#sorry i'm bad at tone and that sounds mean but i do genuinely like it.

[tenmartha]

pleases give us the 'the girl who waited' essay. this episode tries so hard to show amy/rorys love when its really about the doctor and amy

every episode that tries to be about amyrory is actually wholly about amy and the systems that confine her.

i really enjoy the glimpse into amy's psyche that we get. like so much of her characterization is based off of being the girl who waited, and certainly at this point in the season she has expressly shown her worship of the doctor that borders on religious fervor at times. so it is so heart wrenching to see what she becomes when she is betrayed by him in a way that she can't rationalize or romanticize.

the way that we, as the viewer, have to watch experience first hand from old!amy and then from the doctor is so fascinating. like we see how horribly amy's life has been wrecked bcos of the doctor, and then suddenly we're in his point of view again and none of her pain matters, because he controls all of it. he can fix it by altering her timeline, so the 36 years that amy waited becomes. collateral. and in the end he won't even choose between "his" amy and the amy that he made suffer.

idk i don't really have a point here its just so interesting. they put my girl in the torture labyrinth.

[stormberry-12]

sunshine and sarcasm // P1: oh god, it talks? ~ lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x fem!introvert!piastri!reader

warnings: slight language, creepy guy.

notes: Let me know if I should make another part, wasn't really sure if I wanted it to end here. Also, ignore that the timeline doesn't line up... xxx

You walked through the bustling paddock in search of the bright orange garage-

Sorry, papaya.

Your older brother, Oscar, had his face and race number plastered above the overhead door. It was the Australian Grand Prix and your entire family had been invited to experience it in person. You actually didn't even live in Australia anymore. You had been working out of the country for many years, perfecting your craft and experiencing great opportunities outside your hometown. So this early pop-up to free practice was surely a surprise for Oscar.

"Y/n/n?"

"Osco!!" he crushed you in a hug.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work, mum wasn't even sure you'd make it for the race Sunday-"

"I wanted to surprise you," you grinned back at him, "If I can only make it for one race a year I want to experience the whole shebang! Even the practice sessions,"

"Oh mate, I'm so excited!" Oscar exclaimed, with the most enthusiasm his personality offered. To some, his tone may have sounded sarcastic but you knew, by the glint in his eyes, that he was genuinely happy you were here. "Shit- I have media, but then I could totally show you around, the second round of free practice doesn't start for another few hours,"

"Sounds good!" you smiled, Oscar's gaze trailed over to his teammate standing on the other side of the garage. You knew who Lando Norris was, from interviews with Osc, but you had never actually met him.

"I can introduce you to Lando too, he's great,"

"I'm good," you mumbled and your brother chuckled. There were definitely similarities, personality-wise, between you and your brother. You didn't need to meet Lando and you didn't want to meet him. From certain clips online you were sure his loud persona would be way too much for you-

"OSCAH!" The Brit yelled making both of your heads turn back to him. Proving your previous thought. "GET OVAH HERE YOU'RE SLOW!"

"Oh god, it talks?" you hissed.

"He is a person, and yes he talks." Oscar scolded, "He's very nice, don't be rude."

He gently elbowed you in the side, before walking towards the other racing driver and a set of cameras. You went and sat upstairs at some tables, putting your headphones in and waiting for your brother.

Once you were out of earshot, Lando turned to his teammate, "Who's the lady?"

"Oh, my sister. Well one of them, I have three." Oscar replied.

"Huh..." Lando hummed, hesitating, "Think you could introduce me?"

"Mateee," Oscar grumbled, already knowing where this was going. It wasn't the first time he had to tell one of his friends that you weren't interested.

"Pleaseee Osc?" Lando pleaded, Oscar side-eyed him hard.

"You know, I offered to introduce her first and she said 'I'm good.'"

"Ouch,"

"I'm sure it's nothing personal, she's just a bit introverted and grumpy-"

"Runs in the family I see..."

"-and then you proceeded to yell very Britishly across the entire room," Oscar finished, ignoring his teammate's jab.

"What do you mean 'Britishly'?" Lando chuckled.

"What do you mean 'runs in the family'?"

"Touche,"

"Oh my god," a loud giggle interrupted your peace, you lifted your head to see the two Mclaren boys on the floor playing Twister. You hadn't meant to catch them in the filming process but you couldn't deny it was quite entertaining.

You removed an earbud to hear Lando mumble, "What a sight that is..."

You chuckled to yourself, Osc was squatted with his butt right in Lando's face, both giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm in... such a bad place right now." Oscar sighed.

"I'm like in the splits," they giggled once more.

"Left foot yellow," one of the Mclaren media team instructed, after spinning the wheel for them. You stood up and walked over to the crew, exchanging smiles and waves with some of them.

"Oscahhh,"

"We can't be on the same sticker can we?" Oscar shook with laughter.

They mumbled something incoherent, Lando's voice cracked slightly, "Ahhhh, my voice is gone. Oscah call it quits. YOUR LEFT FOOT IS NOT GOING BETWEEN MY LEGS!"

Everyone laughed, both drivers looked up noticing your presence.

"Y/n/n help me!" Oscar pleaded.

"Y/n/n tell your brother he's lost!" Lando countered, smirking over at his teammate. You houghed, wondering who this guy thought he was, using Oscar's nickname for you. To be fair though you hadn't properly introduced yourself.

"Sorry Osco," you smiled at him, "It's not looking too good for you..."

Oscar tried to maneuver his body once more, before standing up and accepting defeat, "That's it, I'm done-"

"Yeh, he's called it. I win!" Lando cheered.

They cut the cameras and you waved at your brother, "Alright, I'm going to find lunch Osc, I'll find you later,"

The bustling paddock was a lot to take in, you had asked around the garage to see if anyone knew of a nice outdoor spot to eat. But after noticing that the few picnic benches close by were all occupied, you sighed in defeat. Holding your food bag close to your chest, you retreated to the McLaren garage.

However, a hard hit to your back made you stumble and drop your food, content spilling all over the ground.

"Whoops, sorry gorgeous," A man snarled, chuckling. His eyes were narrowed at you as a sickly grin spread across his face. "Hey, what's a pretty lady like you doin' all alone around here,"

"Just getting lunch," you replied curtly, avoiding eye contact. "And I'm not alone-"

"Well, that hasn't gone too great so far has it," He put an arm around your shoulders and you froze. "My apologies, come with me let me buy you something to eat,"

"No. Thank you. I'm headed to—uhm—find my boyfriend anyway, " you lied, scrambling out of his grasp and towards the garage.

"Oh come on gorgeous," his large strides met yours as you walked away.

"Please leave me alone, I'm not interested."

He grabbed your wrist pulling you to face him, hot breath hitting your face. You shook slightly, preparing to kick him with all your might, and start screaming-

"Y/N/N!" a voice yelled.

British.

The accent gave away who it was, but honestly, at this moment you didn't care, as Lando Norris' arms wrapped firmly around you from behind. You pulled your arm out of the other man's grip and he took a step back.

"Do we got a problem here mate?" Lando spoke, his sharp tone catching you by surprise. You clung to the top of one of his arms that draped around your shoulders and the man eyed the both of you in annoyance.

"No. Just trying to help the lady out," he houghed, you felt Lando's chest heave against your back.

"Well, I believe as she probably told you before, she's quite all right on her own," Lando responded cooly. By this point crowds of people, which often formed when Lando Norris was around, watched and whispered at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"Okay-" The man turned to leave.

"Hey, asshole." Lando spoke again, the anger you felt radiating off his body now leaving his mouth. Wishing you could see his face at that moment, you squeezed his bicep in a silent plea to let it go. Not wanting to cause more of a scene than you already had. "Don't just walk away, apologise to her."

You hesitantly made eye contact with the man across from you. And after spoiling your lunch, pestering you, and invading your space he mumbled one simple half-hearted word.

"Sorry," and walked away.

Lando gently released you and you slowly angled your body to face him. Not making eye contact, you scanned the people around that had clearly watched but were now avoiding your gaze.

"Oh god, I've caused a scene," you whispered.

Lando chuckled, making your face heat, "You're so much like your brother," You met his blue gaze, "It's okay. Are you okay?"

"Oh um- yes thank you for..."

"No worries, that guy was pissing me off," he mumbled, something flashing in his eyes, suddenly shy he added, "Sorry if I uh- crossed the line there-"

"It's alright..." you said softly, "I should get going, thanks again-"

"Wait! Let me walk you?" he offered with a small smile, "We need to get you more lunch right?"

You nodded and started towards the McLaren garage for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Lando followed by your side in silence, glancing over at you multiple times, seeming to ponder a conversation starter.

Hating small talk you quickly offered something else, "Want to see some embarrassing photos of Oscar?"

His face split into a grin, shaking his head excitedly. You pulled out your phone and started scrolling through some of the most horrendous photos that you had taken of your brother over the years. Including baby photos of course, and 'Vines' that you had made in your teenage years that made Lando squeal with laughter.

Your chest fluttered slightly at his warm laugh, so engrossed in your memories that you hadn't even noticed how casually he held your elbow and pulled you to the side. Only a few steps away from the garage and not wanting to end the moment.

"Wait, go back!" he giggled. You had landed on a horribly angled photo of your brother at the ripe age of 13, glaring at you angrily through the camera.

"His hair is so bad!" You wheezed.

"Can I just-" he held out his hand and you offered your phone. He took it and quickly typed in a phone number to send himself quality Oscar photos. "Thank you so much. My life is complete," he joked, handing the phone back to you.

"No problem," you laughed, smiling up at him.

His cheeks turned pink, and he spoke softly, "So are you-"

"LANDO!" he was suddenly called by one of the McLaren mechanics.

"Oh shit," he cursed checking his watch, slowly stepping away from you, "Sorry, I gotta go- shit -um I'll see ya around okay?!"

He gave you a wave, turning before you could answer, and jogging over to his team. You waved back hesitantly, but just like that he was gone. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and began walking in the other direction, wondering if he had turned back over his shoulder.

Why did you want to look back?

You continued your adventures around the paddock, getting food and the tour that Oscar had promised. You had missed him truly, he was one of your best friends as a kid and still was. It still felt strange adjusting to your lives as adults.

Eventually, it was time for him to head back and get in the car for another practice session. A group of fans surrounded Oscar for autographs, and he shot you a sympathetic look which you waved off with a smile. Standing off to the side, you pulled out your phone in an attempt not to look awkward, surprised by the many texts you had missed.

Oscar looked over your shoulder, catching you by surprise, "Who are you texting?"

You jumped, "No one-"

He gave you a confused face and then smirked at your screen, "Heh, is mum mad?"

Your face snapped back down to your phone, one of the other people to text you was your mother. You noticed her last message was in all caps and quickly opened it, color draining from your face.

Turned out Lando didn't need to tattle on you anyway.

And good god indeed.

[powderpinkprincess]

Speeding Ticket [Lando Norris x reader]

description: You get your first speeding ticket.

Lando was sitting at the kitchen table, mindlessly scrolling through social media when he heard the front door open. You finally arrived home. He had been waiting for you to text him back, so he could finally order food for lunch. You didn't see his texts, but he didn't want to call you, knowing you were in an important meeting. Yes, technically he had lunch at home, but that was the healthy stuff his dietitian made him eat, and he didn't feel like forcing down those veggies this today.

You shuffled into the kitchen with an unreadable expression on your face. You pressed your lips together into a thin line as you approached him, nodding stiffly. "Hi."

Lando could immediately tell that something was off. He frowned, setting his phone down on the table and turning to look at you properly. "Hey, everything alright?" he asked, studying your face.

You rummaged through your handbag and took out a white envelope. Then you put it on the table and slid it to him as if you were a part of some underground mafia, trying to arrange a business.

Lando raised an eyebrow at your weirdly ominous gesture, but he took the envelope off the table. "What's this?" he asked, lifting his gaze from the envelope to your face. Why were you acting so strange?

 "I got a speeding ticket," you mumbled sheepishly. "Thought I would tell you before you got the notification."

It was awkward and you felt especially bad because this morning you took his car, not yours. The tires of your car haven't been changed for a while now, and when Lando realized that the previous night, he told you not to drive it until it was done. Therefore, his number plate was shown on the ticket, not yours. Besides, you've never even gotten any kind of a ticket before, and now your first one was while driving your boyfriend's car.

Lando tried to keep a straight face, he really did. He tried to act serious, but the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as he suppressed a cheeky smile. He could've been really annoyed at you for speeding in his McLaren, but he found your grim face much more entertaining than he should have.

 "How fast did you go?" he asked, unable to contain his amused expression.

 "Sixty," you pouted. The speed limit in the urban areas of Monaco was 50 km/h, as it was full of twisty, narrow streets, tunnels, and traffic jams. Funny enough lots of people owned sports cars there, yet they were never allowed to drive fast.

Lando's smirk widened at your answer. "Sixty?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "You did 60 in a 50 zone?" He tried to sound serious, but the grin spreading across his face betrayed his failed attempt. "You do know you're not street racing right now, right love?" he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

 "I am a threat to your job, am I not?" you mumbled, crossing your arms. You were secretly a little relieved that he wasn't angry with you, yet you felt bad.

Lando chuckled at your words and leaned back in his chair, his smirk slowly transforming into a playful grin. "Oh yeah, you're a real danger to me," he teased, his tone still light. "I should watch out. You'll be taking my seat in no time."

You watched him in silence for a moment before you sighed, letting his arms fall to your side. "Seriously though, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your car in trouble."

Lando's expression softened as you apologized. His initial amusement was replaced by a hint of genuine concern. He reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle as he gave it a comforting squeeze.

 "It's okay, babe," he said softly, looking up at you. "I'm not mad, I was just teasing you. Besides, it's just a ticket. It's not the end of the world."

 "I got points on my license now," you whispered, your eyes filling with tears.

Lando noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, and his heart immediately sank at the sight. He stood up, stepping around the table to pull you into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he spoke.

 "Hey, it's okay," he attempted to soothe you. "It's not a big deal, really. I'm more surprised these are your first points with the way you drive sometimes."

You let out a sad chuckle and wiped your eyes. "Is this the way you are trying to comfort me?"

Lando grinned, his usual, cheeky personality resurfacing. "It's my special brand of comfort," he teased, before his tone turned serious again. "But honestly, love, it's just points on a license. It'll be okay. We'll pay the fine, and it'll be as if it never happened."

 "Nothing will be ever the same," you whispered dramatically.

Lando snorted at your statement and rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, love, you and your theatrics," he said, his teasing smirk back on his face. "It's a ticket, not a world-ending catastrophe."

 "I didn't even know what to do, it was so awkward," you started explaining the way you got pulled over. "The policeman asked if I drank, and I was so startled that I accidentally said yes."

Lando's eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and amusement as you described what happened. He couldn't suppress a laugh that escaped his lips. "You what?!" he stifled. "You told a policeman you were drunk?"

"Accidentally! I was trying to seem cooperative and say yes to whatever he wanted," you tried to explain yourself, but that only made Lando cackle louder. “Stop laughing! I thought he was going to take away my license right on the spot.”

Lando studied your face for a moment, trying to assess the emotional damage you suffered. Then he pulled you into a hug again and stroked your back.

 “Do you want to order Chinese? We can buy those stupid fortune cookies you love. Maybe they will tell the future of your license,” he offered, unable to stop himself from teasing. This was just so amusing.

You lightly smacked his chest. “Oh, shush, aren’t you supposed to be eating healthy anyway?”

 “I didn’t break any rules today yet. I must catch up to you,” he retorted.

You couldn’t help but finally smile. “Alright, let’s order then.”

 “How lucky that I don’t have to find out how to sneak cookies into a prison cell,” he added, sending you a quick glance before he picked up his phone from the table.

 “Lando!”

He started laughing again.

[codnriddlewhore]

Don't do this | a Tom Riddle oneshot

A/N: HII soo this is my first attempt at fics, dont hesitate to say anything, good or bad

k have fun :))

tags: professor tom riddle/professor reader, marriage, angst, horcruxes, sorry if i forget any

wc: 1,584

They've been together, inseparable for 3 years, married for 2 and a half. 

