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sanguineterrain · 7 months

Note

how about Jason with the prompt "text me when you get home"? the one time they forget/fall asleep before sending the text and Jay loses hid mind. rushes over expecting them to be dead but they passed out on the couch as soon as they got home

really superbly SCRUMPTIOUS prompt Aud. I love protective jaybird 🥰‼️ thanks for sending something in 🫶

jason todd x gn!reader. worried protective snuggly jason. no warnings really, ya boy is just paranoid and madly in love with you 💓

request something! I rb all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

As soon as you get out of your last class of the day, your phone rings.

You answer it, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder as you fish in your bag for a couple of bills. You're already walking to the train station.

"Hi, snookie bear," you say into the phone, slightly delirious with hunger and sleep deprivation.

Jason snorts on the other end. "That's a new one. Hey, baby. Y'heading home?"

"Indeed I am."

"Need a ride?"

You wait and listen. Eventually, you hear the sounds of hitting and grunting in the background. You roll your eyes—only Jason would be in the middle of a fight and then ask if you need a ride home.

"No, I'm okay. It's not dark yet. Plus you sound busy."

"I'm never too busy for you," he says immediately. "And it's gonna get dark in an hour. Are you sure—"

"Yes, Jay," you say gently. "I'm sure. Don't worry about me. I'm going straight home."

You're already at the station. There's a good amount of people, students and workers alike. The university is in a relatively okay part of town, especially during the day. You're not worried. It's not like you traipse through Crime Alley on your downtime.

"Okay." Jason takes a deep breath. "Just—just be careful. Text me when you get home."

You note the hint of worry in his tone. Maybe this week has been particularly saturated with crime. Jason tends to get a little overbearing about your safety when he's had a tough week. You know he had go down to Blüdhaven and help his brother—with what specifically, you don't know.

Most of the time, you're sure you don't want to know.

"I always do," you say. The train pulls up to the station. "Ooh, train's here! I'll talk to you later. I'm thinking of ordering takeout. Too tired to cook."

"Okay, sweetheart. Be safe. Love you. Lock your door."

You roll your eyes fondly. "Yes, Jay. Love you too. Bye."

You hang up as you step onto the train. You pull your headphones out of your bag and shut your brain off during the ride. By the time you get off the train, you've lost hope that you'll be doing any work tonight. You're absolutely wiped out after three back-to-back classes.

It's still light when you get home. You lock the door after you get in, the habit ingrained into you, and dump your bag onto the couch.

Takeout is a no-go. You're hungry now and about thirty seconds away from passing out on the couch.

You change into your home clothes, eat a granola bar, and call it a day. You'll eat more later.

You turn off your phone to bar any annoying notifications and fall into bed, eyes closing immediately.

****

The sound of your deadbolt being teared off its chain wakes you up. You flinch and jump awake, trying to blink through sleep. Your mouth is dry from how hard you slept, and your eyesight is slightly blurry from the sudden flood of moisture.

Your bedroom door swings open, and suddenly you're pulled into warm, heavily muscled arms. You hug back on instinct; you'd know the feel of your boyfriend anywhere.

"Jay, h—"

"You didn't text," he says, voice shaking. "You said you would. I was—I thought you were—"

You tense, guilt knocking into you.

"Shit. Jason, I'm so sorry. I meant to, I was just so tired..."

Jason pulls back to look at you, hands still on your shoulders. His expression is stern.

"I'm gonna pick you up from now on. When are your late days?"

"Jay, no, GCU is across town. You can't possibly pick me up three days a week. That's too much! What about patrol?"

"Somebody else is out at this time," he says stonily. "Crime Alley can wait an hour while I get you home."

His eyes blaze green, a side effect of the Pit. You can tell he's putting every effort into keeping a lid on the worry and fear and anger over your silence.

"Jason." You cup his face. "Honey, I'm safe. I'm sorry I didn't text you. I'm sorry I worried you. But your adrenaline is spiked right now, Jay. Everything feels magnified. I don't need to be picked up. I was perfectly safe coming home. Okay?"

He shakes his head, holding your wrists. "Anything could've happened. I was so—fuck, baby, I was so scared. I-I checked the station footage and the traffic cams, and I didn't see you after you cut through the park, and I thought—I was sure you'd—"

Jason pulls your arms around his neck and buries his face into your shoulder. He supports you by the backs of your thighs, tugging you into his lap. Then he clings tight.

"Oh, Jay," you murmur, petting his curls. "I'm alright. This end of Gotham isn't so bad. And I know you'd have found me even if something had happened. But nothing did."

"Can't lose you," he chokes out.

"You won't lose me, honey," you say. "You keep me safe."

He trembles in your embrace. You kiss the shell of his ear and continue to pet his hair.

"Let me pick you up tomorrow, at least," he pleads. "We'll get dumplings at that place you like. You barely ate anything when you came home."

"Okay, Jay," you say, because you know he needs that reassurance. He won't relax without it. "That sounds good."

You keep stroking his hair. "Y'wanna order in now?"

"In a minute."

Jason lays you both down on the bed. He throws a leg over yours and pulls you into his chest. It's now that you see just how much tension is locked in his shoulders. He's exhausted.

"Jus' wanna hold you for a bit," he says, lips resting on your shoulder.

He's drowsy, the adrenaline finally ebbing. You close your eyes and snuggle into his arms.

"You can hold me for as long as you want," you say, threading your fingers with his. "I'm not going anywhere."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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greg-montgomery · 3 months

Note

Princess treatment while R is sick pls?? I need to be babied by him so bad

“Soup’s ready!” You heard your boyfriend’s voice from the kitchen, followed by the sound of his steps coming closer and closer to your shared bedroom.

“Honey, you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble, we could just order something.”

“Something?” he repeated, as if what you had just suggested was hysterical to him. “Baby, you’re sick, what you need to eat is some nutritious and warm soup.”

Watching him place the bowl of soup on your nightstand with such care, made you not want to fight him any further. Sitting back and soaking in all his care and attention sounded like a much better alternative anyway.

