hands in your hair.  

You pull back after a couple of seconds but not too far so that your noses are touching, her breath fanning over your lips as she opens her eyes and looks into yours.

“I love you” She breathes out softly, a smirk on her now red lips.

You wet your lip subtly and your heart rate picks up further. “I love you too, idiot” 

Rolling your eyes, you lean back again and kiss Jenna passionately. 

And at that moment,  she knew it. You’re the one.

A/N: this kinda short, nah?

[ohdeerfully]

Can I request Alastor baking or cooking for reader? Maybe making one of his old mother recipes for reader while he wears a silly apron or something? I'm loving all of your one shots!

☀️ anon

short but sweet!! i made it a human al story, hope thats cool! i really enjoyed writing this one but now i want cookies (,:

btw tumblr is really lacking with human alastor gifs so sorry guys

Sweet Treat

Human!Alastor x Reader (fluff)

TW: reader is implied female but pronouns arent used/doesnt effect story much. other than that none!

join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

Alastor was always aware of your wants and desires as if the glasses he wore helped him read directly into your mind. You were tired? Okay, the bedsheets were freshly dry and warm. You were hungry? He already had a pot of aromatic food cooking in your kitchen. Thirsty? Here’s some ice water. Headache? Oh, here’s a remedy that he learned from a traditional healer in the city. 

You get the idea.

You had come home from a long day of work at the speakeasy you performed in, a hankering for something sweet filling your mind as your mouth watered at the idea of sugary goodness. You fiddled with your keys for a little, eyes slightly bleared from both a mixing of light alcohol consumption and just general sleepiness. No, those are your work keys… no, that’s to your office… Finally, you grasped your manicured fingers over the correct silver key and jittered it into the hole.

You slumped your body against the door dramatically as you pushed it open, a loud sigh escaping your lips to announce you were home. You knew Alastor was already home, seeing as his shoes were tucked neatly in the nearby rack and jacket hung up against the wall. Usually Alastor would join you when you were at work late, both to watch you perform and to walk you home, but he had been caught up with his own work and likely got home not long before you. A light smile dusted your face as you recalled how desperately sorry he sounded when he phoned you a few hours ago—it was sweet. 

Your own heels were unceremoniously kicked off in the general direction of the shoe rack—you’d fix them up later. Right now, you were mostly focused on the sound of a spoon scraping against a bowl as Alastor was doubtlessly stirring something. Your interest was piqued, and your stomach growled at the idea of food.

“Ah, you’re home a bit early,” He said as you rounded the corner, your gaze immediately fixating on the mixing bowl propped against the junction of his elbow as he stirred with his other hand. There was a plume of flour resting against the left rim of his glasses. “A bit too early for my surprise.” 

Your eyes then traveled down to the apron he wore, a black one that had a silhouette of a deer and text that read “best buckin’ cook.” You had gotten it for him as a joke for your anniversary due to his fondness for hunting and deer.

“Yeah, Ms. Ruby let me off early if I performed a couple songs in a row,” There was an eye roll as you said this. You pursed your lips as you approached him, gingerly taking his glasses off to clean the mess from the glass. His eyes held a slight squint as he looked at you, slightly unfocused without his aides. “I’m guessin’ you knew I’d want something sweet, then?”

A smirk crossed his lips as if you asked the most obvious question in the world. Which, considering how he always knew what you wanted, it kind of was the most obvious question in the world.

“What kind of suitor would I be if I didn’t know what my darling desires?” He leaned a little closer as he spoke, halting the stirring motion. His voice had dropped to a teasing husk, and your ears tingled at the hint of that Cajun accent you loved so much. It didn’t help that you were just a tad loopy with alcohol.

“And I love you for that,” You said, trying to ignore the heat in your face. You pressed the glasses back against his face, using your finger to push them up the bridge of his nose whilst simultaneously gently moving his face away from your own. “As soon as I wanted a treat I knew I’d come home to one.”

“It also helps that you always want one when you work late, love,” He mused, turning away and walking back to the counter that had a splay of ingredients. There was also a mess of flour—likely from the same incident that dirtied his glasses—but you bit back a comment. You knew he’d clean it up after.

With a hop you had sat yourself on a tall chair next to the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the cold granite top as you watched him work on mixing in the rest of the ingredients. He seemed a little nervous now that you were watching him, his stirring a bit stiff and measuring a little overanalyzed, but he kept working nonetheless.

The oven chimed when the preheating was done, and at that point Alastor was already in the process of portioning out little balls of dough. A proud smile donned his face.

“I think this is the fastest I’ve gotten to this point,” He claimed, not looking up from the task in front of him. You loved the way his brown hair fell in neat, light curls over his eyes. His glasses had begun to slip slightly down his nose, but he quickly pushed them back with a knuckle. “I nearly beat the timer.”

With an absent nod and quiet ‘congrats’ you eyed the nearly empty bowl and the discarded rubber spatula that sat nearby with velvety, doughy sweetness still clinging on the edges. You slowly raised your hand and inched towards it.

A hand snatched it up at the last second, and you slumped backwards in the chair with a defeated whine. Alastor waved it at you with a teasing grin. 

“So greedy,” He chided, although he did so unseriously. “I can’t believe you would spoil the taste before I even finished baking them… after I worked so hard…” There was a fake pout in his voice as his lips turned down, one hand on a hip and leaned against the counter behind him. You rolled your eyes in response and folded your arms.

“You know it never even tastes the same when it bakes,” You pursed your lips as you looked away from him towards the oven. You could see the faint silhouette of the cookies he had put in just a minute ago, now slowly flattening. “C’mon… Just a sample… please?” You drew out your plea, pressing your face between your hands as you tried your best to look at him with wide cutesy eyes.

It didn’t seem to work on him in the slightest, as he only looked down on you with a raised eyebrow. There was, though, a soft change in his brown eyes as his gaze swept over your face, though you were sure it had nothing to do with your current charming tactics. He was just, in all ways you can imagine, insanely devoted to you—he would tell you, very rarely as he had trouble expressing tender words, how he found you to be the most beautiful being he had ever been lucky enough to see. 

As corny as it felt if you thought about it too hard, you actually believed him when he said he would kill for you. It was something many men would exaggerate when courting, and they never truly meant it, but there was a glimmer of crazed obsession in his eyes when he had told you it one time. A look you had no choice but to take seriously—you tried not to think about it too much.

He sighed dramatically as he threw out his hand to bestow upon you… the spatula. You took it with a pleased grin and put a corner in your mouth to taste the dough. You could almost see the sparkles dancing around you as the light sweetness touched your tongue. You could see Alastor’s proud grin out of the corner of your eye but you chose not to meet his gaze and inflate his ego even more.

The two of you chatted idly about your respective days for ten or so minutes as you waited for the cookies to bake. You always had something to complain about considering the nature of your job—it was always either some drunk bonehead interrupting your show, or some drama between the other performers, or some hatred towards your employers… always something, and he always listened, equally attentive every time no matter how repetitive it was. He, on the other hand, never had much to say about his work. He was just a radio host, after all.

The little white timer finally went off, and Alastor cracked open the oven door to peek. He seemed satisfied enough with the result as he quickly removed them, gripping the pan with a small towel and carefully setting it down against the stove-top. The room was immediately filled with the warm, sweet aroma of fresh baked cookies. 

Just a few more minutes of waiting, but you could barely contain yourself when the cookies had finally cooled a bit and firmed up outside of the oven. When Alastor presented one to you it took all your self control not to just straight up bite it out of his hand. 

The cookie had a crisp, golden outside that gave way with a light crunch when you bit into it. The inside was soft and fluffy with a taste of vanilla and chocolate. You sighed loudly in glee at the experience, resting your head against your hand as you chewed.

“You really are the best ‘buckin’’ cook, Al,” You complimented, watching him as he cleaned up his mess from the process. “This recipe is new, right?”

“Ah, not really,” He admitted. You wanted to play offended at the fact he had never made these for you before, but the aura around him seemed to suddenly get a bit too serious for that. There was a vacant look in his eye, but his lips held a tender smile. You took another bite of your cookie as you waited for him to continue.

“It was one of my momma’s recipes, I actually found it today in the box of her stuff I keep,” He was washing out the dishes as he spoke. You could tell by the light glaze in his eye that he was reliving a fond but bitter memory. “She was the best baker I know.”

“If these cookies tell me anything, I would have to agree,” You were licking a glob of melted chocolate off your thumb as you spoke. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

Alastor nodded with a hum, agreeing with your statement. He told you many times before how much she would’ve loved you. You knew he didn’t like sweets, but you tried to prompt him to try one with you in an attempt to lighten the mood. He refused, as expected.

You stood from your seat and began to help him clean, much to his chagrin as he tried to push you towards your room to get ready for bed, but you forced yourself back towards the kitchen and stubbornly began rubbing the dough out of the mixing bowl. He sighed and yielded.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence that was only broken here and there by utensils clinging and water splashing. You rested your head against his shoulder as you absently ran a dry towel over the now clean rubber ladle, and he pressed a featherlight kiss against the top of your head in response.

Maybe he could teach you the recipe later.

[imyourbratzdoll]

I have a request for Lloyd fucking reader wuth random objects (perhaps with some impact play and use of kitten as petname)

Thanks doll!!

hello honey, I apologise for taking so long. I hope you like it.

summary - your husband decides to test something on you.

warning - smut, food play, impact play, spanking, squirting.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“Listen, Kitten. I’ve heard about people fucking themselves with these. So, we’re going to test it out.” Lloyd states, holding up a cucumber and spanking your glistening cunt with his other hand. You nod, unable to speak as your mouth is stuffed with your knickers. His darkened eyes move down to your cunt, and he smirks. “I don’t even need to prepare you. You’re such a slut, getting wet just by the thought of me fucking you with this.” 