Tom saw her as an equal as much as someone like him could, she entranced his very being. They talked about subjects he was interested in, in a very objective and intelligent way and he was in awe when he realised he found a match, someone that could understand his fascinations and obsessions. She mostly didn't share them but she was open, he could ask her at 2 in the morning which one of the unforgivable 

curses she'd use to get information from someone and she'd genuinely give it some thought. 

Her fascinations lay more in the zoological department, muggle and magical. She spent hours in forests and jungles, the beings holding her attention for hours. Though, like Tom, she found it hard to open up to people and find like-minded individuals not just regarding creatures but life in general. When he asked to come with her on one of her shorter research-trips, she felt her body and sould levitate. Her greatest wish has always been to grow old with someone loving by her side, someone who she'd love back with her whole self.  Is it him? She hoped so and prayed every night.

He felt the same when she asked about his sketches and faveorite books. Tom Riddle, the usually selfish and greedy man, suddenly interested in the eccentric and always joyful zoology professor? He cursed himself for it, a good 5 months before talking to her for the first time. 

Now she is staying at his home in the country, a dark penthouse by the sea. To be specific, it is not as dark now, he found that she brought more light into it than any possible lamp. 

As dreamy as this may sound, but like in every married life, there's always small and petty arguments. Like now, her sitting in bed and reading, not giving him half an ounce of attention while he looked at her from the doorframe. 

He mentioned horcruxes and the sheer idea of immortality a few times, even on the day they met, but she simply laughed it off. Who would want to be soulles? It seemed absurd. 

But yesterday evening, when he explained that he wants to go through with his plan of doing so, she couldn't bare to give him more than a gulp and ignorance. He was being mean.

"Apologise, so we can spend at least the evening as a couple. It's cold to sleep without you in my arms." Tom meant it genuinely, but his tone was rough. He didn't understand her problem.

She simply kept on reading, like he didn't even exist. He groaned in annoyance and that did it. 

"I'm sorry, did my back damage your knife in any way? Do excuse me", he winced and didn't know if it was because of her closing her book shut loudly or her words. Probably the latter. 

"What do you mean?"

She exhaled in confusion. Did he actually not see the problem? 

"Tom. You outright told me that you want to split your soul from your body and divide it into 7 different parts. Oh and that you want to live forever. Do you not understand why I'm upset?"

"I'm going to be honest, no, I don't. I find you're being ridiculous, this is a marvelous discovery. "

"Well it is, which on the other hand doesn't mean you have to partake in it!" she says as she sits up straighter in the bed. 

He sees that and mirrors her reaction, standong up straight and putting his hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants. 

"Why not? It would help me be more focused on my work and goals and I wouldn't be occupied with unnecessary matters."

"Like me?" His wife didn't know if she regretted saying that, but it came out in the same second he ended his sentence.

Quiet.

"Don't do this. Of course not like you, you matter a huge deal. This would benefit me in every part of my life, I'd be the most powerful wozard that ever lived. There's been noone else more powerful than Death in the history of wizardry and it could be your husband, how are you not the least bit proud?"

"Proud!? You want me to be proud!? What else should I do, throw you a party and congratulate you on a life of pure damnation!?"

She was now standing approximately 1 horizontal man away from him, on a good way to become furious. 

"Damnation? I hope you mean admiration and being seen with respect, fear and devotion for the rest of time."

"Tommy?" She only called him that when she felt truly helpless or frustrated.

"Yes darling?"

Her voice went almost inaudible, "Where am I in that wonderful way of living you so dream of?"

"By my side." He was sure of that and knew he needed her in this. She'd be his queen in the whole thing.

She breaks into a series of scoffs, some distrustful and some humorous, she found the situation quite absurb. What were they even discussing? 

"I'll age! I'll age and be old and grey and wrinkly and youll still be thirty! It'll look ridiculous."

Was it embarrassing he hadn't thought of that? 

"There's plenty of spells to slow down aging." Stupid Riddle.

"Great Havens. If we put that aside, what about your soul? You'll be a shell of the man you truly are. How do you explain that?"

"What? Thats foolish, I'll be myself!"

"You'll be a soulless man! Only goal driven and shutting out everything else! We'll never again talk about life and the universe late at night, you'll never again appreciate me making you tea when you forget the time in your study and we'll never joke about the future and raising an army of baby wizards who we'll name after the imaginary friends we had as children. We'll never go to the city again and you'll never pick out a flower I adore and buy it behind my back to surprise me later although I'd always catch you and we'll never buy cheesy and ironic books for each other in that beautiful old book store we love. Now call me crazy and soft, but I happen to cherish these things."

It was hard to look him in the eyes during saying all that, but she needed to get her point across. She also despised herself for tearing up at this very moment, walking towards him with a pointed finger.

"Tommy, I swore to support and love you in everything you do, but- but taking the soul of the man I love from me-", she hesitated, wanting to stop her voice from breaking and breath from hitching.

He gulped. This was unfair.

"Don't do this."

"-taking that; now that's too much for me. I can't stand behind that."

"You're being cruel."

"I'm not the only one."

That stung, it stung them both at the same time. In the end, they were both just people. She was now standing very few inches infront of him, pointing at his chest, barely holding herself together. 

"You know what? Do it. I wont stop you or hold you back. That was never my goal."

"I don't understand. Forst you can't stand behind it then you say go ahead."

"If this makes you happy, what I truly doubt, you'll do it without me."

That made his dinner almost come up slightly, it was never an option. 

"You can't just leave now, you know I love you. Do you not love me anymore? Is that what you're trying to say?", he knew it spounded mean but he hoped to get the point across, he was genuinely wondering.

"Oh don't twist this. I'll always love you with every part of me, body, soul, mind and all, as long as I live, that's why I can't-

that's why I can't watch you do this..."

"So what are you going to do? Just leave? You know you can't do that." He didn't quite believe that she would. Was it cowardly to start a fight rather than comfort her or express his own feelings? He'd have to look into that.

She breathed in, deeper than ever before. It was important that she stays collected now.

"Fine. I'll leave when you do it. That way you wont miss me."

Tom Riddle never got dizzy, he was too aware of his surroundings for that. Yet, now he was holding  onto the doorframe next to him with such strength, that his knuckles turned paper white. He was also afraid to touch her, even breath in her direction, because she might fully disappear already.

"You can't...you can't be serious..." It was more of a whispered plea than a threat. 

She on the other hand, felt that she needed to touch him or else this stupid boat of too many emotions for both of them would sink to the bottom of the deepest point in the ocean. His cold cheeks warmed at the touch of her palms. In that very moment he also exhaled briefly, still finding deep-rooted comfort in her, even at this time. Her eyes filled with tears, to the brim this time and she ignored them, it was no time to sob now. Her right hand caressed his hair; like it was any other moment they shared before.

"I'm sorry Tommy. I really wanted us to get grey and wrinkly together."

to be continued...

[moonstruckme]

i'm obsesseeeed with dr. rem and i have a request for him if you're up for it!! <33 maybe reader gets into an "accident" (nothing serious) while working and remus finds out when he sees her in the hospital? like she didn't have time to call him and let him know so he suddenly just sees her and freaks out for a bit before realizing she's okay? thank you so muchhhh 💗

I'm obsessed with him toooo it's bad ! Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

cw: minor head injury

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Your eyes water, but you do your best to keep them open as the girl in scrubs points her light in each one. 

“Your pupils look alright,” she decides, clicking the light off and giving you an apologetic smile when you blink in relief. “Have you felt nauseous at any point since it’s happened? Dizzy?” 

You shake your head no to both, wincing a bit as the clear bag of ice you’re holding to the back shifts slightly. 

“That’s good.” She nods encouragingly. She seems young and somewhat green, probably one of those pesky residents Remus is always griping about. Though she’s trying to project the same seasoned calm as the other doctors and nurses moving about the A&E, there’s a quiet anxiety about her that you recognize. It’s the same one you carried during the first month at your job, the possibility of getting in some kind of trouble seeming to loom over you constantly. She’s pretty, you think, and she seems nice. Like she genuinely cares, a massive improvement over the woman at the front desk who’d given you a look so judgemental that it’d made you feel even more embarrassed for being here. “And you’re sure you didn’t lose consciousness at any point? Even for a second?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. “I mean, I would have noticed, right?” 

She squints like she’s not quite sure what to do with that, and then you perk up as a familiar rhythm gets your attention. You wouldn’t have guessed you could do it outside of your shared flat, but you pick out the sound of Remus’ footfalls a second before he comes into view. He’s striding briskly across the room, skimming something on his clipboard, and he gives the swath of curtained rooms little more than a cursory glance as he passes—until his eyes flare, snagging on you.

You raise your hand in a sorry wave. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, doubling his pace to get to you. His attention moves to the bag of ice you’re holding to your head. “You’re hurt?”

“I bumped my head at work,” you explain with a shrug. The resident looks between you like she’s unsure if she should continue, clearly outranked by the other doctor in your little room. “It’s not bad, but my boss said I had to come here.” 

Remus’ lips tug downward, taking the ice from you and tilting your head so he can see it. “You hit your head and you didn’t call me?” 

“It’s nothing,” you promise him. “My boss just made me come in as a formality. For liability reasons, you know?” 

Remus remains uncomforted. He murmurs a quiet direction to the resident so the poor girl steps back from you. You shoot her an apologetic look as your boyfriend takes your head in both hands, prodding at the tender spot on the back. You wince, and he makes a very unprofessional cooing sound, stroking his thumb next to the nonexistent wound. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Even his dubious tone is gentled for you, the pinch of his mouth more worried than vexed. 

“It hurts,” you admit, “but only like any bruise would. It didn’t even break the skin, Rem, I’m totally fine.” 

He looks at the resident. “Any symptoms of a concussion?” 

“No,” the girl chirps nervously. You wonder that anyone could be nervous around Remus, but you suppose he is sort of like one of her bosses. “Pupils are normal, no dizziness or headaches, no reactions to light or noise, and no signs of confusion.” 

He nods, still frowny. You think he could stand to show her some appreciation, but this may not be the time to bring it up. “Alright, you can go. I’ve got this one.” 

“Thank you,” you say after her, and she flashes you a tiny smile before Remus eclipses your vision, taking your face in his hand. 

“You were fully honest, right?” he asks you sternly. “Didn’t downplay anything?” 

“I didn’t.” You summon your most placating tone, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist. “I’m really fine.” You rub your thumb into his pulse point. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, everything was just moving so quickly. I wouldn’t have tried to keep it a secret or anything.” 

Remus lets out a long exhale, leaning forward so that his nose rests on your forehead. “I know you wouldn’t,” he murmurs. “But do you have any idea how scary it is to see someone you love in A&E, where you work, when you thought they were just going about their day unharmed?” 

Your heart contracts as the severity drains from his tone, replaced by a dull rawness. “I don’t.” You slide your touch up his arm to his bicep, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. But I am unharmed, see? It’s all good.” 

He grunts fondly, kissing your forehead as he straightens. “Who drove you here?” 

“Marcus.” You’ll have to make your coworker some cookies or something as a thank-you gift, though you’re sure getting a half hour off work to chauffeur you here wasn’t an entirely unwelcome break. 

“And where is he?” 

“Back at work. He dropped me off.” 

Remus brow puckers. “He left you here?” 

“Well, it wasn’t like there was anything he could do,” you say, shrugging. You feel a bit sheepish, though you’re not sure why. 

“Still.” His jaw ticks. “Okay, I get off in less than an hour. Do you think you can sit tight until then? I’ll have someone bring you some fresh ice.” He levels your sloshy bag of ice with a disapproving look you want nothing to do with. “And did you eat lunch before your shift?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you say. “But I don’t need you to drive me home, Rem. There’s a bus stop right outside of here.” 

He scoffs. “I don’t care if you don’t have a concussion, I’m not letting you take the bus after you’ve just hit your head.” He squeezes your shoulder, thumb pressing into your collarbone. “I’ll have someone bring you a snack.” 

“It’s just a bump,” you argue, but Remus ignores you. 

“Try to leave, and I’ll be very cross with you,” he threatens as he walks away. “Cuddles are a privilege that can be revoked.” 

[ysrjune]

idc who gets annoyed with this. sam with girly reader with cptsd who is just trying to ask him if hes okay but he yells at her n she starts to cry and tries to leave but he is like “nooo my shayla…” and apologises and stuff

IDK IM TRYING JUNIE GRRRRRR

[ “ WE BOTH KNOW THAT IT’S NOT FASHIONABLE TO LOVE ME ” ]

#🎀🚬 #🖤🩷

ENJOY ! ♡

"babe, please," she pouts, tugging at the sleeve of her boyfriends shirt. "you havent been talking to me all day, are you okay?" she asks softly as Sam smoked a cigarette, watching TV. he gave her no answer, causing her to assume that she had done something terribly wrong to upset him.

"maybe he's mad because I asked Jared for help on the assignment." she thinks.

"sammy, answer me!" she taps his shoulder. sam groans and finally looks over at her. "can you shut the fuck up and leave me alone?! im not mad! I just want to relax, alright? you asking me if im mad is making me mad! you're so annoying!" sam yells and shakes his head. you flinched when he yelled, tears forming in your eyes as he continued. "oh.. sorry," you try saying without your voice cracking. it fell silent for a few moments before he spoke up again.

"I hate when you get like this, you know? can you seriously not go five minutes without talking to me? dont you get tired of not shutting your fucking mouth?" he doesnt yell, but his tone was harsh and mean. "you're so god damn needy for my attention, its embarrassing." he ends and you finally crack. the tears spilled from your eyes and you sobbed softly. "im sorry! I just! I like talking to you," you cry to him. his upset face immediately went away, turning to you as soon as he heard you crying. "I don't mean to be embarrassing, im sorry sam." you keep crying.

sam immediately feels bad and pulls you in for a side hug. "fuck," he curses under his breath. "babe im sorry." he sighs. "I didnt mean to get mad at you like that, princess." he sets his cig on the ashtray on the side of his bed. "this isnt your fault, beautiful. cmere." he positions you to lay on top of him, burying your face in his chest. "im sorry baby, I really am. I just had a stressful day, you understand, yeah? I just didn't feel like talking." he kisses the top of your head.

"forgive me?" he wipes your tears with his thumbs. "I dont know. you were being really mean." you sniffle, voice muffled from your face still being in his chest. "yeah, I was.." he kisses your head again. this wasnt the first time hes yelled at you. hes done this atleast two other times this month, but he really is trying his best to make it to none. he doesnt like to take his anger out on you. especially since you're always so damn nice to him. too nice, even. always giving him gifts, showering him with your affection. sam feels like a horrible boyfriend most of the time because he knows hes not treating you the way you deserve.

"come on doll, I didnt mean what I said." he whines. "im so sorry babygirl, I swear, I swear, I swear that I don't think you're annoying for talking t'me all the time, alright? promise you that even if I look like I'm not paying attention, I am." he lifts your face and kisses your soft lips. the soft lips that he loves to kiss. "pinky promise?" it sounded childish for you to want him to pinky promise, but you had been doing it since you started talking. it only started as a silly thing, but it had become a genuine thing in your relationship.

"pinky promise, dollface." he locks your pinky with his and kisses you again. "I love you baby. sorry that I dont show it enough." he runs his fingers through your hair. to make it up, he took you to the mall and bought you a couple cute shirts and other clothes. #samhashismoneyupnow #notbrokeAF #ehboyfriendbutWfortrying??