Carefully, Aaron took a seat on the edge of your bed and his hand found its way to yours. “You’re still warm,” he said, and then covered your forehead with his palm. Except for a wonderful boyfriend to you, he was also a wonderful dad to Jack. And that meant that his hand was more accurate at telling your temperature than an actual thermometer.

“I know,” you said. “And I feel dizzy.”

“You need to eat. And then sleep again.”

“I’m bored,” you whined, your voice heavier than usual because of your sore throat. “I’ve been in bed for two days now.”

“I know, baby,” he said, cupping your cheek and leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “We’ll lie down together, okay? Cuddling doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?”

Your pout quickly turned into a smile at Aaron’s suggestion. No, cuddling didn’t sound bad at all.

“Okay.”

“Now,” he said with a serious voice, taking the bowl in his hands, “time to tell me what an amazing cook I am.”

You giggled and opened your mouth, while he brought the spoon to your lips. Of course he wouldn’t let you eat it on your own. He always treated a simple cold like a life threatening situation.

The warm liquid eased the pain on your throat and you hummed in enjoyment. “It’s delicious, baby.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Soon the bowl was empty and your stomach was full.

Aaron helped you lie down again, and covered you with a blanket up to your chin, before joining you in bed. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close, so your head was resting on his chest.

He started tracing little patterns on your cheek with his thumb and it didn’t take much for you to start yawning.

“You’re gonna get sick too,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Aaron?”

“Hm?”

“I love you more than I could ever explain.”

“You’re delirious from the fever.”

“Stop,” you laughed and slapped his chest softly.

Aaron’s beautiful laugh hit your ears too, as he pulled you even closer to his body. “And I love you even more, sweetheart,” he said, and sealed his words with a kiss on the top of your head.

#aaron hotchner x reader #gn!reader x aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #ask #hotch 🪐

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stayinlimbo · 2 days

Text

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note: i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it?

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee.

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you.

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers.

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls.

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.”

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them.

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth.

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row?

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face.

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh.

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief.

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep.

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

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jamil-s-wifey · 9 months

Note

Hello :3 Can I get a long scenario with my dearest Jamil?

I really love him so much >///< so here is my scenario, I hope you can accept

Jamil got sick and has a fever. MC stayed beside him and nursed him for 3 days without blinking and finally he recovered. He started to remember her care during his illness after his fever dropped. And when he woke up, MC hugged him tightly. A bit long, huh? 😅 I would be happy with little NSFW, not gonna lie.

Well hello there, fellow Jamil enthusiast~ It has certainly been a hot minute, hasn't it? It is my utmost pleasure to present you with the *long-awaited* scenario at hand! A bit of NSFW, some heart-warming fluff and Jamil finally getting a GODDAMN break, coming right up! It's not full on NSFW, just a lil bit, as requested, I don't know why it turned out like that- still, I hope this is good! (Tbh, it fits the scenario)

P.S. This hit close to home, I used to be a very sickly child and I still catch all sorta sicknesses a lot easier than normal people. So, what he will experience here is all based on very PERSONAL and very SALTY experience. 🙃

"What am I gonna do with you? You can't keep pushing yourself so much!" You murmured, pressing a cold cloth to Jamil's forehead as he slept soundly.

.......

Jamil hated being sick. Pretty normal right? Everybody hates being sick.

But to Jamil, sickness meant pushing through and continuing with his chores, regardless of his wellbeing. Imagine cooking above a hot stove with a high temperature. Can't be pleasant, can it?

But even the hardest stones could crack under enough force - such is the way the world works. It was towards the end of the day, as Jamil was preparing Kalim's dinner, when he felt his body give out under him. All day he'd been going around with a fever, he felt as if his own body was rotting on the inside, screaming at him to stop and have a break. His eyes were watery and felt as though they were burning in his eye sockets.

He couldn't even reach a chair to sit, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor - too dizzy and too weak. Rarely did he ever get this sick, but this time it was bad. He moved to a more comfortable position and remained like that, trying to gather enough strength to get some medicine..... He most certainly didn't realise he'd fallen asleep, too tired to move, nor did he hear Kalim's worried voice when he found him on the floor in the kitchen.

And Kalim? Kalim was terrified! Quickly he called on his dorm members to move him to his room and immediately called you, crying on the phone, worried that Jamil might never wake up. (That's not how colds work, Kalim-) Worried about Jamil, you immediately rushed to the Scarabia dorm, medicine in hand.

_____________

And now here you are, in the present, taking extensive care of your near delirious not-quite-boyfriend-but-kinda-love-interest. He'd occasionally wake up and exchange barely audible pleasantries with you, drink his "extra healthy and full of good stuff" chicken soup (whatever that was supposed to entail) and then fall back into slumber. His fever has gone down drastically, but the utter exhaustion left in its wake has kept him bedridden. Apparently it was a seasonal fever, which just so happened to hit Jamil, who in turn chose to ignore it in the beginning.

You'd taken the liberty to remain situated in his room for about three days.

Day one was the worst - high fever, clattering teeth and a sleepless night to boot. You'd change his shirt every time he'd drench it in sweat whilst fighting off the fever. You'd switch up the cloth every time it lost its cooling effect, you'd remained by his side the entire time, least he needed something anything at all.

"Once you get better, I'm so gonna yell at you for not taking better care of yourself.... You're lucky I love you." You'd mumbled, barely audible in the quiet of the room as he slept.

Day two was better - he slept through most of it and you could in turn prepare some soup, as well as cover most of his chores, get a pass from the teachers AND even leave him some of your notes for when he recovers. (Look at you go! He'd better propose imo)

Now, on day three he was evidently much healthier. Finally he gave up trying to get out of bed, and instead lay resting, drinking his medicine, feeling utterly pampered by you.

_____________

"How long have you...been here?" You seemed pretty tired in his eyes. The moment you heard his voice you immediately threw yourself gently on him, gently crushing his bones in a hug.