Your whine is muffled, and your back arches, trying to push your hips closer, needing to be filled. Your eyes plead with Lloyd, needing him. You could feel your cunt throb with need, leaking with arousal as your eyes moved down to the vegetable in his large hands. Your heart begins to pound from excitement as he moves toward you, rubbing it against your puffy clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Lloyd moves the cucumber down to your throbbing entrance and pushes in, stretching your walls. 

“Fuck! Look how well your tiny little cunt takes it. Are you thinking of my cock, Kitten? You think you’d be able to fit both in there?” Lloyd groans, moving the cucumber back and forth as he begins to fuck you with it. The sight of your cunt swallowing the whole thing causes his cock to twitch and throb, staining his pants as precum leaks out of his red tip. Lloyd picks up his pace, pounding it into you, loving how your back arches and the little squeals that escape your mouth. “Jesus, Kitten. You’re so fucking hot.” You gasp as his hand flies down and smacks your puffy clit, smirking as your eyes disappear into the back of your head. “Are you going to cum for me, Kitten? Be the naughty little slut you are.” You nod, gripping the sheets beneath you as your back arches, hips push closer to him, and your juices squirt out of you, covering Lloyd.

Your body slumps onto the mattress, and you tiredly close your eyes. You hum as Lloyd removes the cucumber from your cunt, and your knickers from your mouth. He sticks his fingers into his mouth, groaning as he tastes you before cleaning you up and heading into the kitchen to prepare dinner. You wake a while later and walk out of the bedroom. “Lloyd?” You squint, blinking away the sleep. You watch your husband in the kitchen, humming at how good he looks.

Lloyd turns and smirks. “Hey, Kitten. It’s good to see you awake. Are you hungry?” You nod, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist as you plant your face into his back. “I’m making something real special. It’ll be ready soon.”

You hum again, taking in his smell and the food he is cooking. Your eyes move across the counter and land on the ends of a cucumber discarded to the side. “Lloyd… Did you?” 

His eyes move to where you are looking, knowing you would’ve noticed them, and he chuckles. “Of course, Kitten. You taste so good, and I couldn’t let it go to waste.” You feel your cheeks heat up, causing you to bury your face into his back. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[captainpulisic]

the rust that grew between telephones - c. pulisic

authors note: saw a video on twitter where christians parents called him a 'shy, soft spoken kind of guy' and I got really soft over him gif credit to owner word count: 2.6 k

you’re dead asleep when the phone screen begins to light up the room. you blindly reach for the it on your nightstand, refusing to fully exit your slumbered state. surely you had set your alarm clock to the wrong time last night, because there was no fucking way it was already time to start the day. you’d bet your life that you had just fallen asleep, at max, an hour ago. 

it’s okay, you try to convince yourself. it’s probably only midnight and I have many, many hours of sleep left. 

yet, as you peek one eye open, it is not your blaring alarm illuminating your screen and room. you’re met with christians contact photo. suddenly, you feel wide awake. the sleepiness and appeal to go back to bed is long forgotten, now only eager to hear his voice. 

answering the call, his raspiness indicated he’d also just woken up. you hear his low voice, “hey baby.”

oh.

oh how you missed his voice, especially as the first thing to hear in the morning. if you closed your eyes, you could perfectly envision waking up by his side. tired eyes and soft giggles, as he pulls you close to him. you feel slightly pathetic over how your heart begins to hurt. it had only been a few weeks since you’d last seen him, yet the yearning was unbearable. you missed him. you always do when you’re apart, but recently it has been worse. your skin itched for his, lonely nights spent counting down the minutes until the season would be over and he’d be coming back home. 

“hey you,” trying to sound as awake as you can, stifiling a yawn that wants to escape you. he must not realize how late it is on your end. sitting up, you pinch yourself a few times to become more alert. you manage out a somewhat energetic, “everything okay?”

“yeah, everythings okay over here.” his voice is softer than usual, sadder if anything. he pauses for a moment, you can feel his hesitation before speaking. soon enough he whispers his confession, uncertain and slightly embarrassed. you might have missed it if you weren’t hanging on to every word he was saying. “I just really miss you.” 

your heart aches even more, if possible. “i miss you, too.”

“like, really bad y/n,” he’s always struggled with properly articulating his feelings. he prefers to affirm his love for you with simple, small acts and sweet, shy touches. telling you his true feelings always resulted in him turning a blushing and stuttering mess. therefore, you know how much this must really be affecting him, for him to outwardly say this. your heart breaks as he goes on, “do you know how much it sucks to wake up and not have you right next to me? it’s horrible.”

you do know, you always feel like that in his absence. 

“i know, my love.” you sit up, trying to wipe away the weariness from your eyes. “but we’ll be together soon, yeah?”

“soon.” he confirms, it’s the only promise that's managed to keep him sane. 

hoping to keep him on the line and distracted from the ungodly hour he woke you up, you ask him about what he has planned for the day. its meaningless talk, really. he goes on about the scheduled training and new tricks they’ve been working on, occasionally complaining about the team's current slump. once in a while you hum, letting him know you're attentive to every word he’s saying. yet you’re more focused on how soothing his voice was, it was all warmth and safeness to you.

still clueless of the time, he asks what your plans are. you begin to mumble about the exams and work you have planned for tomorrow- well, for today. you too, in return, complain of how exhausted uni life has been treating you and the endless pile of assignments you can never seem to finish. 

your error is droning on about how tiring it all is, because it just makes you revert back to your drowsy state. you don’t even realize when your words begin to die off and a rather large yawn breaks loose.

“y/n? are you falling asleep?” christian frowns. he had been too wrapped up in the horrible mood he had woken up in, he hadn’t thought of the wretched time difference. “wait, what time is it?” 

“uhm,” your hesitation lasts too long for his liking. instantly, it all clicks for him.

“fuck”, he groans. “it’s the middle of the night, isn’t it?”

“no.”

deny deny deny. 

if he realized it was so fucking late, he’d send you back to sleep. that was the worst fate he could condemn you to, you were sure of it. with him training all day and the drastic time difference, moments to properly talk were rare. you weren't going to give up this precious, stolen time with him. your scarce phone calls consisted of quick recounts of what you'd both done that day and gentle whispers of how much you’d missed each other. too soon, one of you would have to hang up to either get started on your day while the other had to unwind from their day already spent. 

you didn’t care how childish you sounded, you weren’t going to let him make you go to sleep. he couldn't make you! 

“y/n.” he was much more serious, more stern. when he got like this, you liked to tease him, calling it his ‘captain voice’. that’d usually leave him with reddened cheeks and arguments long forgotten.

it comes out more of a question, then an assurance. “I was already awake?”  

“y/n.” he repeats. yeah, it was a long shot that he’d believe that. 

you mock him, “christian.” 

you hear him begin to huff out his disapproval of your childish antics. much to your dismay, another damned yawn escapes you. no point in trying to win now, you rest your head back on the pillow and accept your defeat. you sigh, “okay, I was asleep.”

he makes a noise that sounds like a mixture of a disappointed groan and a victorious ‘hmph’. 

oh my sweet boy, how I miss you. 

“i’m so sorry,” he’s sputtering out apologies faster than you can try to assure him it’s all okay. “I was dreaming of you and then I woke up and you weren’t here. I felt horrible. I needed to hear your voice before I went insane. I called without thinking, i’m so sorry I woke you. go back to sleep, please.”

your reply is automatic, “no.”

“yes.” he tries (and fails) to reason with you, “you just told me how busy you’re going to be in the morning!”

“you can’t make me!” you argue.

“y/n.”

“so i’ve been called.”

“go back to sleep,” he tries again. you’re tempted to do it just because it’s him asking you. you would do anything he’d ask of you, it's quite humiliating how you’re putty in his hands. no, you have to stand your ground. you had missed him too much and you weren’t ready to say your goodbyes. back to his shy state, “i’m now very embarrassed that I called.”

that irks something in you. you’re stupidly obsessed with him, you’d go days without sleeping if it meant you could always talk to him. the fact that he doesn’t get that offends you quite a bit. if he’s embarrassed over how much he misses you, then you should be utterly humiliated. 

“christian,” your voice comes out harder than you’d planned. “listen to me.”

instantaneously, his protest had stopped and the line had gone silent. you pull the phone away from your face, unsure if he’d hung up to make you go back to your unwanted slumber. no, the call was still connected. putting the phone back to your ear, you barely caught his faint, “yeah?”

“i’m glad you called.” suddenly, you feel as shy as you imagined he did. you also struggle to express your feelings but you’re desperate to keep him on the call, not wanting to part ways yet. “i’ve missed you terribly.”

another pause, “really?”

“I can’t believe you’d even question it,” you utter in disbelief. “of course idiot, ‘m always missing you.”

“i’m not questioning it!” all the clatter on his end of the line has stopped. you’d assumed he was getting ready to leave for training and now you were both left in silence. it takes him a few seconds to gather his thoughts and words. eventually, “i’m sorry, i’m just in my head right now. have i told you how much this distance sucks?”

“i know, my love” the urge to hold him and kiss him is borderline pathetic. trying harder to distract him from the sad thoughts and prior argument, you have to think fast. you drop your voice a tad lower. you try your best to sound as alluring as possible, “that’s why we should really take advantage of the time we have right now. c'mon, think of the fun things we could do at this late, late hour.”

you begin to mumble half-hearted details of what you had in mind, yet christian hums his disapproval.

“y/n, stop trying to seduce me.” the ‘captain voice’ reappears. “it’s only late for you and you’re about to go back to sleep, or else.” 

it’s a teasing threat. you both can’t deny the smiles you’re fighting as the conversation unravels. scolding words but you know him, this was your usual banter. 