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaas-xo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess

[wchswift]

HABZHSBAH HIII LINAAA (it's me again 😭) gosh i don't want to appear as a desperate but it seems that you're the only who opens your request for leopold 😔😭

just a small request :3 from a prompt that i encountered "... sorry, i talked too much" "no no no not at all, keep talking. i love listening to you."

well, we all know what a gentleman leopold is HABSUSBSH (I NEED HIM SO BAD MY BABY), i don't have any plot in mind so maybe you could create yours based on the prompt?? thank you!! (i love your writings)

Every Word You Say

Pairing: Leopold Mountbatten x Reader Content: strangers to friends to lovers (kind of), yapping, fluff, reader is a bookworm, Leopold is head over heels, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 2.6k (maybe I got a little excited) a/n: HIII ZAYN BESTIE!! I'm so happy you're sending me requests yayy, thanks to you I could write to Leopold my baby again (pls keep going)! okay I have to admit that I loved this prompt and maybe I got a little carried away about the plot... Maybe I've strayed a little from what you wanted (I hope not), but I really hope you like it cause I really enjoyed writing it <3

It was a good afternoon. The store was quiet, as usual, with only a few customers coming and going and not much activity. Afternoons like that were nice—there wasn't much work to do, but sales were enough to keep the place from feeling forgotten. This allowed some time to relax behind the counter and arrange books on the shelves.

The faint jingling of the brass bell above the door broke the comforting silence of the shop. The sound made her look up from the stack of books on the counter, brushing a stray hair from her face as she spotted the man who had just entered.

He was tall and impeccably dressed, with an air of calm that seemed at odds with the frenetic city outside. His coat was neatly buttoned, his shoes polished, and he carried himself with a poise that made her pause. New Yorkers weren’t usually this... composed. It was weird. But most importantly, he was so beautiful.

“Hi, good afternoon,” she greeted, flashing him a polite smile. “Let me know if I can help you find anything.”

The man hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes scanning the shelves. “Thank you,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, the kind of voice that made even the most mundane words sound elegant.

She went back to organizing her stack of books, sneaking a glance now and then as he browsed. He moved slowly, as though savoring the sight of each title, his fingers brushing over the spines like they were relics. Finally, he stopped at the classics section and pulled out a leather-bound book.

He turned to her, holding the book aloft. “This edition of The Odyssey... it’s rather splendid. Do you recommend it?”

She blinked, surprised at his formality. “Oh, definitely. It’s one of my favorites. That edition has some great commentary in the back, too. Though, fair warning, if you get me started on books, I might not shut up.” She confessed, her tone amusing but gentle.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I assure you, I regret nothing. Please, continue.”

She smiled genuinely at him, feeling a small flutter of surprise at his response. Most people gave a polite nod or chuckle when she rambled, but this man seemed really interested. Encouraged, she leaned against the counter, her hands gesturing animatedly as she began talking.

“You can’t go wrong with The Odyssey,” she said. “I mean, it’s a classic for a reason, right? Epic journeys, gods meddling in human affairs, monsters… And don’t get me started on Odysseus himself. Brilliant, but also kind of an idiot, if you ask me.” She laughed, then quickly added, “Oh, but you know... I mean that in the best way, of course.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Hm, Is that so? Fascinating perspective. You find fault with his decisions?”

“Oh, plenty,” she replied, warming to the topic. “Some of his problems are his own fault—like the whole Cyclops thing? That could’ve been avoided if he’d just kept his mouth shut. But that’s what makes him interesting. He’s flawed. Human. It makes the story feel timeless, even though it’s thousands of years old.”

As the words tumbled out of her, she noticed his expression soften. His gaze didn’t waver, his posture relaxed yet attentive, as though he were cataloging every word she said.

So she just kept talking, completely oblivious to him or how he was mesmerized watching her, the excitement and ease with which she lost herself in the topic. After a moment like that, it was like something hit her, realizing how much she’d been talking, she stopped abruptly, her cheeks heating. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that. You came for the books and probably weren’t expecting an impromptu lecture on Greek mythology.”

He tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening. “Not at all. Your enthusiasm is... refreshing. Please, go on.”

Her lips twitched in a smile of her own. “You’re dangerous, you know that? Most people try to shut me up, but not you. You’re encouraging me.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would wish you to stop,” he replied earnestly.

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She licked her lips, momentarily speechless and lost in him. After that, she just knew she would want to keep him in her life for as long as possible.

After that, it didn’t take long for him to return.

As she rearranged a display near the window the next afternoon, the bell above the door jingled again. She glanced up, half-expecting the usual flow of customers, only to see the same man from the day before.

He greeted her with the same polite nod and reserved smile, his gaze sweeping over the shop like he was committing every detail to memory.

“Back so soon?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He stopped near the counter, his posture impeccably straight. “I enjoyed our conversation yesterday. And I have a fondness for bookshops.”

“Well, then you’ve come to the right place,” she said, gesturing to the shelves around them. “Find anything interesting today?”

He paused, his gaze flicking to the classics section before returning to her. “Not yet, but I have no doubt you will recommend something.”

“Challenge accepted,” she said, already scanning the shelves in her mind for the perfect book. "Oh, sorry. What's your name again?"

As the days passed, Leopold's visits became routine. He would step into the shop with that same calm air, and they would talk—about books, history, the city, and whatever topic struck her fancy. He never seemed to mind when she rambled, always listening with the kind of focus that made her feel like the most fascinating person in the room. Something she wasn't even a little bit used to, by the way.

Their interaction was so easy and natural. When she talked to him, was always exciting and gave her a feeling of comfort. So it wasn't exactly a surprise when she quickly grew accustomed to his presence. It was strange how easily he fit into the rhythm of her days, even though she knew so little about him.

Each time he came in, she found herself lighting up in ways she hadn’t expected. She would recommend books, tease him about his formal speech, and talk about whatever was on her mind, and he never failed to listen with unwavering attention. She never, not once, felt uncomfortable or unseen in his presence. He was like a prince in a fairy tale.

One rainy afternoon, as she stacked a new shipment of books behind the counter, the man who wouldn't leave her thoughts walked in with droplets clinging to his coat and hair. She glanced up, smiling automatically.

“Caught in the rain, huh?” she asked, setting down the stack.

“Indeed,” he said, brushing water from his sleeves. “Though I find it a small price to pay for the solace this shop provides.” He complimented, in his usual formal way.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You always know how to make the place sound fancier than it is. It’s just a bookshop, you know.”

He tilted his head, a faint smile gracing his lips. “To you, perhaps. To me, it is quite extraordinary.”

The quiet sincerity in his voice made her breath catch for a moment. She quickly looked away, fiddling with a loose thread on her sleeve.

��Well,” she said, her tone lighter, “if you’re going to keep flattering the place, I should at least give you a tour of the neighborhood. There are some other spots I think you’d like—if you’re interested.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, as though the suggestion surprised him. “I would be delighted,” he said, feeling his heart race.

This finally happened two days later.

The city bustled around them, cars honking and voices blending into a constant hum, but she took him down quieter streets, pointing out her favorite spots.

“This café has the best pastries,” she said, gesturing to a small storefront with a faded awning. “And the park a few blocks down is great if you need to get away from all this.”

He listened attentively, nodding at her words but occasionally glancing around with a furrowed brow, as though trying to make sense of his surroundings.

When they reached a crosswalk she stepped forward without thinking, only to realize he hadn’t moved. She turned back to see him standing on the curb, watching the cars zip by with a look of mild apprehension.

“Hey, you coming?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Is it always this... chaotic?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-exasperated.

“Pretty much. You just have to commit to it.” She grabbed his arm lightly, tugging him forward as the light changed. “Come on—don’t think, just go.”

He followed reluctantly, muttering under his breath, “This city has no regard for decorum—or the sanctity of life.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I swear you'll get used to it. Well, eventually.”

As they walked through the park, the noise of the streets faded behind them, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of joggers. She led him to a bench near a small fountain, sitting down and patting the spot next to her.

“See? Not so bad, right?” she said, leaning back with a contented sigh.

He settled beside her, his posture as upright as ever. “It is... quieter than I expected,” he admitted. “Rather pleasant, in fact.”

“I knew you’d like it,” she said, smiling. “You know, You're not as hard to please as you seem.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “Oh, I imagine this is good?”

She laughed softly, and for a moment they sat in comfortable silence, watching the fountain's water ripple in the breeze. They enjoyed being at peace, simply appreciating each other's company.

That evening, he returned to the bookshop. The streets were quieter now, the glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the floor as she tidied up before closing.

He lingered by the counter as she talked, her words spilling out in an excited stream as she recounted a childhood memory sparked by a book she’d come across earlier that day.

“So when I was ten, I had this phase where I was obsessed with The Secret Garden,” she said, gesturing as she spoke. “I even convinced my dad to help me plant this tiny garden in our backyard. Except, I was an awful gardener—I kept forgetting to water it, and half the flowers were just weeds I thought looked cool.”

She laughed, shaking her head at the memory. “But I’d still sit out there for hours, waiting for my own magical door to appear. My dad always called it my ‘weed palace.’”

Leopold chuckled softly, his smile warm. “A ‘weed palace,’ you say? Peculiar, but at the same time charming.”

“Well, maybe to you,” she replied, grinning. “To everyone else, it was probably an eyesore.”

She paused, glancing at the clock and suddenly realizing how long she’d been talking. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at him.

“Oh God... I’m sorry, I talked too much. I really need to learn when to stop.”

Leopold, who has been utterly captivated, loses the humor in his eyes, his expression shifting to something quieter, warmer as he tries to reassure her.

“No, no, not at all. Keep talking. I love listening to you.” he said softly.

Her breath caught at the earnestness in his voice, the way his gaze held hers as though he truly meant every word. For a few seconds, she could only stare, her usual quick wit failing her.

“Thanks,” she murmured finally, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

The warmth in his eyes didn’t waver, and in that quiet moment, the bustling world outside seemed to fade away entirely.

A comfortable silence settled in for a few minutes. Leaving them there, just staring at each other, observing each other. For a moment, she didn't know what else to say. People didn’t usually look at her the way he was now—like every word she said was worth hearing. It was flattering, a little unnerving, but mostly... nice. She blinked a few times, adjusting her posture while lightly playing with her hair, hoping to dispel the warmth creeping into her cheeks.

The quiet between them was the kind of silence that felt full, warm, and fascinating. She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, glancing at him as he remained by the counter, looking as though he had something more to say.

Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke, her voice soft. “You know, you’re a pretty good listener. Most people get bored with my stories halfway through.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into that faint, knowing smile she was beginning to adore. “I find your stories enchanting. They are... a window into a world I often feel I’m only just discovering.”

Her brow furrowed at the odd phrasing, but before she could question it, he stepped a little closer, his hands gently resting on the counter. His gaze softened, the usual formality in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable.

“It’s rare,” he continued, his voice low, “to find someone who speaks with such passion. Most people... say so little of consequence. But you—your words, your thoughts—they breathe life into even the most mundane things.”

Her heart gave a tiny flutter, and she felt warmth creep up her neck again. “That’s... really sweet of you to say,” she murmured, looking down at her hands.

For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered across his face. He took a deep breath, then, with a soft, deliberate motion, tilted his head to meet her eyes. The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable as he declared, “I speak only the truth.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a spark of something unnameable through her chest, and she met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“Well,” she said lightly, trying to steady her voice, “if you keep flattering me like that, I might start to think you enjoy my company.”

His smile deepened, feeling more real, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I should hope that has been apparent for some time.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re kind of a mystery, you know that? But... I think I like that about you.”

“And you,” he said, his tone softening again, “are an open book. A rare and beautiful one.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away from him. The faint glow of the shop’s dim lighting reflected in his eyes, and the quiet hum of the world outside seemed to fade entirely. She momentarily dropped her gaze to his lips before his voice brought her back.

“Would you,” he began, his voice careful, almost hesitant, “permit me the honor of accompanying you on another of your walks? Perhaps tomorrow?”

She bit her lip, her heart racing in a way that felt new and thrilling, together with the urge to jump into his arms. “I think I’d like that,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

He straightened slightly, a look of quiet satisfaction crossing his face. “Then it’s settled.”

As the bell above the door jingled softly, signaling his departure, she stood there for a moment, watching him disappear into the night. She closed her eyes as a painful smile appeared on her face, she quickly did a happy dance before lightly resting her hands on the counter.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[andy-15-07]

hii i read always about pedro pascal characters being grumpy towards reader and then feeling bad about it and comforting her so i just wanted to ask maybe reader being grumpy about something and being angry towards pedro himself or any of his characters and they are like confused and hurt, did they do something and then reader comforting them and shushing them that everything is okey and that they did nothing wrong, like babying them🩷🩷

Shushing the Storm

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 3247 | Requests are open! (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The wind howled outside the ramshackle shelter you’d taken refuge in, its mournful song echoing the turmoil that churned inside you. The remnants of a once-bustling world lay in ruins beyond the makeshift walls—a constant reminder of loss and struggle. Inside, however, the conflict was of another kind. It was raw, messy, and incredibly personal.

You sat at a battered wooden table, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring daggers at Joel as he meticulously cleaned his old revolver. His normally stoic face was shadowed with an expression that seemed a blend of regret and confusion. The silence between you had stretched thin over the past few days, each passing moment weighted by words left unsaid and wounds unhealed.

“Joel,” you finally said, your voice low and edged with frustration. “Why do you always have to be so damn grumpy? I’m tired of it.”

He paused, the clink of metal against metal echoing in the quiet. Slowly, he set the gun aside and turned to you, his eyes searching yours for an answer he didn’t quite have. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered, his tone soft and uncertain, as if he were afraid any misstep might shatter something fragile between you.

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, the anger bubbling over. “Every time something’s off, you shut me out. You snap, you grumble, and you leave me hanging without an explanation. It’s like I’m not even here.” Your words were harsh, each syllable laced with the pent-up hurt of countless moments when you felt invisible, unwanted.

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he stepped back as if physically recoiling from the weight of your disappointment. “I—I'm sorry,” he murmured, but his apology sounded more like a reflex than genuine remorse. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the rain that began tapping against the metal roof of the shelter.

The tension in the room grew palpable. You could see the conflict in his eyes—his hardened exterior cracking just enough to reveal a vulnerable, confused man beneath. “Sorry isn’t enough, Joel,” you said sharply. “I need to know that you’re really here with me, that you care enough to try to fix this.”

He shifted his weight uneasily, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I do care,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I just... sometimes, I can’t help it. I’ve been through hell, and sometimes, I carry that with me, even when I don’t want to.”

You softened slightly at his confession, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “That may be true, but I’m not your enemy,” you whispered, the bitterness in your tone giving way to genuine concern. “I’m here, Joel. I’m right here. And when you push me away, it hurts.”

Joel’s eyes dropped to the floor, shame mingling with a hurt he couldn’t quite hide. “I didn’t realize... I—I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was sparing you from my baggage,” he confessed, his words a murmur of regret.

You leaned forward, your expression softening further as you reached out a tentative hand towards him. “You’re not a burden,” you said, your voice gentle yet insistent. “You never have been. I know things are hard, and I know you’re scared sometimes. But I want to help, Joel. I want us to face this together.”

For a long, heart-stopping moment, silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the rhythm of the rain. Joel looked up at you then, eyes glistening with unshed tears and confusion. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I’m scared of letting you in, scared that if I do, you’ll see how broken I am.”

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe,” you said softly, “but I’d rather see that brokenness and help put it back together than never know the real you at all.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours for any sign of mockery or disdain, but finding only sincerity and compassion. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” he whispered, his tone laden with self-doubt.

“Shh, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.” The simple words carried the weight of your promise—a promise to be there even when things were messy, even when the storm inside him threatened to spill over.

Later that evening, as the storm outside began to wane, you found Joel sitting alone on the splintered porch of the shelter, staring blankly at the rain-soaked horizon. The world might have been falling apart, but you couldn’t bear to leave him alone with his demons any longer.

You approached quietly, settling down beside him on the creaking wooden steps. “Hey,” you said softly, nudging his shoulder with your hand. “Talk to me.”

Joel didn’t immediately respond, his eyes fixed on the distant, darkened skyline. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You turned to face him, studying the lines of exhaustion and regret that marred his face. “Joel, it’s okay,” you reassured him, placing a comforting hand over his. “I know you’re hurting, and sometimes you don’t know how to handle it. But I need you to understand that when you shut me out, it leaves me feeling alone too.”