"A while." You responded, face buried in his chest. In reality, you hadn't had a proper night of sleep in about 3 days. You DID sleep, Kalim even prepared a guest bedroom, but you chose to remain next to Jamil for most of the time. "Do you know how worried I was?"

"You didn't have to do all this, you know? You could've get sick too."

"I could've, but I haven't. For somebody with such a keen eye and monstrous deliberation, you really don't know how to take care of yourself properly." You quipped back, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

"As, so I'm being reprimanded now." His gaze softened. "Thank you....for taking care of me these last few days... I've forgotten what it's like to not have to worry or do anything... I feel like I've slept a lifetime... I don't know how I could possibly return the favour."

You can't stay mad at him. He knows it, you know it. Hell, even the Great Seven know it.

"Return it by recovering completely."

He chose not to continue the conversation. He knew arguing was pointless.

"You know, while I was sleeping, or trying to, I was mostly aware of what was happening around me." He began, pushing himself up, in a sitting position. "When you'd quietly hum to yourself, or cuss when you couldn't find something..."

"Ah- well, did you now? Sorry if you had a difficult time falling asleep because of me. " you felt your cheeks warm up a bit.

"No no, please. It's fine. You've taken such good care of me. I just... couldn't help but hear something, which perhaps I wasn't meant to."

He reached out, tangling his hand in your hair.

"Something about you loving me?"

...

Nope, all that heat in your cheeks? Gone. Now it was just coldness and dread.

He saw your frazzled state and chuckled. "I guess I'm really lucky, to have you to take *such* good care of me, huh."

He leaned in, but stopped just centimetres away.

"I shouldn't."

You heart dropped even lower, if that was even possible.

"I could get you sick.~" There was a lilt to his voice, but his eyes showed concern.

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" you leaned in, smashing your lips onto his. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you towards him.

Naturally, you moved to sit in his lap, his hands moving to your waist.

"Your feelings are returned, for the record." He mumbled in between heated kisses. The more heated the kisses became, the more his hands would wander until-

In the blink of an eye, he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him. Skillfully he unbuttoned the first few buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your neck and collarbones. "I think I have a way of returning the favour. You took such good care of me, I think it's my turn~"

His attention moved to your neck, leaving heated languid kisses and playful bites on your skin. His hand trailed down to spread your legs, moving between them. Every single touch of his was intoxicating. Pretty quickly your shirt was thrown on the floor, the supple flesh underneath - covered in hickeys.

"Are you not going to undress as well? Or should I do that for you?" you asked, breathless, yet teasing in manner. Well. As teasing as one could get, given how achingly turned on you were. "Like you didn't have more than enough time to appreciate the view, during these last few days." he teased right back, but his hands moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time." He practically purred, fingers gliding over your stomach, gently trailing lower and lower.

"Of course, you can tell me to stop anytime."

"I don't want you to."

"As you wish, my dear. Then I'll make sure to indulge, taking, tasting, touching every single part of you. "

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cowgurrrl · 2 months

Text

Sleeping on the Blacktop

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: guys we did it i wrote smut i actually like (ps this was edited but also not reread because I’ve been trying to write it for five hours so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t)

Summary: The Land of No Return [4.7k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, platonic expressions of love, the mortifying ordeal of being known, sexting, we finally get to know about reader's secret tattoos, smut, Joel the Menace makes his long awaited return with that dirty fucking mouth, mutual masturbation, phone sex (??(sure)), protected sex (no Miller babies for them) p in v stuff, June being indulgent with describing Joel Miller, anxiety, I think that's it??

Music floods the kitchen as you and Andie work on making the best "last supper but with women" possible. The lamps glow orange on the walls and create funny shadows when you dance together, pulling each other in and out to old jazzy tunes. You laugh when she throws a string of spaghetti at your fridge to test if it's ready a little too hard, and it splatters water everywhere. You, honestly, might be a little delirious. You're both in your pajamas, and you've been watching movies all day. You exchange what you remember from New Year's Eve and cringe at what the other fills in. You drink cheap wine from plastic cups and snack on chips as the food cooks.

It feels like high school again, with all the girlish giggling and inside jokes you trade back and forth, except this time, instead of her going back to her house ten minutes up the road, she's going back to her apartment half the world away. No matter how long you get with her, it's never enough. Thousands of miles and different schedules will do that. Keeping long-distance friendships as an adult is just as hard, if not harder, than making new ones.

When dinner is ready, you fix your plates and sit next to each other at your messy dining room table— the IKEA one she helped you build when Henry walked out with the first one— and eat. Paint stains the wood of the table, and half-finished works are scattered around the dining room, but you barely notice them as you talk. She tells you about the things waiting for her in Vienna: work, her cat, Oslo, and piano lessons. You don't have to pretend to be envious because you are. You have to go back to school and the Real World once you drop her off at the airport in the morning. You wish you could go with her.

"Alright, c'mon. Spill it. What's going on with you and Joel?" She asks in between bites of garlic bread. You laugh and shake your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Bullshit. Tommy told me he saw you guys."

"Speaking of Tommy," you pivot. "What's going on there? You two seemed pretty chummy." You raise your eyebrows at her, and a big smile takes over her face. She takes another bite of food to buy herself some time, but there's no way you're letting her off the hook, especially after all her teasing about Joel.

"Nothing. We were just… talking." She finally says, and you give her a look.

"Talking?"

"Yes. People talk. You should try it sometime."

"Was it talking like we are now or talking like Joel and I talked?" You hum, and she kicks her feet as she leans forward.

"So you and Joel did talk."

"Well, we probably would've if somebody didn't come barging in."

"Goddammit, I told him to wait," she groans. "Sorry, girl."

"Yeah, me too," you say, and she laughs. You bump her knee and give her a look. "Alright, your turn. What's going on with Tommy?"

"Nothing that could actually turn into anything."

"Aw, c'mon. Don't count yourself out so early."