“oh, yeah?” you counter back. “what are you going to do when you’re thousands of miles away, huh? and like i’ve said countless times, i’m not even tired!” 

“you yawned three times as you told me ‘all the filthy things’ you wanted to do to me, i’m positive you’re tired.”

“oh baby, I think you need to get your hearing checked because I was not yawning.” you scoff, scolding yourself for getting caught. your brain fumbles trying to think of a good comeback. you blurt the first thing that comes to mind, “that's just how I breathe.”

“then you’re the one who needs to go get checked because thats some weird fucking breathing.”

you snort, “has anyone ever told you how good of a flirt you are?”

“no,” he deadpans, the captain voice more present than ever.

“hmm, I wonder why. should we, maybe, try to figure out why that is?” 

“y/n,” he’s not letting you sidetrack him again. “please, go to sleep.”

you whine once more, “but I wanna keep talking to you.” 

“i know, pretty girl but you have to sleep.”

you feel yourself losing this fight. trying to find some common ground, “will you stay on the call if I go to sleep?”

christian weighs his options, “promise to actually go to sleep?”

“promise to keep talking?” you counter back.

“if i promise, will you stop answering my questions with a question?”

you force yourself to hold back your laughter, “will you?”

he laughs and you’re unashamedly proud that you’re the cause of it. you’re sure you hear him call you a ‘smart ass’ but he swiftly denies it. 

much to your delight, christian begins to tell you an in depth play by play of their last game and how he thought they could improve. half of you wants to fight the sleepiness and continue listening to his rambles, but the sane part of you begs for some needed rest. you don’t even notice when you drift off, slipping back into dreams of the next time you’ll see christian. 

meanwhile, christian chatters on, even after you’ve fallen asleep. as he gathers his things to leave, he talks about everything and nothing. he tells you about how mason gave up on learning chess within the first ten minutes of christian trying to teach him. he tells you about how he found a new restaurant for the both of you to try next time you visit. the whole drive to the bridge, he recounts funny things that had happened with the guys and the latest gossips he knew you liked hearing about. he even managed into sneaking in a few, shy ‘i love yous’. as he went on and on, he knew you’d want to hear this again, once conscious, but he didn’t mind. he’d happily repeat himself a million times for you. 

-

he’s gotten even more handsome, you’re sure of it. you hadn’t thought it was possible but here he was, in all his glory. big brown eyes and now close enough to chart the freckles across his cheeks. those stupid phone calls and banter don’t measure up to the way he’s looking at you right now.

he had told you there was no need to pick him up from the airport, that you shouldn’t subject yourself to the hassle. clearly you went against his wishes, tackling him as soon as you had sights on him. that's how you were now, pressed flush against him, arms entangled around each other with promises of never letting go. 

“hey baby,” he whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “lets go home, yeah?”

instead of replying, your wrapped arms give him a gentle squeeze. unaware of the few curious glances directed towards the pair of you, you wonder if it’s physically possible to get any closer to him. 

“i’m never leaving your side again.” you mumble, face pressed to his chest. you try to peek up a glance at him, looking away immediately when you see his heavy gaze already on you. why does he have to look at me like that? it makes me feel like i’m on fire. slightly shaking your head, “i’m serious, one day they’re going to have to pry my corpse from yours.”

his dimple is more prominent than ever, “y/n, you really need to stop trying to seduce me.”

you both laugh, basking in each other's presence. christian presses a kiss to your hair, reaffirming how much he had missed you. his left arm never unwrapping from your waist, even when you begin to walk to the car.  

it’s a quick drive from the airport to your shared home. after unpacking and dinner and intimate touches were shared, you’d found yourselves laid in bed. your head resting on his chest, your fingers were mindlessly tracing the outlines on his tattooed arm. 

christian lets out a content sigh, “you have no idea how much i’ve missed this, missed you.” 

“i missed you more.”

after the busy evening you had just spent, it’s no surprise when you see him begin to snooze off. you don’t mind, you finally had him in arms reach and reassurance that you had many days to have the conversations that had been too scant. 

 

you murmur, soft and quietly, “go to sleep, baby.”

“hey,” he barely peeks one eye open, the corner of his lip threatening to quirk up. “that's my line.”

you roll your eyes, giving him one final kiss to his bare shoulder “night, i love you.”

instead of responding, he wraps his arms around your waist and flips you to your side. you let out a surprised yelp but nonetheless, your body automatically finds the perfect way to fit with his. instantly, he pulls you close to him, leaving a delicate kiss on your earlobe. you barely hear his low, “i love you too.”

after that, his faint snores are all that is heard. you follow in his steps, eyes growing heavier by the seconds. yes, sleeping is much better when christians voice rings right next to you and not through a phone.

feedback is greatly appreciated please!

[peleksstuff]

fluorescent ll. l harry styles x bassist!reader

*gifs not mine*

fluorescent l

Summary: Months into the tour, the relationship between (y/n) and Harry becomes strained, marked by growing distance and scarce conversations. Despite the predictable routine of soundchecks, performances, and afterparties, an invisible barrier separates them. After a concert in New York, an afterparty ensues, where a forced small talk reveals the complexities of unspoken dynamics.

----

Months passed, and the tour started. The distance between you and Harry grew larger with each city, the silence between you both speaking louder than any words could. The once vibrant camaraderie on stage now felt like a well-choreographed act, the music bridging the gap that had formed between you.

During the tour, the routine became predictable. Soundchecks, performances, and the occasional afterparty. But the conversations between you and Harry remained scarce. It was as if an invisible barrier had formed, keeping you at a distance.

After a concert in New York, an afterparty was inevitable. The show was electric, the crowd's energy palpable.

The dim lights, pulsating music, and lively chatter formed the backdrop of the night. You found yourself standing alone momentarily, nursing a drink and trying to lose yourself in the music reverberating through the venue.

As you sipped your drink in a corner, avoiding the crowd, Harry approached. The fluorescent lights above flickered, casting a surreal glow on the scene.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his tone uncertain.

The uncertainty in his eyes mirrored the complexities of the unspoken dynamics between you two. You shrugged, unable to summon the energy for a protest. The small talk was forced, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

The fluorescent lights of the venue cast an artificial glow on both of you. The noise of the party drowned in the background as a heavy silence settled between you, a familiar ghost of the past.

Harry took a sip of his drink, his eyes wandering around the room before settling back on you. The silence hung between you, heavy with unspoken words.

"The crowd was amazing tonight," he finally broke the silence, the music pulsating through the floor beneath your feet.

"Yeah, they were," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of nostalgia for the times when the music had been the only language you needed to communicate.

The silence stretched between you for a moment before Harry spoke again, his eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability. "How I missed this."

A genuine laugh escaped your lips, surprised by the unexpected comment. "Missed what? The afterparties or the awkward conversations?"

He chuckled, the tension between you momentarily lifting. "Maybe a bit of both."

And then, as if to twist the knife already embedded in your heart, he added, "You know, my girlfriend back home would love these parties. She's been wanting to join me on tour, but it's complicated."

You forced a smile, masking the sting of his words, the mention of his girlfriend adding an extra layer of discomfort to the already strained atmosphere.

"Complicated seems to be a theme lately," you replied, taking another sip of your drink.

Harry's gaze held a mixture of regret and understanding. He sighed, seemingly grappling with his own internal conflicts. The noise of the party continued around you, the music pulsating through the air like a heartbeat, drowning out the unsaid words.

"I never wanted things to turn out like this."

The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored your own, but it offered little solace. The noise of the party continued around you, the music pulsating through the air like a heartbeat, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that enveloped your conversation.

You met his gaze, the flickering fluorescent lights above casting shadows on both your faces. "None of us did," you replied, your voice softening with resignation and lingering hurt.

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of the world. "I shouldn't have kissed you that night," he confessed, his words hanging in the air, pregnant with remorse.

The memories of that night flooded back— the warmth of his touch, the intensity of the moment, and the subsequent distance that had grown ever since. It felt like a wound ripped open anew, and the pain was raw.

The admission hit you like a sudden gust of wind, stealing the breath from your lungs. His gaze bore into yours, searching for a reaction, an understanding that could somehow lessen the burden of his revelation. The fluorescent lights above flickered again, casting intermittent shadows on his face, emphasizing the gravity of his words.

You took a steadying breath, trying to mask the hurt that threatened to surface. "Yeah, well, it happened."

"I wish we could go back," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible over the party's clamor.

"I wish a lot of things, too," you whispered, your gaze fixed on the dance floor. The weight of the past pressed down on you, the memories of a time when everything felt simpler and less complicated.

The night wore on, the pulsating music becoming a relentless reminder of the irreversible changes. Harry's presence, once a source of comfort and camaraderie, now carried a weight that neither of you could shake off.

"I need some air," you said, excusing yourself from the remnants of the conversation.

Stepping outside, the cool night air offered a temporary reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere within. You leaned against the railing, the distant sounds of the city blending with the muffled beats from the party behind you. The sky above was a canvas of city lights, each one telling a story of a life, a moment, a fleeting connection.

As the night faded into the early hours, the tour bus waited to transport you to the next city, and the unspoken understanding lingered. The road ahead was uncertain, and as you boarded the bus, you couldn't help but glance back at the city lights.

[feirceangel]

Imagine | First Love (Nami)

Imagine having a crush on Nami and trying to act on it.

Warnings: reader is clumsy, Sanji is your wingman, fluff

Word Count: 1,651

(Not my gif!)

There is always a certain grace that follows her every move. It's uncanny how poised and meticulous her actions seem.

You've always admired Nami for her strong personality and will, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't think she was beautiful.

The way the sun bounces off her glowing hair, her coy smile, her mesmerizing eyes. You could go on forever but you fear you're starting to sound like Sanji.