He looked at you, the hurt in his eyes deepening. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmured. “I thought I was protecting you, keeping you safe from my pain.”

“You’re protecting yourself, Joel,” you replied firmly, though your tone was gentle. “And I get that. But you have to let me in too. You’re not alone in this fight. I’m here, and I want to be part of your healing.”

There was a pause, during which the only sound was the soft murmur of the evening breeze and the distant echo of dripping water. Joel swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’m just so tired,” he confessed, almost inaudibly. “Tired of pretending, tired of feeling like I’m always on the edge. Sometimes, I just... I just don’t know how to stop the storm inside.”

You squeezed his hand gently, your eyes filled with compassion. “Then let me help calm that storm,” you whispered, your voice laced with tenderness. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Joel. It’s okay to let your guard down. I’m here to remind you that you’re not broken beyond repair.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was more sorrow than humor. “You make it sound so simple,” he remarked, his tone bittersweet.

“It isn’t simple,” you admitted, shifting closer so that your shoulders touched. “But sometimes, even when things seem impossible, a little kindness can go a long way. I’m not trying to fix you, Joel—I’m just here to remind you that you’re loved, flaws and all.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked at you, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability etched in every line of his face. “I—thank you,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “For not giving up on me.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Never,” you promised, your voice gentle yet firm. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The following morning, the shelter was filled with a tentative warmth. The storm had passed, leaving behind a calm that was reflected in the clear, pale light of dawn. Over a modest breakfast of canned beans and stale bread, the atmosphere was markedly lighter than it had been in the preceding days.

“Joel,” you began hesitantly, “can we talk about what happened? I don’t want us to just sweep it under the rug.”

He looked up from his cup of weak coffee, eyes filled with a cautious hope. “Of course,” he replied. “I know I’ve been... distant. I’m sorry for how I acted. I—” He paused, searching for the right words, “I’ve been carrying a lot of guilt about my past, and it sometimes makes me push you away. I don’t want to do that. I’m trying, I really am.”

You reached out, placing your hand over his, offering silent reassurance. “I appreciate that,” you said softly. “But I also need you to understand how it affects me. When you get grumpy or distant, it makes me feel like maybe I’m not enough. Like maybe you’d rather be alone than deal with my needs.”

His face fell, and for a moment, you saw the raw sting of his insecurities. “That’s not true,” he insisted, his voice shaking slightly. “You’re more than enough—if anything, you’re the reason I keep fighting. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You offered him a small, forgiving smile. “I know you don’t. And I’m not angry with you, Joel. I’m angry because I know you’re hurting, and because I care about you so much. I just wish you’d let me in more often.”

A long silence passed as he absorbed your words. Finally, he said, “Maybe I’ve been too afraid of being vulnerable. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I showed any weakness, it would all come crashing down. But… maybe it’s time I learned that it’s okay to lean on someone else.”

Your eyes shone with relief and tenderness. “It is okay,” you assured him. “Sometimes, being vulnerable is the bravest thing you can do. And I’ll be here to help carry the weight when it gets too much.”

Joel’s fingers curled around yours in a tentative grasp, as if testing the strength of the connection between you. “Promise me,” he said, his voice earnest, “that you’ll be patient with me. That even on my worst days, you won’t give up on me.”

“I promise,” you replied without hesitation. “I’m here for the long haul. Even when things get rough, I’ll always be here to shush the storm inside you and remind you that you’re safe.”

He gave a small, grateful laugh. “You really do have a way of making things seem less terrible,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

“Maybe it’s because I know that sometimes, the roughest storms hide the most beautiful rainbows,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “And I believe in you, Joel—even when you can’t believe in yourself.”

As the days turned into weeks, the delicate dance between anger, hurt, and healing continued. There were still moments when Joel’s grumpiness would flare up—when memories of his past would surge forth like unwelcome ghosts—but each time, you found yourself ready to meet him with understanding instead of frustration.

One chilly evening, after a particularly difficult day scavenging for supplies in the ruins of an abandoned town, you returned to the shelter to find Joel slumped in a corner, his face obscured by shadow. The weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air. You approached slowly, not wanting to startle him, but determined to offer the comfort he so desperately needed.

“Joel?” you asked gently, crouching beside him. “Talk to me, please.”

He looked up, eyes rimmed with tears and haunted by exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice cracking under the strain of emotions. “I know I’ve been a mess lately. I... I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to come up for air.”

You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you spoke softly, “It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize for feeling like this. It’s okay to be scared, and it’s okay to cry.”

He leaned into your embrace, the rawness of his pain palpable. “I feel so weak, so broken,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I keep pushing everyone away because I think it’s easier than facing how much I need them.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re not weak, Joel. You’re hurting, and that’s human. It’s okay to let yourself feel it. I promise, you don’t have to carry this all by yourself.” Your words, soft and earnest, were meant to be a soothing balm to his wounded spirit.

He sniffled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I’m scared that if I let you in completely, you’ll see just how damaged I am and… maybe you won’t want to stick around.”

“Joel,” you said firmly, “I’m not going anywhere. Every scar, every mistake—it all makes you who you are. And I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world because it led me to you.” You paused, your tone shifting to a tender, almost playful lilt as you added, “Besides, you’re kind of adorable when you’re trying to be all tough and mysterious. It’s like I get to be the one who gets to shush you and remind you that you’re safe.”

A hesitant smile tugged at his lips, the hint of humor breaking through the gloom. “Adorable, huh?” he teased softly, though the vulnerability in his eyes remained.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your tone light but filled with warmth. “Just promise me you’ll try to let me in a little more, okay? Even if it’s just a little bit at a time.”

“I promise,” he murmured, leaning into your embrace once more. “I’ll try. For you.”

In the weeks that followed, the shifts were subtle but profound. There were mornings when you’d catch him watching you with a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as if he was silently apologizing for all the times he’d been distant. And on days when old habits threatened to resurface, you’d gently remind him with a tender smile, “It’s okay, Joel. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’d chuckle, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I guess I do need reminding sometimes,” he’d say, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and gratitude.

One particularly quiet afternoon, as you both sat by a small fire outside the shelter, you found him staring into the flames, lost in thought. The dancing light painted shifting patterns on his weathered face. You settled beside him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll ever get past all this?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

You sighed, thoughtful. “Every day,” you admitted. “But I also believe that every storm eventually passes. And until then, we have each other. We have these moments—small, quiet moments—that remind us that even in the worst of times, there’s still hope.”

He turned to look at you, eyes softening. “You make it sound so simple,” he said, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“It isn’t simple,” you replied gently. “But sometimes, the simplest things are the most profound. Like a soft word when you’re angry, a gentle touch when you’re hurting, or a quiet reminder that you’re never truly alone.”

Joel’s gaze drifted back to the flames, and for a moment, the silence between you was comfortable—a shared understanding without the need for constant words. Then, almost shyly, he asked, “Do you really think I’m worth all this? With my baggage and my broken pieces?”

You turned to him, your eyes steady and full of certainty. “I don’t just think it, Joel—I know it. You’re worth every bit of struggle, every tear, every moment of pain, because you’re you. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

He reached out and pulled you closer, as if trying to hold onto that assurance with all his might. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for not giving up on me, even when I make it hard.”

“Never,” you promised, smoothing your hand over his hair. “I’ll always be here to shush the storm inside you, to remind you that it’s okay to be vulnerable, and that you’re loved—no matter what.”

As the fire dwindled to glowing embers, you both sat in companionable silence, the trials of the past few days melting away in the warmth of your mutual understanding. In that quiet moment, beneath a sky slowly clearing of its dark clouds, you knew that despite the scars and the struggles, there was something undeniably beautiful about the way you and Joel were learning to navigate the chaos—together.

Time moved on, as it inevitably does, carrying with it both hardship and healing. There were days when Joel’s grumpiness would creep back in, a stubborn remnant of the pain he’d carried for so long. And on those days, you’d catch him off guard with a teasing remark or a playful nudge, lightening the mood with a reminder that even the toughest exterior could be softened by a gentle touch.

One afternoon, after a long day of foraging near the outskirts of a crumbling city, you found Joel standing by the old, rusted gate of what once might have been a grand estate. The wind tousled his hair as he gazed out at the horizon, lost in his own thoughts. You approached quietly, a small smile on your lips.

“Hey, Mr. Tough Guy,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “Remember our little promise?”

He turned slightly, a wry smile forming on his lips despite the lingering shadows in his eyes. “And what promise might that be?” he teased, though there was a softness to his tone that hadn’t been there before.

“The promise that no matter how rough things get, you’ll let me in just a little more each day,” you replied, your voice playful yet sincere.

Joel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he pulled you into a gentle hug. “I think I can manage that,” he said, the warmth of his acceptance resonating in his tone. “Especially if you keep reminding me that it’s okay to be a little... weak sometimes.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, I get to be the one who shushes all that unnecessary grumpiness with a smile.”

He shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him as he held you close. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a grin. “But I wouldn’t trade our little chaos for the world.”

In that moment, as the sun dipped low and bathed the ruined city in a golden glow, you both understood that life was a series of storms and quiet moments—a tapestry woven with threads of pain, hope, and the enduring power of compassion. And as long as you had each other to lean on, there was no storm too fierce, no wound too deep, and no darkness that couldn’t be softened by the light of understanding.

So here’s to the grumpy days, the moments of anger and hurt, and to the gentle shushing that followed—each a testament to the messy, beautiful journey of healing together. And as you and Joel continued to navigate the uncertain path ahead, you knew that every soft word, every tender touch, and every moment of vulnerability was a step towards mending not just the scars of the past, but the promise of a better tomorrow.

“I love you,” Joel murmured one evening as you both settled down to rest after a particularly hard day, his voice raw but sincere.

You smiled, your heart full. “I know. And I love you too—grumpiness, storms, and all.”

In that moment, as the last embers of the day faded into night, everything felt exactly as it should: imperfect, challenging, but undeniably real—and infinitely worth it.

[littlegrapejuice]

Saved his life | LS2

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

Summary: You come to check on Logan after qualifying at the Dutch GP, hoping to lift his spirits.

Author's Note: ok so this literally came to me in a dream😭 logan's replacement was announced on tuesday (still crying about it btw) and istg i woke up wednesday morning after having lived this plot during my sleep

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

You had been seeking him out after FP3, and were once again seeking him out after qualifying. Logan was nowhere to be found and you worried about the state he mentally was in since his crash. The backlash from his team as well as journalists had blown out of proportion, for they were all focusing on the damages suffered by the car before considering the health of the driver.

Similar to you, Logan's fans were doing their best to support him and wondered about how he was doing. You had seen many comments online about people complaining that neither Williams - as in James Vowles - nor commentators had expressed an interest in the well-being of the driver, only talking about ruining a newly upgraded car - which would be proven illegal later on.

Scouring the paddock, you were now going from garage to garage looking for Logan. Obviously, you had first gone to the Williams one but without any success in finding the American. You hadn't even known at first if he was actually at the track, but a quick shot of him on the TV screen had confirmed you that he was indeed in his garage.

This is why as soon as qualifying ended, you had waited for George to come back to the Mercedes garage so that you could notify him that you were leaving for the time being. You had plans together later tonight, meaning that he didn't mind you doing whatever you wanted until then.

And that's thus how you were still walking around the paddock, praying that it wouldn't take much longer to find Logan.

As you then thought you had seen him from afar, someone obviously had to come up to you and stop you in your tracks. You turned around at the tap on your shoulder and was met with a blonde driver, but not quite the one you would've rather faced.

"Hi Max," you said with a smile.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked both because he was genuinely interested in your answer and because he couldn't help but notice you frantically looking around.

"Yeah, I'm good! Congrats on P2, that's great at your home race." You gave a last glance to the side and decided to temporarily abort your mission as you had unfortunately lost sight of who you thought had been Logan.

"Thanks, I wish I could've gotten pole but I'll get the first place from turn one so that's alright."

"I'll be internally rooting for you, but you know I'll have to stick to my roots and publicly support my team."

"Of course," Max replied. "The Red Bull garage is always open if you ever feel like changing your mind. We also probably have better food than Mercedes." He let out a smile at your laugh before scratching his throat, as if he was thinking about his next words. "Listen, I-"

"Sorry Max," you apologised as you checked your watch and got afraid you would miss logan leaving the track. "I'd love to talk more with you but I was on the way to do something important so please make it quick."

"Yeah, hmm... did you have the chance to visit the city and its surroundings? I was thinking that..." Max hesitated before he saw you nodding at him, silently telling him to continue. "We could grab a drink or some food later on, and I can show you around? Seeing as this is my home country, I'm pretty familiar with it so I could give you a proper tour and you'd see things that you would never see with a regular tour guide and-"

"Sounds lovely yeah!" You felt pretty bad for interrupting him once again, but the clock was really ticking and you were getting more nervous. "I already have something planned for tonight though, so maybe another day?"

"Well, there's only tomorrow left then. After the race?" He suggested with hope in his tone.

"I'll get back to you on that. Depending on who's winning, I might be celebrating someone else you know."

"Of course, but I'm pretty confident that I can score another victory here."

"Great, then that's settled! Super cool to chat with you Max, I'll see you later." You waved at him and quickly started walking again to the direction you had last seen Logan several minutes ago.

You were gone so fast that you hadn't even heard Max telling you that he would text you his request again, as he had sensed that your focus had been on all but your exchange with him. You liked Max to be honest; he was a really sweet guy and could easily match your energy as a fellow yapper. However, he had chosen the worst moment to strike up a conversation with you. Thinking about how you could repay it to him next time you'd see him - probably tomorrow, all your stress was going away as you finally found the person you were looking for.

You stopped close enough to him that he would notice you, but a few metres away so that you had time to catch your breath without it being too obvious that you had been almost running around for him.

As he called out your name, you couldn't help the smile that lit up your face.

"You're good?"

"I am now, thanks. Been searching for you, you know? You're quite hard to find," you told him in complete honesty with a light laugh.

"Really?" Logan was surprised by your words. He hadn't expected anyone to come talk to him today, except for his teammate Alex or a couple drivers texting him for a check up.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I couldn't see you after practice earlier and I thought talking to you face to face was better than a text so yes, I was looking for you."

If you and Logan weren't surrounded by hundreds of people, he would definitely shed a tear at your kindness - not like anyone was actually paying attention to the both of you as you were on the side of the path. He didn't think a headline consisting of F1 Driver Logan Sargeant seen crying while talking with F1 Driver George Russel's long-time friend was a good idea though.

"And you wanted to talk to me about something important?" He wondered.

"That's what I said", you replied. "I wanted to talk to you, about you, I guess."

"That's not super-"

"It is," you immediately interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. You knew what he was about to say and you were definitely not letting him give voice to his thoughts. Seeing as he was still taken aback by your words, you kept going. "You're important, Logan. More than a random chassis, or an engine, or whatever they put in the shit car that they make you drive."

Hearing your own sentence, you were about to apologise for the strong opinion - Logan was driving said car so you didn't know if you were right to comment on it - but the chuckle that came from the American stopped you from doing so. It didn't last long as Logan quickly covered his mouth, thus shutting down the sound, but you suddenly wished you could hear it again.

And not because you're trash talking his team, but because you're, let's say, watching a movie together and a funny scene comes up; or because you're walking around a park and he laughs at your clumsiness when you almost trip on a random rock.

You just wished, right now, that you weren't at the track, in this paddock, with all those cars and people around. You just wanted to be with him, in a quiet place where you could just enjoy each other's presence without having to worry about a team principal that didn't take his driver's needs into account or about journalists that couldn't seem to see the human aspect of a driver behind the suit and helmet.

Your thoughts were however soon interrupted when a hand appeared in front of your face.