"It's not counting myself out. It's being realistic. I live in Vienna. He lives here. I'm not ready to come back to the States, and he seems content, so there's nothing that can happen," she shrugs. "It was a fling. A very nice fling, but a fling nevertheless." She seems a little too sad for it to have been just a fling. They exchanged numbers, and you've caught her texting him several times. She said she did kiss him on New Year's Eve (before she threw up), but they didn't go any further besides flirting the next morning. You watched them test each other at breakfast, and he seemed just as interested in her as she was in him. They'd be cute together. She sighs and pushes her pasta around in her bowl like a dejected character from a period piece.

"Tommy is very handsome." You comment, and she grabs your arm, animating all of a sudden.

"Dude, I've been dying to talk about it. What the fuck are they putting in the water here? It's insane."

"It's annoying, right?"

"So annoying." She agrees. You laugh about it together and, finally, give her the details she's been waiting so patiently for. When you finish your story, her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide. "Oh, my God. You have to get him back."

"I know, I know! He's driving me up a fucking wall." You say, taking a bite of food. It will get cold if you don't stop talking, but you also don't care.

"You could surprise him with some lingerie or something." She suggests, and you groan.

"God, I don't even remember the last time I bought lingerie."

"All the more reason to buy some."

"I don't know. I feel like I could just show up naked, and he'd be happy with that."

"He sounds like a keeper then."

"Yeah, I don't know," you shrug. "I like him a lot. I just… don't know if it's sustainable."

"Why?" She asks. You almost want to gesture around your messy apartment and half-put together life as if it will answer her question.

"I mean, he's a good guy, and we're having fun, but for how long? His kid's gonna be in at least one of my classes until she graduates. Not to mention, he has another daughter who is in medical school. We both work full-time. And then there's the whole having to keep it a secret thing. It could get really old really fast." You sigh.

"What if it doesn't?"

"What?"

"What if it doesn't get old? What if it ends up working out?" She asks. You take a deep breath. "You didn't even think about that possibility. Did you?"

"I just don't wanna get hurt."

"That's a very real possibility. Things could go wrong. He could break your heart. You could lose your job. Society as we know it could come crashing down, and you know what? The sun's still gonna come up the next day. The birds will still sing, and I will still be here," she says, putting her hand over yours. You purse your lips as you process her words. "You deserve nice things, kid. Don't count yourself out so early." She echoes your earlier sentiment, and you smile.

She's right. Of course, she's right. You don't let yourself think good things could happen because you're so focused on all the bad. She's known you for so long she can read your thoughts and know your habits before you can. What a horrifying and beautiful thing it is to be known inside and out like that.

"Maybe you should've been a writer instead of a musician," you say, and she laughs. You squeeze her hand and sigh as you look at her. "I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'm really gonna miss you, too."

"I wish you could stay."

"I know," she says. "But you need an excuse to come to Vienna, and I need an excuse to come to Austin, and if I stay, we lose that."

"I guess that's true."

"Besides, if I stop making trans-Atlantic calls, I think my phone company would be concerned." She points out, making you laugh. You know she's telling you what she's told herself this whole time. She loves Vienna, but you know she gets homesick. You know she's trying really hard to convince herself to get back on that plane. You don't push her about staying again. You just indulge in her presence.

"I love you." You say softly, and she smiles.

"I love you, too." She says.

It means so much more than just "I love you." It means, "I love you, and I want us both to eat well." It means, "I love you, and I can't imagine doing this life without you." It means, "I love you, and I know you have to go." Never any buts. Always ands, because love like this knows no bounds. Not borders, not time zones, not lifestyles.

You finish the dinner you made and clean the kitchen side by side before climbing into bed and staying up as late as possible to try and get Andie back on Vienna time. In the morning, you drag yourselves out of bed and sing in the car on the way to get coffee, and when the time comes for you to get her suitcase out of your backseat and watch her disappear behind glass doors, you hug her tight and tell her you love her again. She repeats the sentiment with another squeeze and deep breath that tells you how close to tears she is. Then, she turns around and doesn't look back to prove she's strong enough to leave. She doesn't need to prove anything to you. You always knew she was strong enough to do this.

The car ride back is emotional and lonely and tinged with the bass line of Ribs by Lorde, but your phone buzzes as you pull back into your apartment complex with tears staining your cheeks.

Thanks for letting us meet Andie. She's a really sweet person. I'm sorry she has to leave today.

You don't remember telling him what day she was leaving, but she might've told Tommy, and Tommy told Joel. You smile and text him back.

Thanks for taking care of us. She only had good things to say about you and Tommy. We'll have to all hang out again the next time she's home.

And then.

Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it.

Of course. I'm always a wreck when I have to drop Sarah off at the airport. I'm around if you wanna talk. Ellie's hanging out with some friends, and Tommy's on-site today.

You stare at the messages and debate your options. He basically just told you he's home alone and has nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yes, he is probably being sweet and really offering to talk if you're feeling lonely, but you also know how talking usually goes for you two. You smirk as you type out a message.

Just talk?

It seems like he can't type fast enough.

What else would you wanna do?

I think you made some promises you need to follow through on, Miller.

I guess I did.

Come over and I can do just that.

Actually, I have some work to get done :( maybe next time?

You lock your phone and bound up to your apartment, conscious of the sudden lengthening of time between messages. It's fun to imagine him trying to come up with a response that respects your boundaries but also lets you know how needy he is. He may have started this little game, but you're gonna be the one to perfect it. Thus begins the days upon days of not sexting, but not not sexting.

At first, it's just messages about how you miss him and wish he was around. He tries to find an excuse to come over, but you effectively cockblock him at every turn. Your response times get a little slower the more worked up he gets, so he has to figure it out on his own. You never would've thought Joel Miller, a man with gray in his beard and wrinkles lining his face, could be such a fast texter, but you figure there's nothing more desperate than a horny man.

Messages quickly escalate to pictures. They start off innocent enough: a picture of the painting you're working on, but your bare legs give away the fact that you're not wearing pants, a picture of him stepping out of a hot shower, his bare chest slightly red and glistening from the water, a picture of you wearing the burnt orange shirt he sent you home in New Year's Day with no bra on underneath. Then, you get a little bolder. After a quick trip to the mall, you pose in front of the mirror in a short delicate white night down with pretty lace details on the top, the hem barely hitting the tops of your thighs and showing off the large tattoos hiding there. You look hot, and imagining Joel's reaction to you makes you flush and rub your thighs together to get some relief.