She seems so put together.

So very much unlike you.

Whereas she can speak eloquently and move with unmatched grace, you're the opposite. You stumble over your words and even stumble while walking across the ship deck.

The number of times you've felt your skin prickle with embarrassment as you fumble in front of her is unparalleled.

Just the other day, you tripped on one of Zoro's weights and face planted. You got up immediately, waving away concerns with a chuckle as Luffy pointed and laughed along with you.

Until you noticed Nami smiling along. Her smile froze you in your tracks. That's when you got nervous.

No one wants to look like a fool in front of their hidden crush.

Thinking about it makes you groan.

You're currently slumped in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea that's lost it's heat ages ago. Sanji is working away cooking supper for everyone, humming a soft tune.

You wish you could be more open like he is.

Sanji never shuts up about how gorgeous and perfect Nami is, but you can never bring yourself to match that energy.

Of course, you're never left out of his compliments. He never plays favourites. You love him for that but, even so, it is hard watching him swoon over Nami.

You're afraid that she'll realize you could never give her as much as Sanji can.

After all, you can't cook very well and you don't wait on her hand and foot. And, you're not wealthy, so you can't buy her nice things.

Another sigh escapes your lips as you stare at the table in front of you. A new mug of steaming tea lands by your hand.

"Are you okay?" Sanji asks, his voice soft, "You've been staring at nothing for over an hour."

"It's... it's nothing. Just tired," you say, sitting up straighter to take the hot mug in your hands.

"Really?" He says, voice full of disbelief.

You nod, knowing your words would betray you.

He frowns slightly, resting his hands on his hips. You feel bad that he's concerned about you, but no one on this ship knows about your feelings. And you're not about to tell anyone.

Sanji turns around, towelling down a freshly washes pot, "It's about Nami, isn't it?"

Your jaw drops at that question, eyes wide.

"How'd you know?!"

"Ah, so it is," he chuckles.

A frown plants itself on your face.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," he reassures you. "It's just, I want to help you."

"Help?" You're confused, "Don't you like her too? Doesn't that make us love rivals?"

He glances over his shoulder, "Don't be silly, I love you both but not that way. Besides, I have my eye on someone else."

His confession throws you off.

All this time you thought he'd be mad about your crush on Nami and now he's saying he isn't even interested?

"Really?"

He hums a yes.

You take a moment to soak in this new information. Sanji has way more experience in romantic things than you do, so advice from him might be useful.

"So, what should I do?"

"Everyone expresses and shows love in their own way. I can't tell you what to do."

As if sensing your disappointment, he continues, "But I can tell you that you should go for it."

"What if she hates me?"

"She could never hate you," he shakes his head, "If anything, she'd respect you for saying something."

"You think so?"

He smiles, "I really do."

You return his smile. Surprisingly, his advice was solid.

Not what you had expected.

You had been expecting a lecture on how to do everything for her and shower her in gifts/affection.

This advice is something you can work with. A bit of a confidence booster to lift your morale.

Now you just have to act.

~

If you weren't so clumsy, this would be much simpler.

You started the day by getting Nami her coffee while she gauged the weather and heading of the ship.

It would've been perfect, if you hadn't stumbled on the stairs leading up to her.

So, instead of a lovely cup of coffee, she got a spectacle of you collapse in a puddle of said coffee at her feet.

"Are you okay?" She asked, staring down at you in concern.

"G-good morning Nami," you bypassed her question. You started to gather the pieces of the broken mug, "I wanted to get you coffee, but, uh, I dropped it."

She smiled gently, "I can see that. Do you need help?"

"Nope! Nope I got it. Bye!"

Obviously that hadn't gone in your favour.

Fast forward a bit, and you’re fishing with Usopp and Luffy. On a day when you don’t have much else to do, you often try your hand at fishing. Sometimes you luck out and catch something.

This time, your hook snagged on an old treasure chest. A small one, but exciting nonetheless.

You clutched it close to your chest so that Luffy and Usopp wouldn’t steal it and crack it open themselves. You called for Nami to see and she ran to your side as soon as she heard ‘treasure chest’.

“Look what I got, Nami!”

Beaming with pride, you broke the rusted lock and flung it open to reveal a small handful of berry and a pair of angry crabs.

Your nose scrunched in disappointment as Luffy cheered, “Sanji! Cook these!”

Your captain grabbed the animals and raced to the kitchen, Usopp close behind him.

Casting a glance at Nami, your dour mood lifted a bit seeing her laugh as she sorted through the berry.

“Sorry, Nami. I was hoping there’d be more than some angry old crabs,” you sighed.

“Y/n, don’t be so hard on yourself! Maybe next time you’ll be luckier,” she grinned as she dumped the seven berry into your hand.

“Oh, you can keep those,” you shook your head.

She tilted her head to the side, “Really?”

“Yeah, I want you to have them,” you smiled, “You deserve them for all the work you do.”

Nami looked away after accepting the coins back into her hand. You might have been mistaken, but you could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of pink dusting her cheeks.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

And now you’re here, in the kitchen once again. The blond cook isn’t here, surprisingly. You’re okay with being alone right now though.

A soft knock makes you lift your head off the table, “Yeah?”

Nami is standing there, in a gorgeous blue bikini with her ginger hair down on her shoulders. You can’t help but smile at her.

“Hey, Nami!”

“Y/n, come suntan with me,” she says, grabbing your arm to drag you out of the kitchen.

“Sure,” you grin.

You often suntan with Nami when you’re in need of rest or some down time. Being underneath the hot sun and next to the hot navigator is always a good time.

“Just let me get my swimsuit on!” You race to your room and get changed before finding Nami outside.

She’s lying on her back, looking peaceful and elegant as ever. She looks up and smiles at you as you approach.

“Y/n! Sanji is making us some drinks,” she grins conspiratorially, “It didn’t take much to convince him to bring us snacks too.”

“Sweet,” you settle down on the lounge chair beside her. “Sorry again about the coffee.”

“It’s alright, Y/n. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

You nod, heart swelling with affection.

Just then, Sanji appears carrying a tray of goodies. He passes your drink to you with a flourish and does the same for Nami.

���Nami-swannn,” he singsongs, “Don’t you think Y/n-chan is looking absolutely divine today?”

You flush with embarrassment. What is he up to?

To your surprise, Nami replies back, “Y/n always looks divine, Sanji.”

You feel like your jaw has dropped straight to the floor. “Do I?”

She levels her gaze at you and beams a smile, “Of course!”

“You always look wonderful too, Nami!” You manage to speak over your giddiness. You cannot believe that Nami thinks you’re pretty! “Your hair looks like sunbeams right now.”

“You’re sweet,” her smile is short-circuiting your brain.

You didn’t even realize that Sanji made himself scarce.

“You know,” she adds. “I was happy you thought of me this morning. And when you found that treasure chest.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest like a frantic tap dancer.

She notices your silence and turns to fully face you. Slowly, she reaches out a hand and entwines her fingers with yours.

Your heart skips a beat before you give her hand a slight squeeze.

Is this really happening?

“I like you Nami,” you blurt out, not at all eloquently.

She smirks, “I like you too, silly. You know you don’t have to buy my love, right? I don’t like you cause you have money, or you do things for me. I like you because you’re you. Kind, caring, badass.”

Tears form, prickling your eyes as she speaks such kind words. She tightens her grip on your hand, “Be my girlfriend?”

You nod, unable to contain your happiness as you sniffle, “Yes!”

She leans over and places her soft lips on yours. You move your lips against hers, not caring who sees. You’re lost in the moment of the first kiss of your relationship.

The first kiss of many.

[pappydaddy]

take care of you (j.m.)

a/n: i decided to try out not using gifs bc it seems to be a thing of the past? so i decided to give it a go!

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: jj is sick, but doesn't want to admit it. luckily, y/n will always be there to take care of him.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @taurusvic | @moralina | @verystarfishflower | @4dr1ana | @adr1an4 | @instabull | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @444lyra *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: being sick | nearly fainting | use of dayquil mentioned

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

____

  JJ didn’t like to feel weak. He hated it. Hated weakness in general. Luckily, it wasn’t very often that JJ felt weak since he escaped the hostile environment of his dad. Now the feeling of weakness only came when: him and his girlfriend were having a particular finically hard month; he is in a situation where he can’t help or protect his girlfriend (or himself if she’s not there); when someone who has power over him is on a power trip; and (dreadfully) when he is sick. 

  However, one good thing about JJ, he’s resilient inside and out. Meaning: he rarely gets sick. In fact, he so rarely gets anything that he is borderline cocky about it. Arrogance that could rival a surgeon and their god complex. But, much like those surgeons he could rival, he isn’t untouchable like his girlfriend keeps reminding him (out of concern).

  “JJ, you’re sick,” She stressed as she followed him around their apartment, hands trying to steer him back into their room. “You need to go to bed, not work a night shift.” 

  JJ was supposed to be getting ready for work, but she was insisting he needed to go back to bed. “I am fine, Y/N/N,” He sighed, obviously not hearing how congested he sounded. Also obviously blind to the angry redness of his nose. “Just a little sniffle, probably just from when you were sick last week.” 

  “You’re not fine, you were shivering all night and when I left this morning. This is your stubbornness and adrenaline talking,” She pointed out. “Besides, I had a fever last week so if you did catch whatever I had, that would mean you are sick enough to stay home tonight.” She was half out of her office clothes, her heels kicked off at the door, the first few buttons of her blouse unbuttoned, and her bra thrown on the back of the couch carelessly. Her summer internship was really driving her up the wall with the dress code, but she needed it in her resume for grad school. 

  “I am fine, Y/N, trust me-“ His words were cut off when he suddenly slumped himself against the doorframe of the bathroom, his hand flying up to his head, eyes squeezing closed. 