"Hello? Earth to whatever planet you're on?" Logan had a smile on his face. He wasn't laughing anymore but he didn't seem annoyed either at your silence. "Did you get lost in your mind?"

"Possibly", you answered with a nervous laugh. "Sorry, won't happen again."

"It's fine, don't worry."

You could see Logan was genuine in his eyes. The way they were being lit up by the sun suddenly made you wonder about what was hidden behind it. They often say that eyes are the mirror of the soul; but for now, you could only see yourself in Logan's.

"Hey Logan," you said after a few seconds of silence. He glanced down at you, which you took as a sign to continue. "Do you wanna hang out with me tonight? I- hmm I have this dinner with George, Lando, Alex, and their girls. And it could be nice of you to join. I mean, if you want to of course, and if you don't have anything planned already but yeah, that'd be cool. I'd like that."

When Logan didn't reply, you started to think that it was over and that your stress was so obvious, and that he wasn't going to accept the offer. But then:

"I'd love to." Your gaze was now filled with hope, until the next words left Logan's mouth. "But I think I need to be alone tonight. It's absolutely not against you or the others, but today hasn't been the best day for me as you obviously know and even though it could lighten up my mood, I'd rather focus on tomorrow's race."

"Oh, hmm... okay, yeah... I totally get it, no problem."

Logan was not dumb; he noticed your immediate change of attitude as you lowered your gaze, so he decided to add on to his explanation:

"It's just a raincheck, you know? I'm not going out tonight, but I'd absolutely be down for another day if we both find the time. Sounds good?"

"Yeah!" You nodded with a smile. "Raincheck, okay, got it."

"Sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go for now." Logan gave you a smile before checking his phone. "I'll get back to you for a hang out, but thanks for taking the time to talk with me. I truly appreciate it."

"It's normal, we're friends so... I wasn't really thinking twice about it."

"Then thank you for that as well. We'll see each other later, right?"

"Of course," you confirmed. "Race's tomorrow so at least then, goodbye for now Logan."

"Bye, take care."

He gave you a quick hug before departing, and next thing you knew, he was gone. You then turned around, ready to exit the paddock and go back to your hotel, so that you could get ready for your dinner tonight with your friends.

.....

"George, hey!" You called out to him as you saw him from afar. "Thanks for waiting, sorry I'm a little late."

"No problem," he replied. "I sent Alex and the girls inside to keep us a table. We're just missing Lando, but I think he'll be here soon."

As if on cue, you had received a text. Thinking it was from the curly haired man, you opened it in front of George before reading the sender and the content of the message.

Hi! Regarding our conversation from earlier, I decided to formally ask if you wanted to grab dinner with me tomorrow night after the race?

A smile unknowingly took place on your face, and George couldn't help but notice it.

"What's got you all happy?" He asked before adding a comment. "You're even blushing so I guess this is not Lando."

"It's no one," you said as you immediately locked your phone before George could look at the screen. "Just a friend I'm supposed to catch up with tomorrow."

"You have friends other than us in the Netherlands right now?" A familiar voice questioned from behind you.

"Lando!" George exclaimed as the last of your group was finally here. "Hey mate. Congrats on pole. Good quali you did there."

"Thanks man." Lando glanced at you while the three of you started walking inside the hotel, towards the restaurant. "So what's this about a friend of yours?"

"Drop it Lando," you replied, annoyed - although you could truly never be annoyed with him. "I'll tell you all about it when it's over if you still wanna know after the weekend."

"Of course I will! I'll even bring that up in the groupchat so you'll have to tell this wonderful and absolutely not suspicious story to everyone," Lando laughed as he nudged your side.

Thankfully, neither George nor Lando had brought up the topic with the others, even though they were still curious on what you were hiding. You were glad that they didn't because how could you even explain to them that you would be going out to dinner with a fellow driver? You honestly didn't think they would mind, but you also didn't want them to go and bother said driver when you knew that the paddock's walls had ears everywhere.

Hoping that it would be fine to reply to the text later, you had therefore waited until you were back in your hotel room to agree to the offer. Tonight's dinner had been amazing and you were always happy to spend time with your friends whom you didn't see much, but tomorrow's would be something even more special as it would actually be your first time hanging out one on one with the driver you were maybe fancying.

Before forgetting, you also decided to notify your friends of your plans - omitting the driver aspect of the 'friend' you would be seeing after the race - so that they wouldn't be surprised to not see you attend any celebration. Of course you would try and spend some time with the winner if he was part of your friend group, but at least you were in the clear to not go party all night with them.

.....

And you had never once regretted not attending the party that had celebrated Lando's win at the Dutch Grand Prix. He had told you that day after the race that you would have a myriad of other chances to attend another one as he was planning on winning more and more often - which he did.

Tonight's party, however, would be in your honour. As well as Logan's. And you couldn't see yourself anywhere else than here, in front of him. You truly didn't think you would one day end up in this situation, and neither did he. Logan hadn't really expected to experience such an event in his life, but he eventually did, all thanks to you.

You had saved his life. That day, when you reached out to him after qualifying, was unknowingly a turning point in his life. He had been at his lowest. He had known what would certainly happen following the Grand Prix; he had been expecting to be let go after the disastrous performances he was giving.

Knowing didn't make it less painful though.

He did get dropped by his team, Williams, which you cursed for as long as you could and still did from time to time. And even if Logan had achieved being a Formula One driver - which no one could ever take away from him, he had still felt like he was worthless after it happened.

He hadn't known how to process the sudden end of his short time on the grid and felt lost for a while, wondering about what would define him as a person now that the dream he'd had since he was a child was over.

But you had made him believe that it wasn't the end of the world and that something else was waiting for him. He could've ended it all, but you showed him a glimmer of hope and he chose to keep going, see what else was in store for him. He still had a future. And he had been right to trust you, as he was now here, facing you and about to be making you his. Only two words left to say before doing so.

'Thank you', he mouthed to you before the long-awaited sentence was to be heard out loud. "I do", he then confirmed without tearing his gaze away from your face.

..........

Okayyyy so this it lol

Hope y'all liked it🫶🏻 this was my 1st time ever writing for a driver since i got into motorsports and I feel really happy w it!! Thanks to my brain for making me dream ab logan, i think it kinda helps me cope regarding him not being the grid anymore (i miss him sm chat)

Idk when I'll write again for a driver if i ever do so, but don't hesitate to give feedback on this so that ik how to approach a future work🤍

[kaayyyys]

How twd men react to some one scaring you

(someone jump scares you and they get mad because you were genuinely scared )

(negan smith , daryl dixon, rick grimes)

The afternoon sun dripped golden honey across the Sanctuary's courtyard. You were laughing, head thrown back, the sound like wind chimes as you helped one of the community members, Sarah, untangle a string of fairy lights for an upcoming celebration. Negan was a few feet away, leaning against a wall, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched you. The world, for a fleeting moment, felt almost normal. Almost peaceful.

It happened in a heartbeat. A figure, a boisterous Saviors member named Mark, leapt out from behind a stack of crates with a guttural yell, "Boo!" You hadn't seen him; hadn't heard him approach. Your reaction was immediate and visceral.

A sharp, involuntary scream ripped from your throat. Your hands flew up, knocking against Sarah's arm, and you stumbled backward, heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The fairy lights scattered on the ground. It wasn't just the surprise; it was the echo of past traumas, the ever-present fear that lingered beneath the surface of this new world.

Mark, initially pleased with his prank, began to chuckle, a smug look on his face. "Jeez, (Y/N), didn't mean to scare ya that bad!" Sarah rushed to your side, concern etched on her face. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, he shouldn't have done that." You were still shaking, trying to catch your breath, the remnants of the scream still vibrating in your chest.

The smirk vanished from Negan's face like smoke in the wind. The easygoing demeanor he'd been wearing dropped away, replaced by a cold, hard mask. His eyes, usually filled with a teasing glint when he looked at you, turned glacial. He moved with a speed that belied his size, pushing himself off the wall and stalking toward Mark.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Negan's voice was low, a dangerous rumble that immediately silenced Mark's laughter. The courtyard seemed to hold its breath, everyone sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

Before Mark could stammer out an apology, Negan was upon him. He shoved Mark hard, sending him stumbling backward several feet. "You think that's funny? Scaring someone half to death is your idea of a good time?" The words were laced with venom, each syllable clipped and precise.

Negan advanced on Mark, backing him up against the crates he'd jumped from. "You see this woman?" he snarled, gesturing sharply in your direction. "She's mine. You got that? Mine. And you don't EVER, EVER pull a stunt like that again. Especially not with her."

"You think you’re being funny? Hilarious, even? You’re not. You’re a goddamn moron. A pea-brained idiot who can’t think past his next meal. You got no sense, no brains, and definitely no respect. And now you've just earned yourself a whole heap of trouble."

Negan stepped closer to Mark, invading his personal space, his presence radiating menace. "Let me spell it out for you, real simple, so even you can understand. You so much as look at her the wrong way again, you breathe in her direction without my permission, you even think about pulling another one of your pathetic little pranks, and you'll be wishing you were back dealing with walkers. Got it?"

For emphasis, Negan leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, a chilling promise in his tone. "Because I will make your life a living hell. I will make you regret the day you were born. You will become intimately acquainted with Lucille, and trust me, that's not an experience you'll enjoy. Do. You. Understand?" Mark, pale and trembling, could only nod frantically.

Only then did Negan turn away from Mark, his anger seemingly dissipating as he focused on you. His expression softened, the hard edges of his face smoothing out. He crossed the distance between you in a few strides, his eyes searching yours with concern.

"(Y/N), baby, are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?" His voice was a low rumble, a stark contrast to the fury he'd just unleashed. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks.

"I'm fine," you managed, your voice still a little shaky. "Just... startled." You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his presence. The lingering fear began to recede, replaced by a wave of warmth. Knowing he cared so deeply was a balm to your rattled nerves.

Negan's eyes darkened, a fierce protectiveness burning within them. "He won't be bothering you again. I promise you that." He squeezed your face gently, his gaze unwavering. "Nobody messes with you, (Y/N). Not on my watch."

He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and his unique cologne. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm against your ear, a grounding force in the aftermath of the scare.

"I hate seeing you scared," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "It makes me... crazy." He tightened his grip, holding you as if he were afraid you might disappear. "You're safe with me, (Y/N). Always."

He tilted your head back and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple. The kisses were gentle, reassuring, a silent vow to protect you from all harm.

The courtyard remained quiet, the tension still hanging in the air. Mark was a pathetic, crumpled figure against the crates, avoiding eye contact with everyone. The other Saviors members went back to their tasks, a newfound respect, and perhaps a little fear, in their eyes.

But in Negan's arms, the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heart, and the unwavering promise in his eyes. In that moment, you knew, without a doubt, that you were loved, cherished, and fiercely protected. And as the sun continued to bathe the courtyard in its golden light, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, knowing that with Negan by your side, you could face anything.

The sun dripped golden honey across the Alexandria courtyard, painting everything in a warm, inviting glow. You were there, laughing with a small group of people. The atmosphere was light, a rare and precious thing in this world. Daryl leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he watched you. He didn't always join in the boisterous camaraderie, but your happiness was his solace. He was content just being near you, knowing you were safe and smiling.

He loved the way the sun caught in your hair, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed, the sheer joy that radiated from you. It was a joy he felt privileged to witness, a joy he would fiercely protect.

Suddenly, without warning, a figure leaped out from behind a stack of crates, yelling. Your startled scream pierced the air, a sound that instantly shattered the peaceful tableau. Your hands flew to your chest, heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The laughter died instantly, replaced by a stunned silence.

The prankster, a guy from one of the newer communities, stood there grinning, clearly pleased with himself. "Gotcha!" he crowed, oblivious to the tension that had suddenly thickened the air.

You hated jump scares. They weren't funny, they just left you feeling anxious and shaky. You managed a weak smile, trying to brush it off, but the lingering fear was still evident in your wide eyes.

The moment your scream ripped through the air, something primal ignited within Daryl. It wasn't just annoyance; it was a raw, possessive fury. He moved before he even consciously registered the intent, pushing himself off the wall and stalking towards the prankster with a predatory grace.

His eyes, usually a calm, assessing blue, were now glacial chips of ice. The playful smile was gone, replaced by a grim line. The transformation was immediate and terrifying. Everyone around instinctively took a step back. They knew that look. It was the look of a man pushed to the edge, a man who would protect what was his at any cost.

He stopped inches from the guy, towering over him. Daryl didn't need to shout. His voice, low and gravelly, was far more intimidating. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled, each word laced with venom.

The prankster, who had been so smug moments before, suddenly paled. He stammered, "I… I was just messing around. It was a joke."

"A joke?" Daryl spat the word out like a curse. "You think scaring her half to death is funny? You think it's okay to deliberately frighten someone?" He punctuated his words with a hard shove to the guy's chest, sending him stumbling backward.

"She's been through enough," Daryl continued, his voice rising slightly, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "We all have. We don't need some idiot like you adding to it for your own amusement."

He stepped closer, invading the guy's personal space, his presence radiating a dangerous energy. "You stay away from her," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "You got that? You don't come near her. You don't look at her. You don't even think about her. She's with me. And I don't take kindly to anyone who messes with what's mine."

The possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable. It wasn't just about protecting you; it was about establishing a clear boundary. You belonged to him, and he would defend that claim fiercely.

Turning his back on the now thoroughly cowed prankster, Daryl walked towards you. The anger in his eyes softened slightly as he focused on you, but the protective fire still burned beneath the surface.

He reached out, gently cupping your face in his calloused hands. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern.

You nodded, still a little shaken, but grateful for his presence. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just… startled."

He ran a thumb across your cheekbone, his gaze searching your eyes for any lingering fear. "He won't bother you again," he promised, his voice firm.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a reassuring rhythm in the aftermath of the scare.

He didn't say anything more, but he didn't need to. His arms around you spoke volumes. They were a shield, a promise of safety, a declaration of unwavering love.

In that moment, surrounded by the chaos of the world, you felt safe, cherished, and utterly loved. Daryl Dixon might not be a man of many words, but his actions always spoke louder than any declaration could. His protectiveness wasn't just about keeping you safe from physical harm; it was about safeguarding your heart, your peace of mind, your very being. That was his obsession, his devotion, and his love for you.

Even after things calmed down, Daryl's eyes would occasionally flick towards the prankster, a silent warning etched on his face. He would never fully trust the guy, always wary of any potential threat to your well-being.

He became even more attuned to your moods, noticing the slightest flinch, the faintest shadow of unease in your eyes. He was like a guardian, constantly watching over you, ensuring your safety and happiness.

This obsessive protectiveness wasn't born out of control, but out of a deep, abiding love. He had lost so much in his life, and he clung to you with a fierce desperation, determined to keep you safe from the horrors of the world. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him, a silent promise that he would always be there, your protector, your lover, your everything.

The Alexandria sun dripped golden across the porch where you sat with Rick. His calloused hand, so strong and capable, held yours gently. You were recounting a funny story from before the world went to hell, your laughter intertwining with the chirping of the crickets.

Rick's eyes, usually shadowed by the weight of leadership and loss, softened when he looked at you. He loved these moments of normalcy, the feeling of you beside him, a beacon in the constant darkness. The way your eyes sparkled when you were amused, the gentle curve of your smile – they were his solace.

A sudden, bloodcurdling scream ripped through the peaceful atmosphere. It was your scream. Before Rick could even fully register what was happening, a figure jumped out from behind a bush, laughing boisterously. It was Nicholas, a resident of Alexandria known for his… questionable judgment.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. The image of walkers, of close calls, flooded your mind. Even in the relative safety of Alexandria, the fear was always lurking just beneath the surface. The prank, innocent in its intent, had struck a raw nerve.

Tears welled in your eyes as you gasped for breath, your body trembling uncontrollably. You hated feeling so vulnerable, so exposed. Rick was instantly by your side, his arm wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

The change in Rick was instantaneous and terrifying. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hard fury that sent shivers down the spines of anyone who witnessed it. The hand that had been holding yours now clenched into a fist.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rick's voice was a low growl, a dangerous rumble that promised violence. He pushed himself between you and Nicholas, his body a shield.