It's true that Joel would've been happy if you showed up to his house wearing (or not wearing) anything, but when the photo pings to his phone, he's never been more grateful for Victoria's Secret in his life. His breath hitches in his throat, and he quickly tucks his phone into his chest like someone is gonna come up behind him and see what he's looking at. He's barely glanced at the photo and he's already straining in his jeans.

Goddamn, he texts back. You're so fucking pretty, baby.

You like it?

It's a dumb question, but you really don't care.

It's perfect.

What do you like about it?

Besides the fact that you're the one wearing it? I like that it makes you look like more of an angel than you already are, and I like that I can finally see those tattoos you've been hiding from me.

Bingo, you think to yourself. He was able to catch glimpses of the large pieces hiding on your back and shoulders at the art gallery, and when he picked up on New Year's Eve, you caught him staring at them each time. You thought he was following the inky lines up your body, but you couldn't be sure. Now, he's giving himself away, and you're practically buzzing with excitement.

You turn around in the mirror and arch your back, perfectly showing off your ass and the intricate tattoo lining your spine, and snap a picture. It's one of the largest ones you have, and it's also the easiest to hide. Besides, you definitely didn't get it for your own enjoyment. You live for moments like this. You send him the picture and smile as you type.

Like this one?

Your phone rings not even two minutes after he reads the message. You giggle when he groans into the receiver instead of greeting you.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby." He says, his voice so deep you can practically feel it rumble against your ear.

"I told you I'd get you back." You say it like it's obvious, but he just hums. There's shuffling on his end, and all you can do is wait for him to say something else.

"What else have you been hidin' underneath all those little dresses, hm?" He asks. "Tattoos. The most fuckin' perfect tits I've ever seen. Anythin' else I should know bout? 'S your pussy as pretty as the rest of ya?" You didn't mean for him to hear you gasp, but he seemed pleased that he could pull such a sound from you without even being in the same room. Just like that, any doubt or reservation you had left flies out the window. You finally cave and slip your hand down your panties to glide your fingers through your folds. "Am I makin' you wet, sweetheart?"

"Fuck," you mumble. It's absurd how turned on you are by this whole thing. Your fingers slowly circle your clit, and your head gets so fuzzy you almost forget to respond to him. "Yes, Joel."

"Are you playin' with yourself?" He asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Poor thing. I wish I could be there to help ya. I'd have you spread open for me so I can touch you however I want. Figure out what you like and what makes you cry for me." You put him on speaker and throw your phone down so you can focus on gliding through your wetness, your middle finger pushing into you slowly.

"What... what would you do?" You ask, breathless.

"I'd start by usin' my fingers just to feel you out, and I bet you'd feel so fuckin' good. I'd play with your clit until you're beggin' me to put a finger inside you, and I'd slip two in slowly while kissin' your inner thighs and watchin' you squeeze my fingers," you moan as you listen to his raspy voice and fuck yourself to his words. You try to imagine what his fingers would feel like inside of you. How different compared to yours, how much better they'd feel. Goddammit. "Then, I'd use my mouth on you while my fingers move in and out. I'd lick you all over and feel you soakin' me when I suck on your clit." He says, and you return to rubbing said bundle of nerves, faster this time, as you become acutely aware of his labored breathing over the phone.

Is he touching himself? The idea of him holding the phone with one hand and fisting his cock with the other sends a wave of heat down your spine, and you keen into your own hand. A shaky breath and muttered curse leave his lips, and then you know for sure what he's doing. Your head spins, and you'd be embarrassed by how close you are just from his voice if you weren't entirely focused on the pleasure clouding your brain.

"Fuck, Joel-"

"I know, baby, I know," he coos sympathetically. Another lewd moan leaves you as you get closer and closer to the edge, stars threatening the corners of your vision. "Are you gonna come for me like this?" He asks, and you hum in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to form words. "Come on. Let me hear you. I wanna hear what you sound like when you fall apart." His voice is coming faster and breathier, a light growl at the end of his words. How are you to deny him that?

The speed of your fingers on your clit increases, but it's his own broken whimpers that finally do it. Your back arches as the waves wash over you, and noises you didn't even know you could make escape your lips. You can vaguely hear a broken sigh accentuated by a particularly hot whine from Joel's end. Henry was never as vocal or talkative as Joel is. None of your past partners have been. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you have a quick passing thought that he might ruin dating for you. You might never want to see anyone else who doesn't treat you like this. You might be fucked.

"Joel," you say when you have control over your thoughts again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck over here now."

Joel's house is on the other side of Austin. With traffic, getting to your apartment can take anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on how fast you're willing to go and how many red lights you can pass under. Joel gets there in fifteen. You're still in the flouncy dress you bought specifically to torture him, but by the time you open the door for him, you're much less interested in making his life any more miserable than you already have over the past week.

He doesn't hesitate to charge into your apartment, grab your face, and kiss you like his life depends on it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open to him, clinging to him as his hands move from your face to the backs of your thighs to pick you up. You squeal in surprise and lock your legs around his waist to bring him closer and keep yourself from falling. Even though he obviously came over the phone at the same time you did, he's hard again and pressing against your bare pussy. He hisses when you grind against him, and his jaw clenches as he pulls away like he's in pain.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, wide eyes searching the hallway behind you.

"First door on the left." You say as you duck your head to kiss his neck. He sighs and indulges in the feeling of your tongue against his skin before he finally finds his feet and stumbles into your bedroom. You're halfway through marking him before he lays you down and immediately rucks his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and making you whine.

"You okay?" He asks, stopping all movement to scan over your face for any signs of discomfort. You nod and reach for the buttons of his jeans.

"Yes. Just need you." You say.

"Are you sure?"