  “JJ,” She exclaimed, rushing the short distance over to him. “You need to lay down.” She urged him, slipping past his leaning body to stand in front of him. 

  “It was just a dizzy spell, it’s fine,” He waved her off, trying to push himself off the door frame but he instantly latched onto it again when he started to sway. “It will pass in a minute-“ 

  “No it won’t, J. And even if it does, what happens when you get a dizzy spell at work tonight and nobody else is there to help you? You’re the only one working a night shift tonight.” She reminded him, grabbing his shoulders and slowly guiding him to turn around. 

  She was met with little resistance and she knew he was giving up the fight. As she guided him into their room, he weaved and stumbled, but she did her best to support him but working on construction sites and fishing boats has increased his muscle mass significantly. “Fine,” He relented, flipping down on their bed, eyes closed and sprawled out haphazardly. “But only to make you feel better, because I feel completely fine.” He still held strong. 

  “Yeah, you seem to feel completely fine, Bub,” She hummed with a roll of her eyes. As quickly as she could, she covered him in the comforter before laying two extra blankets on top of him, noticing the shiver to his body. Standing straight, she went to tell him something but she cut herself off, hearing the snores start to build. He always snored louder when I was even remotely sick. “Get some rest,” She whispered, placing a kiss on his searing forehead. “I’m glad he gave in before getting dressed for work.” She sighed, grabbing a blanket for herself from the chair. Nabbing her book, she settled down on the foot of the bed, her head resting on JJ’s leg as he snored away. 

____

  She didn’t plan on falling asleep, she wanted to make sure JJ was doing okay - especially since he was showing signs of a fever. But, unfortunately, the work week had drained her more than she realized and soon she was out like a light without even realizing it. Even now, as JJ stirred awake the next morning, there was a weight on one of his thighs, making his illness-riddled brain confused. 

  His eyes fluttered open, blinking away the blurriness to see Y/N curled up, head resting on his leg, the blanket pulled up to just under her nose. Even in his sickness, he had to coo at her, noticing the mountain of covers and blankets she had on top of him - knowing she was trying to take care of him. The book lying face down on the bed haphazardly told him she tried to stay up to watch over him, but fell asleep instead. 

  “Sweets,” He croaked, his throat aching in red hot irritation and his nose so stuffed his eyes were watering. He shifted his legs, his sinuses hurting too much to sit up fully (or lean forward). “Y/N.” He spoke again, nudging her with his leg. 

  Groaning, she finally started to stir, opening her eyes and slowly assessing her surroundings. “Hey, Bubs,” She hummed, her voice thick with sleep. “I wanted to get you some medicine and a drink for when you woke up, but I fell asleep. I’m sorry, J,” She apologized, pushing herself up to rest on one hand. “How are you feeling?” 

  “I’m sick.” He admitted. Instantly, she was up, fussing over him. The only way for JJ to admit that he was sick was to be so sick that he couldn’t function. 

  “Hang on, Bubs. I will grab some DayQuil and be right back, hang on.” She stressed, rushing around the room in a flurry and she tossed pillows and blankets at him, before rushing out the door into the kitchen. Even with his plugged ears, he could hear her rushing around, cabinet doors slamming a little harder than she anticipated. 

  When she came rushing back into the room, she held a cap full of orange DayQuil in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. “Shoot this,” She handed him the plastic cap filled with her ‘miracle medicine’. “Chase it with this, then once that kicks in, I will have breakfast ready for you to eat.” She urged him to take the medicine.

  He relented, tipping his head and the liquid back. No matter how many times he takes that stuff, he is never prepared for the taste, but almost instantly, his chest felt more clear. Pulling a face, he grabbed the orange juice, chugging it in an attempt to smother the taste. “Ugh. Even with basically no ability to taste, I still taste that shit.” He spat before blowing his nose, hoping to be less stuffed up. 

  “I know, Bubs, but it really helps clear you up for a few hours, we just have to try to stay ahead of it.” She encouraged, collecting the cap and now empty glass. 

  Just as she nearly crossed the threshold into their bedroom, he called out to her in a nearly gone voice. Looking over her shoulder with a hum, she waited for him to speak. “Thank you for taking care of me, even when I was too stubborn to realize I was sick.” Over the years, JJ has grown quite a bit (mostly thanks to Y/N) and he can, now, admit when he is wrong - sometimes. 

  A soft smile graced her face. “Of course, J. I will always take care of you.” She reminded him, but he already knew that. They always take care of each other. They have to. They’re fighting this world together.

[thesetrashimagines]

You’re a Curse Baby Pt.9

A Jujutsu Kaisen Imagine (reader insert)

Warnings: mentions of suicide/self sacrifice, fighting,

GIF IS NOT MINE!

Pt.8

AN: Hey guys.....so it's been 3 years....my life has completely changed since I started this fic and I'm very sorry to have paused it for so long. But I've had the urge to get back into writing. This will be the last part of the series that follows the OG storyline. I'll be going off-script and into a new timeline written by me😈. Hope y'all are ready for a new chapter (and hopefully not too many slow updates) sorry for the extreme authors note but you deserved to know lmao.

“You still okay back there?” Gojo jostled you, neither of you have spoken for quite awhile. The storm overhead was mostly gone, nothing but an overcast left to show your mood. You wordlessly nodded against his shoulder. “You wanna tell me what’s been going on?” He turned to take the path that led back to the old shrine. “I figured out how to exercise other curses.....along with myself.” The white haired man’s step faltered, “That patchwork curse, he can manipulate souls and since I can touch souls and go through memories, I thought maybe I could also manipulate souls. I was able to make contact with his soul and during our fight I could feel our energies merging so I started to use my energy to exercise him.” Gojo stayed quiet as you spoke, “He had a strong grip on me so I decided it would be best if I killed both of us. It was easy, all I had to do was turn our cursed energy into life energy and then let our souls slowly dwindle.” The older man stepped over pieces of the broken temple. “But you were unsuccessful.” You nodded against his back again.

“Yes he has much more experience with souls then I do, he was able to pull away.” You let one hand go back and rub at your sore eyes, “After the mission my body was weak, probably the weakest it’s ever been. I tried to heal myself and repair my soul at the same time.” Gojo spoke, “That doesn’t sound very smart.” You slumped against his back, “No it wasn’t. My body couldn’t take the constant rise and fall of my energy. Every piece of my soul that came back, my cursed energy doubled, and since I was using it to also heal my wounds, it would fall back down to a low level.” You looked over to the old broken temple, “I thought it would be okay since I knew I’d be here, the less energy the less I’d be detected.” Gojo slowed to a stop and turned his head back to you, “And?” You stared back at his black blindfold, “I pushed everything down, my energy came back tenfold and tore through all of the walls I put up, it made me panic and I ran into the woods outside of the event. I bumped into some low grade curses, they had me trapped and unable to move so I did the only thing I could and let my energy free again. I might’ve accidentally started a fire.” Gojo laughed and placed you on your feet, “From what I seen and heard, you’ve caused a few fires.” You looked at your hands sheepishly, “Yeah...” The sorcerer watched as your eyebrows pinched together, “But that’s not when I lost control.” Your hands shook, “My emotions....that curse said that it was there to kill you and hurt everyone else. I couldn’t stop myself from feeling scared, then I got angry, so angry.” Your voice became small and quiet, “I wanted to kill them. I was so blind with rage I almost-” Your hand smack over your mouth as a sob escaped your lips.

Gojo watched as guilt and shame over took you, your sobs echoed throughout the forest as you crumbled to the floor. It was obvious you felt bad for whatever had happened. “What did you almost do Y/n?” Your hands planted themselves on the ground as you leaned forward, tears fell from your eyes and drop to the soil, little wet patches spotted the dirt. You heaved and hiccupped, Gojo went to your side and sat down, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I almost- I almost killed Yuji.” Your resolve had completely broken, the storm had come back loud and unforgiving, the rain fell to the Earth in fat droplets and thunder rumbled. To Gojo’s surprise there was no lightning dancing across the sky, had you exhausted yourself? He turned his eyes back to you and saw your hands covering your face as you cried, small purple tentacles played on your skin and hopped from tear drop to tear drop that rolled down your hands and arms. He looked at the hand he had on your back, the little sparks flitted about, halting themselves before getting to close to his skin. He finally understood.

“You’re scared of yourself.” His words caused you to curl further into yourself, “You didn’t kill Yuji, he’s fine.” Your head shook violently, “Gojo I almost killed him!” You finally turned to look at him, your face was wet with tears, eyes almost grey in colour and rimmed red. The blood and dirt on your face was close to being gone from your tears and constant rubbing. “But you didn’t.” Your face scrunched up and your hands lifted into the air, “Don’t you understand?! I almost killed him! I almost took his life away! Again! They were right, I’m a monster, a good for nothing curse!” Your head dropped back into your hands as you continued to ramble,  “He tackled me to the ground and I thought I was getting attacked again, I almost hit him...” You clenched your eyes shut, “His eyes, he looked at me with so much fear, he was scared of me...” The first flash of lightening darted across the sky.

“You didn’t kill him though. You were able to stop yourself.” A hand grabbed onto yours and pulled them away from your face. “And from how I saw the two of you were after the fight, I would guess he understood that you were acting on instincts.” Gojo tilted his head down to try and meet your eyes, “It’s normal to act on instincts, that’s kinda what they’re made for.” When you didn’t react to his little quip, he knew you were still shaken. “What if next time I can’t stop myself?” Your eyes fluttered up to his. “Do you want to hurt Yuji?” Your eyebrows furrowed, “No.” A smile spread on Gojo’s face, “Then you don’t have to worry about that.” He leaned back on his hands, “It’s a good thing I have my infinity on,” You looked up and realized how dry he was compared to you and the surrounding area, “Or I’d look like a wet rat like you.” You sniffled and smirked. A hand came down to your shoulder, “Don’t sell yourself short Y/n, You’re stronger than you think.” He groaned a little as he stood up.