Nicholas, initially amused, faltered under Rick's intense gaze. The laughter died in his throat, replaced by a nervous gulp. He hadn't anticipated this reaction, hadn't realized the depth of Rick's feelings for you.

"That wasn't funny, Nicholas," Rick spat, each word laced with venom. "You scared her half to death. Do you have any idea how fragile things are out here? How much she's been through?"

He took a step closer, invading Nicholas' personal space. "She's been through hell. And you thought it would be funny to remind her of it?" Rick shoved Nicholas backward, the force of it surprising the other man.

"You don't ever do that again," Rick warned, his voice rising. "You don't ever touch her, you don't ever scare her. Do you understand me?" There was a primal possessiveness in his tone, a clear declaration that you were his, and no one would be allowed to cause you harm or distress. The message was clear: cross this line again, and you'll regret it.

Nicholas, thoroughly cowed, mumbled an apology and quickly retreated, avoiding eye contact. The other residents who had gathered to watch the spectacle dispersed, whispering amongst themselves.

Rick turned back to you, his anger softening as he saw the lingering fear in your eyes. He knelt down, bringing himself to your level. "Hey," he said softly, cupping your face in his hands. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, tears finally spilling over. "I'm just… scared," you whispered. "It just reminded me…"

Rick pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "I know, baby. I know. I've got you. He won't bother you again. I promise."

He held you for a long time, his presence a solid, reassuring weight against your trembling body. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that slowly calmed your own racing pulse.

Rick's protectiveness wasn't just about physical safety; it was about shielding you from the emotional scars of the past, about creating a safe haven where you could finally find peace. He knew he couldn't erase the horrors you had witnessed, but he could offer you a sanctuary, a place where you could feel loved, cherished, and safe.

As you leaned into his embrace, you knew that Rick's reaction wasn't just about anger; it was about love. It was about his fierce, unwavering devotion to you, his willingness to protect you at any cost.

In that moment, you understood the depth of his feelings for you, the intensity of his possessiveness. It wasn't a controlling possessiveness, but a protective one, born out of a deep-seated fear of losing you.

Rick tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours. "I love you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "More than anything. I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever."

You reached up and traced the lines on his face, the map of his struggles and his strength. "I love you too, Rick," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

He didn't let you out of his sight for the rest of the day. He kept you close, his hand always within reach, a constant reminder of his presence and his protection.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, wrapped in his arms, you knew that you were safe. You were loved. And you had a man who would move heaven and earth to keep you that way. Rick Grimes was your protector, your lover, your home. And in a world filled with chaos and danger, that was all that mattered. His hand caressing your hair was the last thing you felt before drifting off to sleep, feeling safer than you had in a long time.

[thebearer]

omg the part in that one blurb where reader makes a joke about being able to skip a meal and then carmy’s just like tf did you just say is so important to me as someone that has a long (and uneasy) history with body image and healthy eating habits

i was wondering if you had blurb/general thoughts/ideas on how carmy would react to the reader having a harder than usual time with body image for whatever reason

maybe they make one too many jokes or little comments about feeling insecure and carmy’s just not having it lol

carmen, with every ounce of love i have in my heart for him, would not be good with handling that. simply because he understands not liking yourself (like the idea of it, he can't fathom why you don't) but he grew up where food was kind of an act of love. he'd never hear an "i'm sorry" ever in his life, but his mom would very much so be the type to say "i have dinner ready for you" and that was as much as an apology as he'd get.

the first time you're kinda not eating, carmen's like trying to joke with you. "the food not good? don't like it?"

and you assure him that's not it. "i just... i'm not really hungry."

carmen's confused bc you've been together all day and you only had an iced coffee in the morning. "no way." he shook his head. "you haven't eaten all day. if you don't like it, baby, it won't hurt my feelings, i promise. nothin' you can say that a chef in new york didn't say, they said worse too. just tell me what you want and-"

"-carmen, it's ok. it's really good, i'm just not really hungry." you smile. "i need to not eat today anyways. my jeans are so tight-"

"-what?" carmen thinks you're joking at first, brows creasing with a small grin. until he sees your face. "you're-you're being serious?"

"well, kinda..." you mutter.

"that's... don't say that." carmen shook his head. "please, don't-don't do that, that's insane."

your face falls at his tone, you know he doesn't mean to be so hard about it, but you can't help but feel worse, like carmen's mad at you. in a way he is, but not out of anger, out of love. out of not wanting you to hurt yourself like that.

"i just... i feel gross, and i'm starting to look it-"

"- i think you look beautiful." carmen mutters. he sounds hurt, genuinely hurt by what you're saying, like you said them to him. "i don't... i don't like that you do that to yourself." he admitted after a moment. he'd been going to therapy, working on channeling his emotions out when he felt them instead of bottling them in, leading him to an anxiety attack.

"i'm sorry." you whisper, unsure of what else to say.

"no, it's not... i don't want you to apologize or- or feel bad, i just... i felt like i should say it." carmen's eyes lifted to yours. "that you don't need to do that."

you can't help the way your chest rushes with heat, anxiously picking up the spoon in front of you. you're not sure what to say, most of the time, most guys kinda brush it off. act like it's nothing or ignore it- some agreeing. no one ever got... hurt by it like this. like you were hurting them too.

maybe it was the guilt. maybe it was the fact that carmen looked so sad. whatever it was, you weren't sure, but you were fucking hungry- and the pasta was good.

you hesitantly took a bite, ignoring carmen's eyes tracking you. "it is really good." you hum, trying to break the obvious tension in the room.

"you don't have to eat it, i-i don't want you to feel pressured to." carmen shook his head. "but i'll make you something else? could i make you something else? whatever you want."

you blushed, looking down. you knew what he meant. he was trying to help in the only way he knew how to, by cooking. "carmen-" you sigh.

"no, it's... it's not good to not eat, ya know?" carmen looked up at you. "you have to eat but-but if you don't want pasta, i get it. i'll make you whatever if that's what you want." he looked at you pointedly. "but don't ever think you need to do anything like that f'me. i think you're perfect no matter what. love you no matter what. you know that, told you i'd still love you even if you were a worm."

you snorted lightly, his reference to the tiktok trend you'd done on him a while ago. "thanks, bear." you mutter, grabbing his hand lightly. "i-i would like, if it's not too much and you have all the stuff, that greek goddess salad sydney was testing the other day? i've been craving it."

"heard." carmen nodded, standing towards the fridge.

"if it's not too much trouble-"

"-c'mon." carmen scoffed, looking at you sweetly. "it'll take me fifteen minutes max. sit down f'me, alright. i got it."

[yooglefics]

hii! its been a few days since i found u and i love ur writing and stories!! could i request a fic where yoongi and (possibly) female reader have a fight over jealousy (its either her or him or both even idk) and its a little angsty idk but then they make up and its all fluffy 🤓🤓 thank u in advance luv

Hellooo. Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting this! I really enjoyed writing this pair and some angst, I did a hint of both being jealousy, but is mostly him haha. Sorry it took me a while to finally post it, but I wanted it to be good, and I hope you like it!

Jealous, jealousy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader  Wordcount: 2,467 words Genre: AU. Established relationship. Angst and comfort / fluff.  Summary: Jealousy has never been a problem in your relationship, not until a comment can't leave Yoongi's mind and interactions at your office’s party just make it worse. Content warnings under read more.

Includes: Jealous Yoongi. People thinking there's something between Jin and Reader… even Yoongi. Miscommunication. They argue. And then they're cute.

It all starts with the perilla leave question between Yoongi's friends one night out and a few rounds of soju in. As a self-identified non-jealous person, his answer was that it didn't mean anything, and even told the story about how it happened a few days ago when your coworker joined you two for lunch.

Jungkook, the non-identified most jealous person of the group, had obviously called him stupid. Questioned him about that guy and told him to be careful. “If I were you, Yoongi, I'd keep my eye on him.”

Little rascal; didn't even bother to use honorifics with him anymore.

But the worst thing is that the idea is now on his head and not even Yoongi knows how bad it is about to get as he steps into your office party a few weeks later. Now having the opportunity to see his girlfriend and her favorite coworker interact more in a familiar environment.

Even the ones who don't know Yoongi a lot, know he can be pretty reserved around new people, that's why you continue to make your polite round of interactions after saying hi and leaving him at a table with a whiskey and snacks. Promising to come back as soon as possible.

He looks at you across the room, all professional and sweet, the queen of small talk and polite smiles, and one forms on his own lips without realizing. Only doing so when it's erased as someone greets him, sitting down beside him and he tries to follow your steps at looking, at least, a bit cordial. 

“I don't think I've seen you before. Are you here with ( y / n ) or Seokjin?”

“Yes, with ( y / n ).”

“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised, “I didn't know she was inviting someone.” 

“Well, I like supporting her, don't really need the invitation” he chuckles a bit awkwardly, “I'm her boyfriend.”

“Oh, so she is dating someone?” Again, the surprise in her tone makes Yoongi believe is a true emotion, and that confuses him.

“For a few years now, yes.”

“And here I was thinking that those two were going to be the next office romance,” she says sounding disappointed before realizing, “oh my— not that it's bad they don't, just… they are both attractive and you know…”

«Is that supposed to make it better?», he wants to ask, but instead he laughs, trying to dismiss everything as her hand lays on his forearm that is resting on the table, trying to reassure him as she goes on about him being handsome too and whatnot.

He stopped listening now. Because after that interaction, one hour seems long enough when half of that you have spent besides that guy, and Jungkook's words keep growing in his head as if he were watering them with the sweet alcohol. The one he has to switch hands to sip from now, because your coworker keeps the other prisoner of her hand. 

Not even the excuse ( that is actually not really an excuse because he needs it ) to get a refill works and she only stops rambling his ear off when someone arrives at the place and she finally leaves the table to greet them.

“I saw you made a friend,” your sweet smile is almost enough to make him forget his thoughts when he is joined by you at the bar while ordering another whiskey.

“Well, figure I should while you had fun with yours.” he shrugs in an effort to dismiss negative feelings.

“Wait, did you actually make friends with her?” is your turn to sound surprised, corners of your mouth falling a little.

“Is a problem if I did?”

“I… I mean, I was joking but I don't like her very much. You can make friends with other people, though.”

“Ah, thanks for the clear up.” He walks back to the table to sit down, and even he can acknowledge it was a weird response, so, your next question doesn’t shock him.

“Are you okay?”

“What if I made friends with your best friend, what's his name?” he asks instead. Comments from others blurring his psyche, making him act without much thinking.

“Jin?”

“Is that his name? She called him Seokjin”

“Well, Seokjin, Jin for short. What's the big deal?”

“Nothing. Just… that's what she said when she asked who I was here with,” he explains before taking a sip.

“Of course she asked you that,” and eye roll accompanies your words. 

“Yeah, because apparently you didn't say you invited your boyfriend.” but he thinks there is more important matters than you not liking your coworker. “As a matter of fact she didn't know you had a boyfriend.”

“Because is none of her business. She doesn't need to know about my relationship.”

“She does when she is talking about you and Seokjin having a romance.”

“What?!”

“Sorry. You and Jin.”

“Shut up, you know that's not what I meant. Can't believe she said that.” You steal a sip from his whiskey before continuing, “No actually, I can.”

He buffs. “You can?”

“Yeah, I told you, she is… not likable.”

“Just that? Not because it would be believable for you two to be together?” He asks, his annoyance clearer as seconds go by.

“Jin and I? Please, that's ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

“Why? Are you jealous?” You inquire, playfully. As if it would be impossible to be true.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Really?! But you have never been jealous.”

“Maybe I am now.” 

“Because of Jin?” you’re confused at how serious he is being, but before you can question more about it, you’re interrupted by said guy.

“Oh, I was summoned. Hi.” he greets your partner, so casually since he doesn’t realize Yoongi is mad with him too. “Can you come back? I don't want to interact with those people alone.”

You look at your co-worker and friend for a few seconds, and then to your boyfriend, trying to understand what is happening and if he is actually jealous. Him, Min Yoongi, the less jealous person you’ve ever met.

“Go, have fun.” Your boyfriend encourages you, managing a smile that only confuses you more because is clear to you that it’s not genuine.

What the hell is happening?

You’re surrounded with interactions the rest of the night, from your co-workers to their partners, people seem interested in Jin and you, after all, it’s the first big party since the both of you joined the company. Even when you go back to sit with Yoongi people get close to make conversation, one person actually asks about wedding planing and tells you she can get you in contact with someone. You know she means well so, with your best smile, you thank her and change the subject.

You hate those conversations. 

Having spent your childhood between your parents’ fights because «staying together for their kids» was a priority, when in reality it only made it worse for everyone involved, you grew up hating the idea of getting married. You understand it is for love, but you don't need a paper or a big party to announce that you love Yoongi. You don't need a ring on your finger to promise you'll do it forever. You don't need him to propose, let alone ask your parents permission to do so. 

Is your life, your decisions. The only opinion that matters other than yours is Yoongi's and he has always understood, never pressured you. He is the love of your life, after all.

In the car on the way home, the silence is filled with music from the stereo and you try to take Yoongi’s hand on the gear lever as always, but only a couple of seconds pass before he pulls away, both hands on the wheel now. 

Trying to figure out if it was on purpose, you ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

“You spend a lot of time with him,” he says without a beat.

“You told me to go.”

“I mean in general.”

“We work together, can't really do much about that.”

“You weren't working tonight and still it was like you were joined at the hip.” he hasn’t looked at you and you can’t decide if it hurts or bothers you more.

“Again, you told me to go at the end,” you argue. “ If you wanted me to stay with you, you could have said so.”

“Now I have to ask you to spend time with me?”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, honey.” you poke his cheek, softly. An attempt to lighten the mood a little.

“That’s not the point.” His tone is just as serious. And then you know that, whatever this is, it’s deeper than you thought.

“What is it then?” you genuinely ask, annoyance starting to build up inside you, but trying to stay calm. Surely he can tell, you think. “You’re clearly upset, but why?”

“Shouldn't I be? When my girlfriend keeps hanging out with this good-looking dude and everyone thinks they could be a thing?” 

“Really?” How can he even entertain those thoughts? You with another man? Doesn’t he hear how ridiculous it sounds? “Shouldn't I be upset because you let her touch your arm for like five minutes straight?”

“She was trying to console me.”

“Yeah, that actually makes it worse, Yoongi.” 

“Yoongi?” 

“That's your name.” He finally looks your way, but you’re looking at the road ahead of you and he can’t tell it is just in order to calm down.

“Wait. Why are you turning things on me?”

“Because you're being irrational and I'm not having this conversation.”

Once again the music is the only sound filling the air, and you opt for folding your arms in front of your chest to stop you from reaching for his hand again.

Now both of you are mad. Great. 

Arriving home, he still gets out of the car first to open the door for you, and it helps soften the heartache a little. But still, the night repeats in your head, trying to understand what happened. 

Why suddenly spending time with Jin is a problem? Why is Yoongi so jealous about it? And why—

“You let her touch you after she said Jin and I had a thing?” you ask as both of you are finally in the bedroom, getting ready to end the night. 

“Thought we weren't having this conversation.”

“No. This one is different. This one is about you potentially doing things because you were upset with me.”

“That would be stupid.” He stops his movements, shirt unbuttoned just halfway through. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, you aren't exactly acting like yourself tonight.”

“Because I'm jealous?”

“Because we are fighting about you being jealous.” And trying to calm down once again, you continue taking your dress off, struggling with the zipper but too proud to ask him for help right now.

“Okay, let's not fight, then.” He sits down on his side of the bed. “Just answer this question: do you like him?” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Just answer. Please.” when you finally turn to him, the look on his face is different from what you expected. He doesn't seem angry, but hurt. Like your answer could break him.