"Joel, I just came from the sound of your voice. Yes, I'm fucking sure." You say, a little frenzied as you pull at the hem of his shirt. He laughs as he pulls it over his head and quickly unzips his jeans.

"Feisty."

"Can you blame me?" You ask, and he shakes his head. He tugs his jeans and his briefs down at the same time and unveils all of him to you in one go. He's beautiful. You knew he would be, but seeing the graying chest hairs and the pretty happy trail leading down to his hard cock in between his strong, tan thighs is an entirely different thing. You reach for him, desperate to feel the weight of him in your hands, but he stops you by slipping the tiny straps of your night gown down your arms.

He carefully pulls the fabric down your body until it's pooled next to his clothes on the floor. His eyes fall to the black lines wrapping around your shoulders, and he draws his eyes to your collarbones and sternum, his breathing stuttering at the sight of you laid out under him.

"So much prettier than I imagined." He murmurs as he ducks his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. You smile and run your hands through his curls as he mouths at your chest, leaving red marks in his wake and making you press him closer.

"How many times have you thought about this?" You ask. Has he always wanted you in the way you've wanted him? You're almost positive he has. There's no other way to explain the reverence with which he's looking at you. He's so wrapped up in you it's almost suffocating. Every time you glance at his face, he's staring at you with soft eyes and blown pupils.

"Lost count." There it is. The confirmation. You grab at his ribs to bring him closer, pulling him over you to kiss him slow and deep. Despite the heat of him against you and the ache between your thighs, you both take the time to savor it. That is until his overthinking takes over. "I didn't bring a condom. Fuck, I was in a rush. I didn't think." He says quickly, like he's waiting for you to back out or push him away. You bring your thumb up to the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and smooth it away, kissing his jaw.

"You think I would get you all worked up to not be prepared? C'mon, baby," you turn the nickname around on him, and he leans into your hand like a cat. "Top drawer." You say. He scrambles to your bedside table and grabs the first one he can find as you move onto all fours while he's distracted. You listen for the foil ripping and the subtle sound of the latex fitting over him. You can't stop the smirk from forming when he looks up and sees the sight in front of him.

"Fuckin' Hell," he mutters. Your back is arched perfectly, your hair gathered over your shoulder, and the tattoo you got done so many years ago is on display for him. "You are so goddamn perfect." He says as he presses his chest into your back and kisses your shoulder. He plants a few more kisses across your neck and back, making you wait longer than you already have, and just when you think you're going crazy, he slowly pushes into you and punches all the air from your lungs.

He's big. Bigger than anyone you've been with before, and he seems to know that. He rolls his hips, and you moan, gripping at the sheets under you for stability as you adjust. His breathing is ragged behind you, and he groans when you involuntarily clench around him. "You okay?" He asks, his voice straining. His patience and self-control should be fucking studied.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You assure him, and he nods. He starts to move slowly at first, but when you start whining and shaking under him, he snaps. You're both impatient. Months of following the rules and caring about what other people could think or say tumble out of your heads as he sets a rough pace. You've been dreaming about this and pushing it away since he walked into your classroom that day, and now that it's happening, you can't hide how desperate you are for him. You cry his name as he fucks into you deeply, no part of your bodies not touching, but it's still not close enough.

"You're so fuckin' good for me, baby. Jesus fuck," he moans into your ear, his uneven breaths echoing into your skull. "You feel so good."

He sits back and brings you with him, changing the angle and forcing him deeper inside of you as his hand snakes around your waist and dips to play with your clit. You curse loudly and dig your nails into his forearm as bright pleasure courses through your veins. "'M gonna come if you keep doing that," you warn, your voice high and strained as he adds a little more pressure.

"C'mon, honey, come on my cock for me. Please, I want it." It could be the slight whine in his voice or the fact that he's begging you for it, or the fact that the tight circles he's rubbing into your clit are making you see stars, but you come hard. You rely on him to hold you upright as he fucks you through your high, the slick between your thighs growing as his own orgasm washes over him, and he moans directly in your ear, an unexpected but not unpleasant gift. You think you could get off again just to the sounds he makes when he's coming.

You stay like that for a second, wrapped up in each other and breathing hard with him still inside you, before he finally finds the courage to slip out of you with only a tiny pained moan. He carefully guides you onto your back, your bones jelly, and kisses your cheek before he pads off to the bathroom to throw away the used condom.

It's quiet again in the apartment, but it's not lonely anymore. He makes himself at home in your space, asking if he can get water and snacks from your kitchen and walking around naked as the day he was born. "I wanna make sure you've got enough energy for round two." He says, making you laugh.

"Are you finally gonna make good on your promise to take your time with me?"

"Fuck yeah." He says, coming back to kiss your lips one more time before walking to the kitchen. It's like if he goes a few minutes without tasting you, he can't function, or at least, that's what he makes it seem like. You're more than receptive to the attention and can only watch as he walks around. Your trust in your legs is not strong enough to get up just yet.

In the domestic silence, it would be easy for your mind to run rampant with rogue thoughts and anxieties, but when Joel returns to the bedroom with snacks, bottles of water, and those stupidly sweet eyes, they get pushed to the back burner. He gets under the covers and pulls you into him, his warm body grounding you to this moment and not letting your thoughts stray. He presses kisses to your hair and your face every so often as you talk about everything and nothing.

Somehow, it feels natural, like you've been doing this the whole time or like everything was leading up to this. Maybe it was. Still, you'll need to talk about this. You know you will.

Just... not yet.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01

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nevertheless-moving · 1 month

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Continued from this au, where Kaladin gets strung up for a highstorm instead of thrown in prison during Words of Radiance, inspired by @gnecrognomicon

"The King ordered-"

Adolin rolled his eyes. "I am the King's cousin, you seriously believe I would go against his word and cut this man free? In front of a crowd of witnesses?" His tone somehow grew even haughtier the longer he talked.

"Now step back, I said l will speak with him alone."

The guards reluctantly moved away, and the prince stepped close enough that Kaladin could hear his low whisper.

"Say the word and I'll cut you free."