“You may be a curse but there is a streak of humanity in you.” He bent at the waist, “How bout we train after the exchange event? Hm? Just you and me.” A small smile graced your features, “Okay...” He straightened up with a shout, “Alright!” The sun peered back down over the forest, glistening off of the rain drops. Gojo turned and started to walk away, “Come on baby curse, we still have an event to finish!” He put his arms behind his head as he walked forward, you dawdling on behind him like a baby duck. He wasn’t worried you would snap, you were too worried about keeping him and the others safe and happy. He knew why you were constantly trying to please him, you were created on the feelings of abandonment and among many other emotions but he knew you would do anything to stay with him and his students. You were loyal and you would rather die then you break it. Yes you were a ticking bomb at times but nothing like a few words helped you calm down. The bond and trust you had with Gojo and his students was incredible. Gojo knew of your attachment to the them but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he was a little attached to you too.

-----------------------------------------

“So how is it possible that you get along with a gorilla like Todo?” Nobara nibbled on her pizza. “Well the two of us got along but it was like, I mean I do remember everything but it feels like I wasn’t exactly myself at the time.” Megumi looked uninterested in Yuji’s and Nobara’s conversation, his eyes drifted over to you where you sat off to the side staring down at your lap. You haven’t said a word or moved since Gojo came in and placed you in the chair, something was obviously bothering you but Megumi wasn’t sure how to ask.

“What do you mean? Were you drinking?” The girls voice brought him back to reality.

“You seriously believe I could’ve been drinking liquor in a situation like that? That would’ve been insane.” Yuji turned his attention to Megumi, “Anyways I’m just glad your injuries weren’t too serious Fushiguro, to your health and this pizza.” Yuji took a large bite from his slice while Nobara had another small piece. The dark haired boy looked between his friends, “You guys could’ve brought me something easier to digest.”

“No complaining.” Nobara spoke with her mouth open.

“Apparently I got off easier because my cursed was all gone and Ieiri was able to fix me up as soon as the roots were removed.” Megumi saw your ears perk up at the mention of his injuries. “Oh so that’s what happened?” Yuji swallowed his food. “You should know, you fought against them too didn’t you?” The pink haired boy nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Itadori,” Megumi turned to Yuji who paused with his mouth open midbite, “You know you’ve grown a lot stronger. Before we both said that we stood by our convictions, I still think that’s true. But then on the other hand you could we’re both wrong about all of that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Megumi saw you turn you head slightly towards him, dimly glowing grey lilac eyes watching him. “Some question don’t have any answers,” Nobara placed her face on her palm, “Don’t think so hard, you’ll go bald.” Megumi sighed, “You’re right. I know it’s just a matter of trying to accept it.” He looked down at his bedding, “But why accept something you don’t want, only weak sorcerers do that. So I’ve decided,” His dark eyes met Yuji’s brown ones, “I’ll surpass you.” Yuji let out a laugh, “You never change.” Nobara looked at the two boys annoyed, “Did I get left out of the conversation again?”

“I don’t think it makes you weak.” The trio turned to look at you, “Wouldn’t not knowing the answer make you strong? Since you are constantly looking for it, wouldn’t that make you brave? Or that one word, um...courageous?”

Nobara let out a bit of air, “Why does the curse always sound so wise.” You all laughed a little.

“There you go, that’s my brother and his friends for ya.”

You let out a yelp and fell off your chair, Todo had shown up out of nowhere at the end of Megumi’s bed. Yuji shot out of his seat and ran for the door, Todo hot on his tail. “Wait where are you going brother? Wait hold on!” The two sprinted, “Look I’m grateful for you but come on, give me a break!” Yuji jumped onto the roof.

-----------------------------------------

The sun beat down on you as you sat in the dugout. “I can tell somethings been bothering you.” You tore your eyes off of Yuji and looked at Megumi in surprise, “I mean no one was okay after that fight but it seems like there’s something else going on with you.” You glanced down at the white baseball uniform you were forced to put on, “I feel like I betrayed everyone.” Megumi tried not to let shock cover his face. “Before the exchange event I did something I never thought I could do....I almost exercised my own soul.” Megumi’s eyes widened this time, “What do you m-”

“In the moment I thought it was the best plan. Afterwards though my cursed energy was extremely low, I was barely alive. The healing process was difficult, I was using my cursed energy to heal myself and try to repair the damage I had caused to my essence. I guess the constant use of my energy to heal and for my soul to regenerate was too much for me, it was like being in a tsunami, one minute the tide was low and then the next my senses would flood and every wall I put up was being destroyed.” You took a deep breath, “The days leading up to the exchange event I buried everything down and decided I would try to deal with it later but when I was in those woods...” Your mind wandered back to when you were almost consumed by the flower curse, “I ran into some curses outside of the perimeter and I was trapped. Since I buried everything, I could feel all of it pushing against the blockades, it was like I was the storm this time.” Megumi watched you pick at the fabric of your shorts, “I lost control...” Your fingers gripped the white fabric, “Then I lost it again when I was fighting that curse. I was so angry, so filled with hate, all I felt was kill. Kill, kill ,kill, there wasn’t another thought in my mind. They wanted to hurt you, Gojo, everyone and I couldn’t let that happen.” The dark haired sorcerer stared at you for awhile then ruffled your hair, “You’re okay now, we all are. You were able to pull yourself back and that’s what matters.” You swatted his hand away which made him chuckle. He and Gojo had said the same thing, you were able to snap out of it and that makes you strong. Even with their encouraging words there’s still a looming fear that sits at the back of your mind. What if you can’t stop yourself next time? You never want someone to look at you in fear, like Yuji had, ever again.

“Kugisaki snapped! It’s a free for all!” Yuji’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

------------------------------------------

You were playing outfield, furthest away and closest to the tree line. The first few plays went well but then there was another home run. Hit straight into the forest behind you, of course you wanted to win so you ran as fast as you could into the woodland. You could just see the ball soaring through the sky, smacking into leaves so hard they detached from the branches and fell to the ground. Your neck strained as you stared up at the flying sphere, you were right underneath it but then your sight was filled with brown then green then blackness. Your foot throbbed just a tiny bit, lifting your head up from the ground you noticed a tree root had tripped you up. Letting out a groan you pushed yourself up, "Stupid tree." Standing you looked around the forest for the ball. There was no sight of the white sphere.

"I lost it..." Pouting, you continued to walk around the trees in search for the baseball. In the distance you could hear leaves rustling, thinking it was someone on your team you called out, "Hey! Did you find it?" Running towards the noise, you pushed some branches out of the way and ended up in a small clearing. The sun peaked through the treetops and shined down on a large mass hunched over. It had large shoulders, the flesh stretched over muscle, the bones of its spine poked out from under it's skin, it's thighs were as large as you were, maybe even bigger, covering it was tattered pieces of a dirtied pink fabric. From where you were standing you couldn't see it's face, it's hunched over form obscured whatever you might've seen of the front of its body.

At the sound to your voice, the creatures head shot up. Long dark brown hair flinging around wildly before settling on the creatures big shoulders. It didn't turn towards you, just sat on its haunches, back stiff straight. A small voice came from the creatures direction, "What's wrong Mama?" A little pale blue boyish face peeked around the creatures large knee. Big round eyes gawked at the sight of you, and just when you made eye contact, the little boy disappeared behind the creature again. "Mama someone's here." The young voice wavered a bit. The long brown hair shifted forward and fell down as the creature looked down at the small boy then the creature let out a chuff and whined. Clenching your hands tight in nervousness, you spoke, "I'm sorry for scaring you, I promise I'm not here to hurt you. I've lost a ball and I need to find it." The large creature flinched at the sound of your voice and curled it's massive arms around, what you could only assume, the little boy in front of it. Despite the grip on the boy, he managed to wriggle to his way above the large forearms and looked at you again. "This ball?" He raised his small hand and in it sat your baseball. You nodded, "Yeah that one! You found it! Could I have it back?" The large round eyes filled with tears, "But I don't wanna give it back." The boy started to cry causing the creature to swaddle him and, for the first time, you saw the creatures face as it threw a glare over it's shoulder at you. She had a light brown eyes, a large brow bone which was furrowed as she glared at you, a button shaped nose, and a pair of pink lips which were set in a deep frown.

You swallowed, "Oh, um....I'm sorry but I need the ball to play my game" The little boys blue image fazed out and reappeared out of the large creatures arms a couple feet away from both of you. The small boy had a giant smile on his face as he let out a laugh and waved the ball in the air, "If you want it, then you're gonna have to catch me!" And with that he turned and sprinted in the direction you came from. You threw a quick glance towards the creature and she stared dumbstruck just like you did, both of you in disbelief over the child's rebellion. You looked back to where the boy once stood and made the realization, "he's running towards everyone..." The creature next to you whipped her head and stared at you wide eyed, she knew what you meant, the boy was running to the field, with all of the humans. In a second she was gone, her large form lumbering through the trees and shaking the ground as she went. You didn't wait too long after before you also took off to catch the boy.

"Wait! Please! They'll see you!" You yelled ahead hoping the creature and the little boy would stop, but neither of them did. If anything, the little boy ran faster. The creature let out a loud vocalization, something between a yell and a grunt, you assumed it was her way to communicate with the boy that he should listen and stop running. "It's dangerous! Please I just want the ball back!"

"No! Your stupid ball is mine!" A childish giggle sung out into the woods.

You groaned and doubled down on your speed. Your body ached a bit from the excessive use it had already been put through, but you knew if this boy or his 'Mama' were seen by any of the sorcerers, they'd be eradicated.