“Of course not. Not like that.” You emphasize. Giving up on your clothes and kneeling in front of him, taking a breath before continuing. “You know we started at the same time and he is always nice and fun, I think he is my only friend at work because everyone else keeps asking me when I'm going to get married and leave. Like your friend.”

“What?”

“The lady you were talking to. Is always asking personal questions and I don't like it. Not because I don't like talking about you, I love you and I talk with Jin about you all the time, but is just…”

“Not her business. And you don't have to explain yourself to others.” he completes. Yoongi is the first to always remind you that after all.

“Exactly.” 

“Sorry.” he is quick to say, feeling like an asshole now, a hand running through his hair, messing it up, “I really don’t know what is up with me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Were you actually jealous of Jin?” the disbelief in your voice is funny now, and he nods with a chuckle. “That’s surprising coming from you.”

“I know. Is dumb.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you move closer to him, hands on his shoulders to make him look at you, “your feelings are not dumb, Yoongi.”

“Can you stop calling me by my name tonight?”

“Sorry,” both of you laugh softly, “but I mean it. Even if it’s irrational to be jealous of anyone because I love you so very much and wouldn’t even dream to be with someone else; your feelings are important, honey. Just… you know, we have to work on a better way of expressing them.”

He chuckles again, still feeling bad about it all but appreciating the reassurance. “I will, promise. I just never felt like this before, is… weird.”

Yoongi has always thought jealousy is stupid. He understands feeling insecure and all that, but acting like he did tonight has always been something he didn’t understand. Something he judged. He thought it was about bad communication, distrusting your partner, and things like that. And, if you don’t trust the person you love, does it make sense to be together? But maybe is not as simple as that.

He didn't care if you had your own friends and went out with them, like some of the people he knows do. He has his own opinion on marriage and engagement rings. But maybe he cares in other ways. Maybe he cares about people thinking you're with someone else because that's probably his biggest fear.

“I don’t like jealousy.” he speaks again, bringing his arms around your waist, hugging you close and resting his head against your torso.

“Good, that means you are not toxic.” A pause while your hand combs through his hair, putting black strains back in place, “and now you know how I feel when people hit on you.”

“People don’t do that.” 

“They do,” he looks up at you, but before he can argue anything, you cup his face and bend a little to peck his lips, softly. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone with her and without a warning.”

“I tried to get away but she wouldn't let go of my arm and I didn't want to be rude.” 

His bottom lip sticks out in a small pout and you kiss it away, “Yoonie, sometimes you’re too nice for your own good.”

“Maybe I should be just nice to you.”

“You're too nice for that,” he rolls his eyes, making you laugh even more, “that's why I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

Protect them 🥺  Let me know what you think. comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or whatnot. Thank you for reading <3 ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle , @kimtaehussy . 

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[knight-of-flowerss]

Dad!Trucker!Cregan sounds like the quote of "he may be an asshole, but he's OUR asshole"

HEHEH YES HE IS OMG 😭 deffo giving reader like oh my DAYS!!

Also icl, I imagine reader having a voice like Tami-Lynn from Ted/Ted 2 ngl 😭

Trucker!Cregan x Pregnant!Reader

MASTERLIST

Like, imagine Cregan's being a little prick in public when you're just trying to do the grocery shopping. He's flicking you, smacking your ass, making sarcastic comments, just absolutely sending you through the roof which ends in you scolding him like a child in the frozen food section.

"Cregan! I swear to fuckin' god! Leave me alone! You're being a fuckin' asshole!" You attempt to smack him before pushing him away, grabbing some oven chips (ik fries but I'm British leave me alone 😔).

He cackles as he watched your little freak out, his shoulders literally racking as he doubles over. You roll your eyes, walking away two fridges down. As you walk away, a guy walks up to Cregan.

"Hey man, leave her alone. She doesn't want you near her. Quit being an asshole." This random guy crosses his arms, trying to square up to Cregan. His laughs slowly subside, his grin being replaced by a cocky smirk as he moves himself to his full height, towering over the guy, "Really?.. And who are you? Huh?"

This dude sees Cregan's size and still tries to intimidate him, Cregan had to admit, the dudes got balls. "I'm a guy who doesn't like people pestering young girls. What are you, twice her age? It makes you look like a creepy asshole, leaver her alone-" , "Uh- excuse me?"

A flat bitchy tone came from behind him. The guy turns and sees you, sighing softly, "Hi ma'am, I'm so sorry for this man bothering you, but I'm dealing with it-" , "So you think I can't handle myself? Don't fuckin' play the chivalry card with me motherfucker."

The guy looks genuinely shocked, stunned even, but Cregan looks like he's about to burst out laughing at the situation. "Uh-.. ma'am, he was touching you and pestering you- I mean, even you have to admit, he's a fucking asshole-" , "He might be an asshole but he's my asshole! And if I ever hear you fuckin' talk to him like that again, I'll fuckin' come for you. Just 'cause 'm knocked up don't mean I can't protect myself from this dumb fuck!"

The guy is left stunned, stuttering over his words as he stares at you, your hand over your swollen belly as you glare at him.

He is a fucking asshole, oh 100%, but no one better ever fucking call him that in front of you. Only you get to shout at the annoying fucker.

I really can't tell if I like this or not 😭it's lowkey so bad 💀

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[karmacharmeleon18]

I just went through your AFTG posts and may I ask: what are your feelings about Kevin?

Oooh. Oh. Oh, anon... idk if you're a Kevin Day fan or not, for the sake of things I'll assume you're a completely neutral party so I can tell it how it is without the need to mince words. If this alarms you then perhaps you are a Kevin Day fan and you should stop reading now 😂❤

If you’ve read my posts then you’ve noticed English isn’t my first language, so be prepared for things to make little sense at times😅 I’m trying my best, though, I promise ❤ I’m also autistic and not great at conveying the right tone, especially online, so I’m sorry if I sound mean or rude, it is not directed at you, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings in any way ❤ This is SUPER LONG and I’m sorry if it’s not what you were looking for, but once I get going I can’t stop 😅 I’m not joking, this is literally over 20k words of Kevin Day analysis 🙃

In the shortest possible terms, my feelings about Kevin are... complicated.

I liked him as a character in AFTG, I do not like him now.

This might make no sense to you, but I kind of divide the character into two: AFTG Kevin and the New Trilogy Kevin. My feelings differ greatly between the two. Of course I know it’s always the same character, the brainrot hasn’t gotten that bad lol Nora writes him very consistently, and I noticed nothing OOC for him in these new books.

But the amount of info and insights we get about him is what changed between one trilogy and the next, and that is what made all the difference for me.

AFTG Kevin:

In AFTG I found Kevin fascinating.

An Exy prodigy who in the eyes of the public can do no wrong and yet falls from grace, finds himself in a team of misfits, bottom of the barrel, from riches to rags.

A guy so traumatized he can only function if another person devotes his entire life to his safety.

And yet he's endlessly arrogant, bitchy, self-centered and confident. Confident not as a person, but as an athlete, and for him that's the same thing, you know? He exists to play Exy and he's the best at it, and that's all that matters.

Which is why Kevin is so, so good at ignoring his own hypocrisy.

Because he's acing this Exy thing, so who cares if he's not acing this "being a human being outside of the Nest" thing. You get what I'm saying?

He gives everyone around him a hard time for being less than perfect. But he genuinely cannot see his own failings. Because as long as he's the best at Exy, Kevin Day is perfect and there's nothing you can say about him. You better keep your mouth shut and obey.

Kevin takes, and takes and takes from everyone around him and the only thing he's capable of giving back is his Exy expertise, which he doles out to the others with all the subtlety and gentleness of a rock to the teeth. I’d rather be in the passenger seat of the Maserati with a sugar-high Andrew behind the wheel going 100mph for funsies than train for an hour under Kevin Day.

(It doesn’t help that Waymack indulges him, because he doesn’t really care about his Foxes winning, he just wants them to play and find stability in the routine, the discipline it takes to be Exy players; winning is a bonus; to the anon from the other day, if you’re reading this: I agree with you so much that Coach Rhemann and the Trojans would’ve humbled Kevin real quick ❤ but Waymack just isn’t that type of coach, of person; for him the mere fact that the Foxes survive without killing each other is a miracle, hoping for more is just senseless wishful thinking… until Neil)

In the face of danger Kevin hides behind a guy who's 5ft tall and expects him to put his life on the line to protect him. Neil makes Andrew lift his promise to protect him when he knows he’s about to die, because he doesn’t want Andrew to suffer the consequences of a broken promise, and because he doesn’t want him to get involved and be in actual danger. But Kevin clings to Andrew and will always expect and want Andrew to put himself in danger for him. And when things go wrong, he's a defeatist, he sees no point in fighting, he just drinks. But gods forbid if someone around him indulges in junk food, that’s an unforgivable sin and you’re a terrible human being and a waste of oxygen and how can you sleep at night, go run some drills right now to make up for your useless existence, you worthless piece of--

At any other point in time Andrew would never tolerate someone like Kevin. Someone with a victim mentality (rightfully so, don’t get me wrong) and yet at the same time high and mighty and loud about it.

But Andrew is a giver and a taker. He gives promises and takes reasons to live. He’s always been far more desperate than Kevin. Desperate to have a relationship with his brother and cousin, willing to join the Foxes and go to college only on the condition that they be granted the same scholarship. Willing to endure years of horrible abuse to get a mother out of it. Willing to throw that same mother and all those years of enduring in the trash and go to juvie, all to spare a brother he doesn’t even know his same fate. He is depressed. He is apathetic except he isn’t, but no one sees that until Neil. I’ve never seen a character as suicidal and at the same time as desperate to live as Andrew Minyard. As hopeful – without even realizing it - for something better to come. Considering all he’s been through, Andrew should’ve given up on life a long time ago. And yet he keeps enduring, and he keeps searching for reasons to live and offering people deals that bind him to this existence, because deep down he is hopeful. And in this desolate landscape, Kevin Day is the perfect object to dump all of his protective instincts on. And so he gets a reason to live, and something to focus on, still enduring and subconsciously waiting for something, anything to get better.

What saves their relationship (not even a friendship, according to Nora) is that Andrew is completely immune to Kevin’s tantrums and orders. Andrew is in control, always, and Kevin does not have the capacity to challenge him.

(“If you tell him to submit, he will,” Kevin says of Jean, and the irony is in the fact that he’s exactly the same when it comes to Andrew; but luckily for him most of the time Andrew doesn’t care about submission, he only cares about peace and quiet)

The Foxes are the worst thing that could've happened to Kevin. The golden Son of Exy surrounded by misfits, criminals but worst of all: commoners. Peasants. A bunch of kids as far removed from the Ravens - the elite - as can be. And most of them barely have any interest in Exy.

Only Kevin, Andrew, Neil and Matt will go pro (and even then, according to the Extra Content, Matt will always put his family with Dan first, only choosing teams near her and giving a shot at Court but leaving when juggling two teams takes too much time away from her and their kids). Compared to the Ravens, brutal, driven, ambitious, all aiming to go pro and be Court, Kevin is very much living a nightmare during his first year at Palmetto, where on top of the Foxes being his new teammates, his hand is freshly shattered and he thinks he’ll never get to play again.

Kevin ends up with the Foxes out of necessity, they're his last resort, his last hope. And here's where the parallels with Neil really start. Because for him, too, the Foxes are the only chance he has to play.

But where Kevin is hellbent on making everyone around him miserable, because his whole life he’s been convinced that greatness is born from misery, Neil wants to make everyone around him better for the sake of being better.

Better Exy players, but better people, too. Neil understands you can’t have one without the other. But Kevin is so single-mindedly focused on Exy that he doesn’t care about the people, he only cares about the athletes.

Neil is resigned to the fact that he’s going to die, and he wants to see the Foxes get better for themselves, so that after his death, they can keep playing, keep winning, keep having fun, keep doing the game justice.

But Kevin wants the Foxes to get better for him. Because he is Kevin Day and he deserves a good team.

And that’s why, no matter how hard he tries, he ends up failing over and over again. It’s only when Neil joins the team that things get better, it’s through his meddling, the way he humanizes the Monsters in the eyes of the others and bridges the gap between the two groups, the way he gets Andrew and Aaron to begrudgingly “reconcile” under Bee’s guidance, the way he gets Andrew to care, care about Neil, and himself, and Exy, that the Foxes finally become what Kevin always wanted. Sort of.

Leave it to him and he will always resort to insults and Raven drills and hierarchy and he’s the Queen of Exy and you’re just a worthless peasant compared to him and--… you get it. The Foxes are definitely not at the level he wants them to be. Which is why Kevin is happy when the Trojans win the championship over them (in the Extra Content, which is ever-changing at the moment, so this isn’t canon). The Trojans deserve it. The Foxes do not. If there’s one thing I can say about Kevin Day, is that he is objective when it comes to the game (not when it comes to himself as a person lol).

Kevin’s relationship with Jeremy is fascinating to me (again, not a friendship according to Nora). In my opinion Jeremy represents all that Kevin wants to be. A golden child of Exy who joined an average team and made it the best there is (outside of the Ravens) without the brutality, the abuse, the misery of the Nest. Jeremy made the Trojans great, not a damn red or even yellow card in 4 years of playing a sport as violent as hockey, at a collegiate level. He’s never won a championship until now, but Kevin understands why and forgives Jeremy for it. Because Jeremy will always chose sportsmanship over victory, so of course they can’t win the whole thing. Because in a contact sport brute force and cheap shots will always prevail (if slick and perfected enough). But that’s a line Jeremy will never cross, and despite himself, Kevin admires him for it.

Another interesting relationship is the one between him and Thea. In AFTG and the Extra Content, Thea is a Raven™, a Riko apologist through and through, the type of person to tell Kevin to just get over his trauma and think of the game. On one hand, she’s the worst possible person for Kevin to be with. On the other hand, she’s the only person Kevin can be with.

I know most of the fandom hates Thea, but tbh I never cared about her, she’s pretty much a non-character to me and I don’t care who Kevin ends up with. But I acknowledge that being with someone like Thea means that Kevin will most likely never heal.

Here’s where my opinion differs the most from the general opinion the fandom shares: I think Thea is a victim too.

She too was in a cult. She too spent years in a brutal team were sex was a commodity. She is a woman, a woman of color at that. Her life wasn’t easy. She suffered as much as any Raven, as much as Kevin, or possibly even more, bar the hand.

But the thing about Thea is that she doesn’t see herself as a victim. The way all ex Ravens who graduated before Riko’s death don’t see themselves as victims.

They see themselves as the best, not despite the Nest, but because of it.

And until Riko shattered his hand, Kevin was the exact same.

He grew up in a cult, but he was never injured, never sexually abused, and in general, both him and Riko saw themselves as being above having sex with fellow Ravens. Thea was the only exception for Kevin because she was the best backliner and above all, she didn’t beg, she didn’t try to seduce Kevin to get a number on the perfect Court. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t care less about Kevin, he had to pursue her, and she only accepted to have sex with him because he was attractive and sex is a good way to let out steam, that’s the way things are in the Nest.

People are disgusted by the age difference (4 years iirc) and the fact that Kevin met Thea when she was a college Freshman and he was in high school. But although he was immediately attracted to her, she felt nothing for him. She probably saw him as a besotted puppy following her around, the same way she saw Jean (though I doubt they interacted all that much, she was living under the brutal regime of the Nest, she didn’t have the time or inclination to notice a boy drooling over her). Their “relationship” only started once Kevin was in the Nest, he was 18, and he was the one to pursue her. And she accepted his advances because, again, that’s the way of the Nest.

Their affection for one another comes much later, and will only concretize once they’re both out of the Nest, most likely only when they’re both on the same pro team and actually living their life together (from what I gathered from the Extra Content).

I know that a 4 year age gap feels like a big power imbalance in college, but lets be objective: in the Nest Kevin is the one who has power over Thea.

Jean and Neil were property, the Ravens (Thea) were assets, but Kevin was Riko’s brother.