Kaladin blinked, looking at Adolin. He saw only open sincerity.

"...You're serious," Kaladin said.

"Sureblood is a minute's gallop away. I know you're not comfortable on horses, but a Rhysadium is different, he would never throw someone against my wishes. His saddlebags are already packed with a month's supply of food, not to mention enough bromes to hire passage on any ship in any port."

"Ship?" Kaladin asked, bewildered, but the princeling just kept going.

"We can make it to a stable in the outercamps before the stormwall hits. The moment the riddens start, we'll be gone - most won't be able to get their mounts out as early as us."

"Us?"

"Of course, they won't dare to shoot if I'm in the saddle, and anyway Sureblood wouldn't ride without me. I'll return once I see you safe to a port, there will be a punishment but -"

"Brightlord-" Kaladin said quietly. He was sure his expression was doing something strange. Hopefully the guards wouldn't read too much into it.

"Oh! A copy of your writ of freedom is also in the saddlebags - and your Horneater cook packed the meals! And when I say I packed enough bromes to hire a ship, I meant emeralds. You could buy a ship. You'd never have to work a day in your life, if you didn't want."

"Princeling, this is very -"

"Renarin will look after your men until I return, he won't let Elhokar or any of the Highprinces touch them, I swear. I wasn't able to get a spanreed, not without Aunt Navani noticing, but you should be able to hire one easily enough- I'll support your men in leaving the camps, it -"

"Adolin."

The prince finally stopped.

Kaladin took a deep breath, willing himself not to pull in stormlight to help with his throbbing headache. "I appreciate your willingness, I really do."

And he did, to his surprise. He was oddly touched by how much thought the brightlord had clearly put into the escape attempt. This wasn't a spur of the moment idea. Not to mention, there would no gain in it for Adolin, and quite a lot of risk.

"We can do it," Adolin said desperately. "Ten heartbeats and you'll be free. I can even get the soulcast manacle off completely, once we stop and rest, weaken it with -"

Kaladin laughed, the sound shocking Adolin into quiet again, the sound shocking even himself.

"I'll be alright, princeling." He smiled slightly, despite himself. "But thank you. Sorry to waste all your planning."

Adolin narrowed his eyes. "You swear it? This isn't a dramatic suicide attempt, after your earlier, equally dramatic ones failed?"

"I already decided against that, ages ago."

For some reason, the prince didn't seem comforted. The lines around his eyes tightened further.

"Your vow," he insisted.

Kaladin hesitated a moment, and he could see Adolin's right hand twitching to the side.

"I'm not going to promise I won't die," he said, exasperated. "You're a soldier, you know that there's no guarantees. I could get unlucky."

He lacked the delirious, instinctive confidence he felt last time he went into the storm. But he could feel the cool press of spheres, each from a different one of his men, sewn to the inside of his shirt by Hobber. So much more than last highstorm.

It had been difficult to breathe, in the worst of the tumult, but he also had a much better grasp on his powers this time, thanks to training with Sigzil, Rock, and Lopen. He should be able to draw in more than enough.

"I have...better reason then most to believe I'll survive this. I'll be alright. I'm not running."

Syl stood next to Adolin's shoulder. She had listened to the whole speech with thinly veiled wonder. Even though he knew she would be devastated if he broke his oath to flee, she had gasped and looked pleadingly at the mention of a ship. Kaladin smiled at her.

The prince glanced suspiciously at the air next to him, then started visibly.

Syl, in girlish form, giggled, sticking out her tongue, then turned into a ribbon of light, moving straight at the prince, causing him to blink as his yellow and black hair was shifted softly in the breeze.

She made a ring around Kaladins head, then zipped up, joining her cousins playing in the eddies above, the winds just beginning to pick up, sky growing dark.

It wouldn't be long now.

Adolin watched her go with a curious expression, then cocked his head at Kaladin.

"Stormblessed, huh?"

Kaladin just shrugged in reply. Well, he tried to anyway. The chains didn't have much give.

"Adolin, I gave my word that I'd see this through."

Adolin finally slumped, stepping back.

"Your men didn't think you'd run either. This still isn't right even if you do have... something on your side."

Kaladin didn't try and shrug again.

#stormlight archive #words of radiance #stormlight fanfic #adolin kholin #stormlight au #nevertheless cosmere #stone soup #stormlight au no 20

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sorencd · 6 months

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a scenario with neil where another character (maybe knox?) is flirting with you or maybe tells the poets that he wants to ask you out and neil gets jealous would be so amazing if you’re willing to write it!

im so sorry if this comes off as messy or smth i just woke up from this surreal, felt-like-a-thousand-years nap and i am so disoriented rn but i need to write this fic 😝😝also the entire time i read this with alex's voice in mind because i finished watching a clockwork orange this morning and i couldn’t get his british narrative voice out of my head. that's all, i hope u enjoy this, my brothers.

"alright, take a knee lads. i've got news."

knox proclaimed as he stood up, his voice gently resounding along the dimly light cave. the hood he wore accentuated the somewhat ominous, shakesperean over-dramatic tone he spoke in. the other poets and you diverted their attention from the snack-filled coat on the ground to him, curiously anticipating what their fellow poet was about to say.

“i’ve been thinking, won’t it be a brilliant idea to ask out the lovely (y/n)?”

his leather covered feet clicked against the damp ground, his face glimmering with smugness as he looked at you. half-expecting you and the poets to agree to his question. you rolled your eyes, disregarding his usual foolish antics and resumed your secluded talk with todd about cooking.

“i think that’s a no from (y/n), knox.”

charlie’s exclaimed while his loud cackle reverberated through the cave as soon as he saw the scrunched-up nose you had on your face. a clear sign you didn’t like what knox said.

“it never hurts to try, no?”

“it might, neil here looks like he’s got his knickers in a twist.”

everyone’s attention quickly focused on neil, who just as fast as the other poets’ heads turn removed the grouchy look on his face before anyone could see how much the situation was affecting him.

“what?”