You could see the edge of the treeline coming up quickly, the creature in front of you must've seen it too cause she pushes off her haunches and leeped forward, grabbing the small boy and skidding to a halt. You caught up to them, you and 'Mama' huffing. "Please, please can I have the ball back?" The little boy wriggled and started whining, "No! Mama let me go! I wanna go!" His little feet dangled in the air as the creature held him above the ground. "Its dangerous out here, there's people who'll make you go away, forever. It's not safe to run around in these woods." You tried to reason with the little boy but was not having it. "You're lying! You're just saying that so I give you the ball back!" Once again his corporeal image fazed out of the space, the creature let out a loud yell as she turned 360 for her little blue boy.

"NA NA NA NA YOU CANT CATCH ME!"

Off in the distance, out in the baseball field, stood the child spirit. The cursed creature put a fist into the ground to push herself forward but you were faster.

"There you are Y/n!" Yuji's voice rang out as you broke out the treeline and ran straight towards the boy. Everyone stared as your knees hit the ground and curled your arms around an invisible body. You ignored everyone as you could feel the ground shaking from thundering steps. You let out the tiniest bit of energy to tether the little boy to you.

A loud yell is heard behind you, so close your hair flies about from the air expelled. Mama was not happy. "I've got him! I've got him, look, look" You turn and show the cursed creature the little boy in your hold.

"Y/N!" Multiple foot falls start approaching you. Whipping your head around you see Yuji rushing over to you. "No! Stay back, everything's okay!" The creature raised a fist and slammed it into the ground next to you, the little boy curled further into your arms and started to wail, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I just wanted to have fun....I never get to play with anybody!" His little body shook with the tears and 'Mama' only got more angry. Her large fist was raised and ready to strike you, seeing as now you have officially become a threat. But before she's able to strike, Yuji is able to slide between the two of you and punch her. "Yuji don't!" You gasped as the creature stumbled backwards. Yuji advanced, "Don't attack her!" Your arms tightened around the little boy as his cries only grew louder.

"MAMA NO! MAMAAAA!"

You unwrapped one arm from the boy and shot a purple bolt out, aimed at Yuji.

‐-------------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

Hey, how y'all doin'?😗 so ye, here part 9. I'm so sorry if it's shit and not the updated you wanted. I've had a huge change in my life and writing quickly got put on the back burner. I really am hoping I find the motivation to continue and finish this story. Let me know you liked this chapter! Much love <3

[girl-next-door-writes]

Thank you @kjs-s for this fabulous gif of my favourite ginger general. 

He was in an impossible situation. Standing on the bridge, surrounded by his superiors and subordinates, you kneeling before him, he knew what he had to do, but it broke him to do it. 

“General, you must execute the traitor.” Pryde’s clipped tone broke through his thoughts. It was clear he was being observed, his own life hanging in the balance if he failed to act now. 

Armitage couldn’t look at you as his hand rested on his blaster. You were his only friend, the one person who had been by his side through everything, the only person who knew he was the spy. 

It had all happened so fast. He had been about to be discovered and before he could do or say anything, he heard you confessing. In that moment his whole world fractured. You were willing to die for him? Knowing that, made him being the one to kill you almost impossible. 

His hand shook as he pointed his blaster at you, his bottom lip quivering as his eyes met yours. 

“It’s okay.” You mouthed to him, still protecting him even now. His mind raced, fighting to find a way out of this. 

He tensed his jaw and pulled the trigger, watching you slump to the floor. 

“I will dispose of the body.” He said coldly, bending and gathering you up in his arms, totally numb. 

As he walked towards the medical wing, you took a great gasp of air. It startled him so much he almost dropped you. His brain registered that you weren’t dead and immediately he bustled the two of you into an escape pod where he stared at you through his tears. 

“Told you it would be okay.” You gave him a shaky smile, unbuttoning your shirt to show the armour beneath.

“And if I’d shot you in the head?” He asked incredulously, still not quite believing his eyes.

“I was banking on you not wanting to mess up my pretty face.” You grinned and he pulled you into a tight hug. Armitage had no idea what would happen next, but he knew that he was not going to let you go. 

[bowieandqueen11]

The Mausoleum / Klaus Hargreeves Imagine

Not requested but wanted to write some comfort for poor Klaus and also give me some more practice writing again!

Warning: some strong language!

(I do not own the Umbrella Academy or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @capinejghafa.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘Are you sure this is such a good idea?’

Ben’s timid voice warbles out from beside your ear, but you’re too busy shoving half-wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into your knapsack to really pay attention to his hesitancy. You raise an eyebrow at him and he sighs in return, looking dolefully down at the bottle of chocolate milk he hands to you.

‘If I don’t go, how much longer do you think Klaus is going to last out there? This is the third time this week dear old daddy dickhead has locked him out there, and each time he comes back he’s even quieter than the last. It’s starting to scare me Ben.’ The young boy who should be far to young to already know the horrors of which you speak swallows thickly beside you; his left hand gives him away as it unconsciously reaches up to grip at his pyjama top, nails digging into the meat of his stomach. The other hand grips onto the frame of the kitchen chair and squeezes until his knuckles burn white. ‘I know. It’s scaring me too.’ 

You make to go, but before you can turn towards the stairs Ben has desperately taken a step forward and grabbed onto your bicep. With a fear-stricken face, he tries and tugs you back towards the dim mothy glow of the open fridge light, nearly knocking a jar of mayonnaise onto the floor with the effort. ‘But Y/n, dad will kill you if he catches you sneaking out there again! He called my bluff the last time you went down the fire escape, and he swore till he was red in the face if you did it another time he’d lock you away and I’d never see you again!’

You could the tears beginning to swell in Ben’s eyes as he began to tremble, his fingers jumping in a mixture of fear and overwhelming resentment as you placed one of your own tenderly on top of it. ‘What the hell am I going to do if you go? It’ll be so lonely here without you, I might as well be a ghost with how much the others just look through me.’ He wipes the back of his nose with his sleeve and looks deploringly at you, begging you to just stay and come back up the stairs into the safety of bed. But you can’t do it. You just can’t. 

‘Something happens to him out there Ben, and if Luther won’t do something to stop it, the least I can try and do is make sure my brother doesn’t have to go through it alone.’

He knew it had been a slim chance, but he was disappointed all the same. He just nodded, finally letting you go and your arm fell back down to your side with an unceremonious slump. ‘Hey, if I do get kicked out, you can just bribe into using his powers to help you come and see me!’, you joke in an attempt to try and cheer your brother up, but he just rolls his eyes and turns his back to you, beginning the long chore of cleaning up the plates and knives you had used to make some snacks for Klaus. You sigh, running up behind him to surprise him with one final tight hug round his back, before turning on your heels and heading straight for your bedroom window.

It didn’t take very long for you to hear Klaus’ screams once you had clambered down the very rusty, very rickety looking ladder attached by rusting screws to the outer wall of the Academy. They were faint at first: jagged and piercing as they scattered across the white marble tombstones like weak moonlight. You shook your torch, swearing indistinctly at it as the thin beam began to flicker across the tangled weeds and unkempt dirt that scraped across your angles. Trying to swallow the nervousness that was starting to crawl its way up your belly and into your throat, you gave it a final slap against your palm: just in time for it to fully illuminate how close you had wandered to an angel statue on the edge of the lot. Nearly walking into its stern, moss coated nose, you yelp as you take a stumble back onto the thin stretch of cobblestoned walkway that leads to the mausoleum. With a hand on your heart, you double over and take a second to try and recapture your breath - a second that is cut short by the sound of a shriek of pure terror that seemed to be echoing around the finger scratched walls of the crypt.

You run the rest of the way, no other thought or care in your head except the need to reach Klaus before something unimaginably terrible happened.

‘Klaus - Klaus, it’s me! Can you hear me? I’m right here, hold on a sec!’ You slide to a halt, wincing as you skid through the dirt and slam your shoulder into the imposing bars lining the crypt door. Trying to shine your torch through the sliver of gap left between the door and the frame, you barely manage to make out the blur of tufty hair as you squint.

‘Y/n, please! PLEASE! Please help me!’, he sobs, scratching at the hinges of the door and heaving between his cries. You hear a thump against the metal; Klaus’ voice reverbs from further towards the floor, alerting you to the fact that in his desperation to escape, he’s probably injured himself by falling onto his knees. 

‘PLEASE. Make them STOP! Y/N!’ He’s full on blubbering crying now as you try with every pounding fibre of your being to inch the door further and further open with your telekinesis power. Becoming frustrated at the slow progress, you try to help it along by clawing at the handle of the door yourself; you lift one booted foot to the door and heave backwards, nearly flying onto the crusty top of a grave as you tugged. Klaus joined you, the last bit of energy he had left being used to flatten his palms against his side of the door and push, before being followed by a few dull thuds and the sound of frantic scraping of fingernails.

Except for your grunts of effort, and one last ear-splitting shrill from Klaus, the night seems to settle into an even more uneasy quietness. A cold solitude settles over your back and sends goose bumps shooting over your muscles as you continue to work alone, praying the quavering zombie moans coming from behind the locked door aren’t the sound of Klaus joining the dead.

You nearly cry in relief when the heavy door finally swings backwards, flooding the shrouded room with clouded starlight. For a second, Klaus seems to have forgotten it was you looming like the boogeyman on top of the steps. He shivers, emitting a broken yelp as he cowers into himself and squeezes his eyes shut tighter, the tears beginning to burn into his skin. 