We know how little brotherhood means in the world of the Moriyamas, but the point is: Kevin never saw himself as a victim. And he never saw the Ravens as victims either. When someone was being abused, he turned his head and ignored it, he didn’t intervene, he didn’t really care because it’s all for the game.

To this day, I don’t know if Kevin considers himself a victim of the Nest. A victim of Riko, sure, because of the shattered hand that almost ended his career. But had that not happened, Kevin would’ve kept training and playing with the Ravens, happily ignoring the abuse around him.

Because here are no victims in the Nest, only great players, and he’s better than all of them.

The only exception is Jean. Jean is property, he is treated as an object, as an animal. For the first time in his life Kevin has to acknowledge just how fucked up the Master and Riko are. He turns his head and ignores the abuse, he doesn’t intervene. But for the first time it takes something out of him. It weighs on him. Cracks start forming.

But he still asks Jean to teach him French, despite knowing full well what the consequences would be for Jean. And he still leaves Jean to die under Riko’s wrath. The cracks finally shatter along with his hand and he abandons Jean to be tortured to death.

So, in AFTG, I found Kevin insufferable but compelling. He is such a good character, and the whole story revolves around him (don’t tell him tho his ego is inflated enough as it is lol). He's Riko's brother, the traumatized prodigal son knocking on Waymack's door with a broken hand, he's the one that chooses Neil and sets the plot for the whole saga into motion. I never liked him as an individual, but I did like him as a character (as all the Foxes, and tbh I think that's exactly the point of the story: they are not good people, but they are compelling characters). Kevin had all the traits of a good character, all the complexities, the contradictions.

But in this new trilogy, I simply can't stand him lol the less I see of him, the better.

New Trilogy Kevin

I honestly don’t want to talk too much about this version of Kevin. That’s how little I like him. New Trilogy Kevin and Thea go hand in hand in my eyes.

They’re still victims of a fucked up system, they’re still doomed to suffer the consequences of their upbringing for the rest of their lives, not only in terms of being victims of abuse (Thea less so, because she’ll never see herself as a victim, meanwhile Kevin sees himself as Riko’s victim, but I still don’t know if he sees himself as a victim of the Nest in general), but in terms of social impairment.

Nora said Kevin doesn’t have friends. Not even Neil and Andrew (or Jeremy, they only text like three times a year, before Jean) count as friends right now, it will take years, when they are all pro and in the national team together. And maybe after he retires he’ll be able to make some acquaintances or even friends at the park or something and be a proper functioning adult. But for now Thea is the closest thing to a friend/companion Kevin has, simply because they share the same type of obsession with Exy.

Neil and Jean are obsessed as well, but it’s not the same type of obsession, and Nora said that Kevin’s betrayal has forever destroyed any chances of becoming friends with Jean. They are acquaintances, and at the moment Jean would like to see Kevin dead, especially when Kevin calls him “brother” after he left him to be tortured to death, especially when Kevin is such a hypocrite, telling Jean to get his life together while at the same time being a barely functioning alcoholic himself.

The Nest fucked Thea and Kevin up. They are both victims, and I still see them as such in this new trilogy.

But for the first time I’ve realized just how little Thea (&allRavens) cares about the abuse that happened in the Nest.

She saw a sixteen year old boy be passed around like a sex doll and she holds it against him, she blames him for the beating that almost killed him because he might have been “up to his old tricks” that he knows the Master doesn’t tolerate so seriously Jean, what were you expecting, what the fuck were you thinking, mh?, she considers him a slut, like all the Ravens do, when he was just a child and he was raped over and over again and was beaten black and blue and forced to play with broken bones and she knew, she knew, and all of them knew and still they blame Jean and think he deserved it and they tell him so.

And for the first time I truly, 100% realized that if Riko had not shattered his hand, Kevin would’ve become a Raven apologist with his whole being, just like Thea, just like all the other Ravens.

Kevin constantly pulls rank with Jean, he constantly acts like he knows better, like he’s owed everything he wants from the people around him. And the worst part is that the people around him bow to him. The narrative indulges him. Constantly. Kevin Day is perfect and if you don’t agree you are the problem.

Kevin likes having power over people. He likes that Jean “doesn’t know” how to fight back with him (or with anyone, in his opinion).

He thinks that’s the natural order of things: he is Kevin Day, the Son of Exy, the Queen of the Court, and you must obey his every order.

For the first time, I truly see the similarities between Kevin and Riko. What Kevin could have become, had he stayed in the Nest. And I don’t like what I see.

Someone please humble that bitch, I’m begging. I need Kevin Day to be humbled or at the very least to shut the hell up. I need the narrative to put him in his place. Instead he keeps getting what he wants, and public praise, he plasters on his camera-ready smile and persona and suddenly all he has done to Jean doesn’t matter (not only in the narrative, this applies to the fandom too, maybe even more so).

So if after AFTG I was like: Kevin and Thea deserve each other because they understand each other like no one else can, eventually they’ll realize they were both victims and find comfort in each other ☹️

now I’m like: Kevin and Thea deserve each other because they’re the exact same type of terrible person 🤢 and even if they realize they were abused, they will still think they are better, worth more than the other victims, because they are Thea and Kevin and if you don’t like it, you are wrong.

And if you are Jean Moreau, sold and shipped off at 14, raped from the age of 16, betrayed by the only man you ever trusted and left by him to die, shamed and blamed by the woman you looked up to, and you don’t forgive and forget, you are wrong.

At the end of the day, Kevin Day is the only one who matters. The Queen is the most important piece. Everyone else is a pawn, and is expendable.

And let me say, the way the fandom portrays Kevin doesn’t help. They water down his character so much. He’s a poor little meow meow that never did anything wrong in his life and everyone would give their life for him and Jean will 100% cheat on Jeremy to be with him and he is the best person to ever exist and the whole universe must bow down to him and Thea better stay away that Raven bitch 🔪

When Nora said that any relationship Kevin is in will have to account for his narcissism. When she’s made very clear that Kevin is a coward and a hypocrite and a traitorous bastard and a bitch that thinks his left pinky is worth more than all the Foxes combined and that will sacrifice anyone to stay safe.

Fandom took all the traits that make Kevin Day Kevin Day and watered them down, made them disappear, created a new, third version of him that doesn’t exist in any book of either trilogy.

Meanwhile Nora took those same traits and exasperated them in the New Trilogy, to the point that I don’t enjoy reading of and about Kevin anymore. I honestly want him gone from Jean’s life.

Jean can never heal if Kevin is around.

And it’s concerning that 90% of the fandom doesn’t care.

In my opinion KevJean shippers only care about Kevin.

😔

I want to reiterate that I don't think Kevin changed in this new trilogy. He's always the same Kevin. Nora is a consistent writer.

But the amount and type of information surrounding him has changed, and shown me a new side of Kevin that I do not like. This is Kevin Day with the sliders set to the max, and honestly? I've had enough of him. I don't want to see him again unless it's to properly apologize to Jean. And we all know that will never happen 🤷🏾‍♀️

Kevin and accountability are strangers.

I’m done, I promise. I hope this was a satisfactory answer, anon. Send me a little message or something if you’ve made it this far ❤

[thebottomfromhell]

wait: you the moment Muzan was asking that person if they looked sickly? before he killed them I mean what if, that happened again with someone else(reader, perhaps?) but they end up being blind (and he didn't know until reader subtly points it out)? like he asks and reader says 'I'm not sure what you're asking, but you sound pretty healthy.' all genuine smiles and all

I would change the scene a bit for it to make sense, but Muzan encountering blind reader is a lovely idea.

So, also I did this one before others I still owe cuz I'm literally sick, and I always become lazy when sick, and it was the one I needed to think the least. I should feel better by Monday, but I wanted to keep the promise of 2 post per week.

Muzan encounters GN Blind Reader in the scene of the alley

Warnings: Mentioned non-character human death, Implied life-threat to reader and Open ending.

You were born blind. Your mother more often than not said you cried a lot, both as a baby and as a toddler, scared, because you couldn't see anything. The second you didn't have someone touching you you feared you got lost or abandoned, so you cried. You stopped crying when you started to grow up, thankfully your parents were quite wealthy, so you never had problems with being sustained, even if with your current condition living a normal life, like getting a job and starting a family, is harder than normal.

You never let that bother you, though. Also, your other senses do help you around a lot. You can hear, smell and touch your way through most places, so as long as you have your loyal can, you are more than fine. This night, you can sense due the lack of sun rays in your skin, is a busy one. You don't even know what took you so long, since you were only buying some sweets in a shop you go a lot. Since the woman that makes the sweets knows about your condition, sometimes she sneaks some more samples, thinking you don't realize the rations are bigger than normal. Still, it's an endearing gesture.

But the crowd tonight is making it harder to go home, it's too loud and full tonight, so using the temperature of the walls you guide yourself to an alley, there the stones are colder since they didn't get the sun's heat during the day. Then... there is a scent of blood. You know how it smells, since you were little you were able to recognize your mother's periods to the smell in the kitchen when the cooks are cutting the meat. But in those times the smell was diluted, but now it's strong, pungent. Is someone bleeding out? Should you call for help?

No, if it's so bad, it's probably a murder in the alley, if you draw the attention to yourself you might be the next victim, so you make the best to calm yourself. You are blind, so as long as you pretend to be oblivious to what is going on, you might have a chance to flee. You have done this before, not with MURDER, but you have had your fair share of stories of finding people having sex in alleys, and pretending to not know.

"What are you doing standing there like a freak? Can't you see what is going on?" Says a voice, it's rather sweet and soft, clearly manly, you would dare to bet it's a healthy man from his twenties to his mid thirties. In any other situation, you might have even been smitten by the voice. But now.... "No sir, as you might have realized... I can't see. Did I interrupt on something?" You ask, trying your best to keep your nerves under control. You hear steps, shoes with platforms from the west? Is the murder someone wealthy? They are comming towards you. And you know it's not the victim. The victim would beg, run, shove you to scape... not walk calmly towards you.

You move your staff on the ground, making little hits from side to side, hoping it will make this person keep it's lenght as distance. He stops when you hear the edge hit his leg. You stop the movement. "Scaping the crowd, huh? Seems we are not so different from one another. I'm sorry for my tone earlier, I needed some time alone, the city can be upseting at times." Before he sounded as if he was containing his anger, but now... it's gentle, even nice. You can feel hands, not so big or thick, but very strong, in your shoulders, as he guides you to turn around back to the streets. "This alley is infested by pests, let me help you in the way out. Let's go sit somewehre else." You let him, because you are afraid of what he will do if you don't.

You do relax in the crowd for once, though, since is improbable he will do anything to you in front of other but... no one is reacting. Shouldn't he be covered in blood? Then again, he doesn't feel wet, even id the faint smell is still there. Also, he moves you gently, making sure you don't trip or bump into anyone or anything, constantly telling your the name of the streets you are going and describing them for you to know where you are, more or less. He is precise, you know exactly how to go home from here. Part of you wonders if you should tell the authorities, but... would they believe you?

"Here. Here we should be able to rest." You both sit on a bench, there is something off about this man, but you don't know what. "So, what is your name? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." You nerviously grip tight the bag where you have your sweets, not knowing how to react. "Y/N...." you answer, if only to be polite. "Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you live nearby? Have anyone who is supposed to pick you up?" You don't give the exact location, but you asnwer "I live near by. With your descriptions I should be able to get home from here by my own."

"Is it really? Then, I have other matters to answer to, so I will stop keeping you. We might see each other again." He says and... gone... you use you staff after some seconds of silence to check and he is really gone. Or farther than the staff's full lenght's reach. How? You didn't hear any steps or sense any movement. He is just gone. What? How?

You stay in the bench for a while, could it be that you have gone mad? Is this a dream? Was it part from your imagination? Was the man a ghost? You stay a while trapped in your thoughts before going home. Some days pass, weeks, more than a month, and you get to almost forget about the experience. It probably wasn't what you thought, and you will never se that man again, so why worry.

Then, one night your father tells you to go to the main room to meet his new business partner adopted son's. He is a lot younger than you, around half your age, but it seems it will be your job to entertain the child while your parents make business. The kid is very quiet while everyone else is here, it makes you wonder if he is even there. Then, you hear it again. "I told you we would meet again, Y/N." You freeze, it isn't coming from the child, is it? "How would you react if I told you I can give you sight?" You are blind under the situation, no pun intended... Just who the hell is this guy?

"My name is Kibutsuji Muzan, never repeat it."

[latenightdaydreams]

Pretty please, May I request König finding the reader shoved in a corner having an anxiety attack?

My anxiety has been really bad this month, and I feel like if I got a really big hug and just be held to someone's chest so I could hear their heartbeat, it'd do me wonders 🥲I'm lame I know🥲

You're not lame at all! I'm sorry to hear that your anxiety has gotten worse this last month. I hope things begin to turn around for you💖 I'm sending you all the virtual hugs💖

Comfort!König x Reader

Fluff💗

Master List

>cw: anxiety attack

.

.

After getting no response from you while on his lunch break, he decided to just rush home to make sure that you’re okay. Upon opening the front door, he’s greeted with loud wails from upstairs. Moving as fast as he can, he climbs the stairs, skipping a few with every step.

“Schatz?”

König calls out as he opens the bedroom door to see you laying on the cold wooden floor with your hands on your face. Your body trembles as your breathing shudders. König instantly drops to his knees, reaching out with one hand to stroke your back. He rips his sniper hood off of his head and tosses it down.

“Schatzi. I’m here.” König keeps his voice steady while his heart is breaking seeing you like this.

“No! Go back to work.”

Your voice trembles as you cry out, too ashamed to even look at König. You’re aware he has taken off time from work to be here, making the guilt of needing him constantly weigh heavier on you.

“Baby, bitte. Come to me.”

König knows you don’t really want to push him away, but at the moment, you feel like a burden. Having PTSD himself, he genuinely understands you. He knows how it feels when the entire world seems to crash down around him, so he’s always promised to be your safe space to ground yourself. In no way does he ever view you as a burden. Work used to be his whole world, but now he has you. You’re more important.

“No! Go away!”

You scream out between sobs. As the anxiety builds, you move your hands to your ears in an attempt to block him out. Your head shakes back and forth as you struggle to catch your breath.

He looks down at you with a deep sorrow in his eyes. “Come to me, bitte.”

König gently scopes your body into his arms, not waiting for you to deny him again, moving you so effortlessly against his body. He stands with you and walks to the bed, sitting you on his lap. The warmth of his body helps relax you, allowing your body to melt into him. One hand grasps the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face in König’s chest.

While he has you on his lap, he cradles you gently. He gently kisses the top of your head and rocks you back and forth. You zero in on the rhythmic sound of König’s heart beating against your ear. His deep breaths move your body up and down. Slowly, you mimic his breathing, your body no longer trembling.

As König notices you beginning to relax, he speaks in a quiet voice, telling you how much you mean to him in a broken mix of German and English. The rumbles in his chest as he speaks adding to the calming effect König naturally offers you. He’s the home you’ve always needed but never found; until now.

“Schatzi, Ich bin hier.” He whispers again to you.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out small and broken.

“Never be sorry, you did nothing wrong.”

König tilts your head to face him. His pale blue eyes relax as you gaze into them, a small smile on his thin lips. Your beautiful lips and eyes are puffy from all the crying you’ve done today. He reaches out with one hand and wipes snot from your nose, rubbing it off on his pants. That gets a giggle out of you, causing König to chuckle along with you.

“Was?”

“That’s gross.”

“Nein, you’re my Schatz. Boogers don’t bother me.” He says in a playful tone.

After some giggles, there is a moment of silence between you two. His eyes slowly tracing over every detail on your face. He leans in and kisses your forehead, nose, and then lips. The kiss lingers for a moment before he quickly places another.

As he pulls back, he lets out a pleased hum. One of your hands reaches up to brush back his messy blonde hair as he gazes down at you.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too.” You say quietly.

“Is there anything you need right now, Schatzi?”

“Just this. Please.”

“Anything for you.”