Jumping down the stairs, you don’t even care that you nearly twist over your ankle as you come skidding to a halt next to your inconsolable brother. Even when you place your hands on your shoulder and come kneeling down next to them, they seem to heave like dying gasps against the darkness, trying to shove you off of him. ‘Klaus, Klaus, it’s me - it’s me! It’s not Reggie, it’s me, it’s okay.’ It takes a few goes to try and get past his ducking head as you reach round his fingers and unclasp them from his face. He refuses to open his eyes until you manage to cup his cheeks, turning him quite abruptly with a heartfelt impatience towards you. They feel damp, and cold, so very cold against your fingertips, and yet it’s the most welcome feeling in the world when you begin to detect the hints of warmness: of life in his soft cheeks too.

‘Y-Y/n?’ He sniffles, and you feel your heart cleave in two as he musters all his courage to blink open just one eye at you. When he finally seems to come to his senses, you wouldn’t have been able to claw Klaus Hargreeves off you even if you had a thousand years and the weight of a million men. He tumbles head first against you, knocking your hands back into a pile of crunchy, dry leaves as he leaps his arms around your neck and nestles his head there too for good measure.

‘Please- please don’t leave me here. They won’t... they won’t stop screaming.’ You can feel his hands fist into the back of your blazer. ‘I want to go home.’

‘Oh Klausey’, you start to card your fingers through the back of his hair, the two of you so wrapped up in just gripping onto each other for dear life that you don’t realise he’s crying into your shirt - the wet patch that soon will give your evening activities away to Sir Reginald Hargreeves. For the moment, those thoughts are far in the recesses of your mind; you bump the side of your head against Klaus’ ear, and use your free hand to rub up and down his back as his stifled whimpers begin to wind down into sniffs.

‘We’ll go home soon, once the sun comes up.’

‘And you’ll let me sleep in your room again?’

‘Do you really even have to ask?’ 

He seems to calm down at that: his breath evens out into long sighs, his vice around you loosening until he’s able to pull slightly back from you and look into your eyes with his own blood-shot ones. He even does his best to try and smile at you, a sudden tired relish shuddering through his heart at the realisation that there was actually someone in the world that cared about him. That loved him. And that he loved more than anything too. The sudden fear that grips him at the thought of you ever going away from him was enough to distract him from the ghosts for a moment; instead he turns his efforts into reaching out and gripping your fingers with a forlorn frown.

‘And we can hide under the blankets again?’

‘Old Reggie will never find us there, Klaus. Or the ghosts. You’ll be safe with me forever, I promise.’

[kairiscorner]

Hiii I'm Back >:)

What about a Noir x fem reader where they go on a date/hanging out but Peter is like abnormally horny and the reader is oblivious LOL.

HELLO AGAIN @sabcandoit!! okay this one is a pretty silly one :>> SURE THING LMAO (don't ask why i used the same gif, he just looks so funni)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

"dearest..." peter called from behind you as you were busy preparing dinner. he wrapped his arms around you as he nuzzled his head against the crook of your neck, peppering kisses against your neck and cheeks. you giggled at the display of affection from your dearest as you kept washing the vegetables at the sink. "yes, dear?" you asked him, entertaining him without turning around, with a sweet smile on your face.

peter placed his hands on your waist and chuckled. "why, aren't you just so..." he trailed off as he rubbed at your sides slowly, smiling against your cheek all slyly. "aren't you just so lovely tonight?" he asked in a seemingly innocent voice, but it spoke with different intentions, intentions that were anything but innocent. you chuckled at his compliment and leaned into his relentless kisses. "and aren't you just so handsy tonight, pete?" you say with a slight giggle as you pulled away from his touch to get a few utensils you needed to make dinner.

peter followed you to the other side of the kitchen, thinking you were doing this to play hard to get. luckily for him, he knows how to play your game like the back of his hand. he chuckled to himself as he wrapped you in an embrace yet again, his grip tightening around your forearms to keep you from escaping or doing anything at all, really. you playfully rolled your eyes. "peter..." you said in a fake annoyed tone. he kissed the back of your head as he asked you, "what, love?" he went back to kissing your neck up and down, and soon, began kissing your shoulder and breathing heavier as he looked up at you and smirked. "peter." you repeated in a more serious tone as you set down your utensils and leaned against his touch.

peter thought he would finally convince you and give you what he's longed to give you in a while, finally, he'd be able to have you all for himself tonight. he chuckled and grinned mischievously at you. "yes, my loving spouse?" he asked in a sing-song voice as he put his chin on your shoulder. "i'm cooking." you promptly said, which disheartened peter and made his grin disappear from his face. "but..." he tried to convince you to keep the mood, which had already been shattered, keep going--but you just weren't getting the hint. you giggled as you pulled out of peter's loosening grip. "i'll make your favorite tonight, peter. that's probably what you've been doing, buttering me up for earlier." you said with a giggle, thinking you figured out exactly what peter wanted. but no, you couldn't be any farther from the truth.

peter retired to the living room, slumping down on an armchair as he sighed. he wanted to light a cigarette, take a long drag and hope that'd make his... urges go away. and so, he got up and off the armchair and lit his cigarette when he was finally out at the veranda. "peter, dinner's ready." you called out to him, and he turned around. to your dismay, he was smoking. but he swore he'd only smoke one cigarette, and only if he really felt like it. you sighed. "what's wrong, pete?" you asked as you approached him. he took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out, letting it fall to the ground as its ashes spread and made a small mess.

he ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and looked at your concerned face. he tried to smile, but it came off quite forced. "nothing's wrong, dearest. i just... i wanted to... do things with you tonight." he said as he took your hands and rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, admiring how smooth your skin felt, how right your hands fit into his own.

you tilted your head to the side. "but wasn't your whole show for me tonight enough? i made your favorite, you had your way, we did things tonight and i loved it. did... you not--"

"no, no, love, it's... it's more than just hugging and kissing that i want." he said as he placed his hand behind your head, and you brought your head up to look at him in the eyes. his eyes told a different story, a story of a man who longed to please his wife and satiate his own needs. he rubbed his thumb against you cheek, and with his smile and expression softening, he leaned in closer to you. "and i still really want it, love." he said as you leaned closer to him, getting the scent of burning tobacco in through your nose as he breathed against your skin.

and in an instant, you finally understood what he really wanted from you, what he needed from you. you connected your lips with his and wrapped your arms around his neck. as you two forgot about your dinner and made out at the veranda, you were planning on so many things to do with peter that night. and that'd only be the beginning, you had to make up for all the hard work he's been doing trying to get your attention, and wouldn't you be just excited for that?

a/n: SORRY IF IT SUCKS, i'm not very experienced in writing this kind of stuff for noir, but i hope you like it :'>> TY FOR THE REQUEST THOUGH !!

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @connors-cumslurper @maxoloqy

[thatfanficstuff]

Can we pls get a Peter x reader x Chris pls with this gif I love these stories like my favorite of all so if we could get a fix based off of this gif it would be great (when u have time and are comfortable)

One of my favorite trios. Sorry this took a bit. Took me a minute to figure out what I wanted to write. Also, typo of the day: She cared the shit out of me.

Apologize

Peter Hale x Reader x Chris Argent

Warnings: no?

You were curled up on Peter’s couch leaning against his side as a movie played on the TV. You couldn’t say you were watching it. Instead, you kept running through your argument with Chris and wiping away tears as they escaped to run down your cheeks. You’d already made it clear you didn’t want to talk about it any longer, nor did you want to be fussed over, so Peter kept his arm around you and ran his thumb along the bare skin of your arm in a comforting gesture. Occasionally it was joined by a kiss to your head.

You’d been there nearly three hours when someone pounded on the door making you jerk in surprise.

Peter sighed and kissed the top of your head again. “Stay here.”

You shifted positions so he could get up. You anxiously chewed on the end of your thumb as he opened the door. There were only a handful of people that knew where Peter lived so it almost had to be Chris. Hopefully, he wasn’t still angry with you.

“Can I help—” Peter cut off as Chris pushed his way into the apartment.

He looked upset. Good.

Okay, that was mean, but at least you weren’t suffering alone.

Chris had turned to look at Peter as he entered so he didn’t notice you. “I can’t find her anywhere.” He raked a hand through his hair while Peter scowled at him. “I fucked up. I didn’t mean to yell at her, but she scared the shit out of me. You have no idea how close she was to losing her head. Literally.”

That earned you a glare from the werewolf.

“So your solution was to tell her to quit trying to help before she got someone killed?” Peter asked, his attention back on the hunter.

Chris flinched. “Yeah, well, it sounds bad when you put it like that.”

You frowned. “And how else would you put it?”

He snapped around, his eyes going wide when he saw you. Immediately he was across the room and on his knees in front of you. He grasped your hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I am so, so sorry, baby. I just can’t lose you. I don’t think I’d survive it.” He glanced at your other boyfriend. “You didn’t think to tell me she was here?”

Peter smirked as he took his seat next to you. “Oh, I thought about it. Then I decided against it.”

Chris’s shoulders went tight with irritation. You tugged on the hand he was holding to get his attention. “He had to watch me cry. It didn’t hurt you any to run around town for a while.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed immediately with a nod of his head. He lifted your hand and kissed your wrist this time. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it. You are far more help than you probably realize. I just want you to be safe. I was mad at the situation and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You studied him for a moment reassuring yourself that he meant the words. Finally, you pulled your hand from his and stood. His shoulders slumped as he believed you were rejecting him.

You placed your hand beneath his chin and tipped his head backward to press a kiss to his forehead. “Stay. Watch a movie. I’ll get the popcorn.”

He grinned and when you went to kiss his forehead again, he shifted so your lips met his. You lost your footing when he tugged you into his arms and you found yourself back in your seat on the sofa. After a moment, you pulled away with a soft smile.

Peter rolled his eyes as he stood with a smirk. “Just stay here. I’ll get the damn popcorn. I need a drink anyway.”