“no need to grip your pants that tight, give it a break.” charlie teased, jabbing his elbow into neil’s side.

you didn’t want to stay any longer, you could feel the conversation lead to somewhere unpleasant and you weren’t gonna stay long enough to find out. besides, your eyes were giving up on you.

“i think i’ll be the first one to hit the hay.”

“this early?”

you dusted off any debris or dirt away from your pajamas and stood up from your spot.

“good night!”

a flurry of voices wished you good night and the sounds of you walking away echoed from within the cave, with how focused you are in staring into the abyss, you couldn’t hear the footsteps that followed yours.

“(y/n).”

you quickly whipped your head around to find neil, jogging slightly to catch up with you.

“neil?”

“the one and only.”

“are you making sure i get back to my room safe? aw you didn’t have to.”

he laughed, softly and gently, as the wind blew past the two of you.

“are you okay? you look like you were about to kill someone.”

neil rolled his eyes before sighing, pocketing both of his cold hands.

“i just did the like what knox said.”

“what, were you jealous?”

you teased, a small playful grin adorning your lips. you looked at him, expecting him to be sharing the same look as you.

“what if i said i was?”

he looked into your eyes, as if he was mesmerizing at each feature on your face, and as if he was awaiting your response.

“it’s getting late, neil. you’re probably a bit delirious. let’s hurry back.”

“i’m not.” he stopped dead in his tracks, leaving him a few steps behind before you stopped your own walking.

“i like you, i’ve liked you since the moment i’ve met you, (y/n).”

unlike the cold and chilly winds that kept gushing and embracing your body, your cheeks were another story. it felt like they were on fire, you could almost already hear neil calling you a tomato with how red they were.

he took a few steps forward, he took off the coat that hugged his shoulders and offered it towards you.

“would you like to go out with me?”

#neil perry x reader #neil perry #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society

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bellaxisworld · 22 days

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snippet time !!

thank you my loves @ecstarry @theicarusconstellation @ninety-two-bees @sommerregenjuniluft for tagging me <3

please accept this snippet of a twilight-inspired vampire jegulus one-shot i am cooking!!! it's meant to be fun and silly so don't take it too seriously.

James runs his hand up Regulus’ back to fist his hair, forcing his head back to look him in the eyes. “You’re a goddamn menace, sweetheart,” he whispers. “You love it,” Regulus replies, pressing pressing pressing, always some sort of game going on between them. James smirks, “I’d have to, sticking with you for what, six centuries now?” “Nearly seven.” Regulus blooms and blushes under James' gaze, so deliriously happy about seven full centuries being his. “Seven centuries. Damn. I’ve had my baby for seven whole centuries. You’re a miracle,” he whispers, using his grip on Regulus’ hair to bring their faces together, devouring Regulus in a kiss. He licks into his mouth and Regulus groans against him, sparks shooting across his skin, all the way down to his toes. His hands grip James’ shoulders hard enough to leave marks, red fingerprints smeared across skin. James completely commands the kiss, holding and moving Regulus every way he wants. Regulus is pliant against him but meets him for every push, matching every biting and bruising kiss with vigor.

the tags are going to be CONCERNING for this one !!!! regulus goes a bit crazy <3 this snippet is far more tame than the full fic. it's violent and unhinged, and there is mass murder. also, any snippets i share are subject to editing in the future.

no pressure tags to @sixlane @regscupid @theapocryphaofantares @lilacfiresoul @malchai and if anyone else wants to share a snippet, go ahead and tag me <3

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foreverinadais · 2 years

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after an argument: hc

(part 2: part 1 here!) this ended up taking way longer than i imagined woops

STEVEN:

the silent treatment he had been giving you eventually turns into reflection time.

the outcome? he feels like a complete dick.

so he when he sees your sitting on the sofa, he would come and sit next to you, his hands placed awkwardly on his knees

he would sneak peaks at you as if to get your attention because our love can’t directly make the first move after confrontation

finally, you would sigh and face him

to which he would pretend to be really interested in whatever was on the tv.

“Steven?”

then he would spill.

“I’m sorry I was such an arse and for the stupid argument. I was acting immature and you don’t deserve that and if there’s anyway I can make it up to you-”

You would interrupt him with a much calmer, “Steven.” and add, “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I was stupid to do anything to risk what we have.”

You could see the hidden fear in his eyes and shook your head.

“You won’t lose me. besides, people in relationships argue!” He isn’t convinced, muttering a string of apologies again.

“I’m not mad anymore, okay? It’s done.”

Steven is relieved. Like super relieved. he physically breathes a sigh of relief.

And he hesitantly reaches out to take your hand

to which you offer a smile and snuggle into his side.

“Wow.” Steven suddenly whispers

“Hmm?”

“I just love you. And am so lucky to have you, my love.”

to which you smile, because your equally lucky to have him- even when he is sassy.

MARC:

okay so i feel like he would want to avoid direct confrontation

but would still obviously want to apologise.

so say your asleep and he sneaks into the flat

has gotten a bunch of flowers or something cliché that he debated on getting but decided he needs something romantic to add to his apology.

he doesn’t want to wake you, plans to just leave the flowers in a vase and cook you breakfast.

but he stubs his toe on the side as he walks in and cusses loudly.

of course, you wake up instantly, slightly delirious from your sleep.

“Steven?”

he cringed at himself, inhaling deeply before muttering a small ‘nope’.

“Oh.”

Marc knows he’s fucked up by the sadness in your tone.

your sit up, noticing the flowers and he follows your gaze and sighs.

“Look, Y/N, I fucked up. And I’m sorry.”

he paces forward and places the flowers on the bedside table

It’s kinda funny to see big, scary Marc Spector be so shy

and you don’t really know what to do

cause your still pissed at him.

“You upset me, marc. I just care about you, is all. when you get hurt, it hurts me. And I’m powerless to it, you know?”

“I know, baby. I know. I got, defensive and it was wrong of me.”

he feels emotional and turns away from you for a moment.

“Just not really used to people caring about me. I just don’t want to scare you off, or risk losing you. It doesn’t give me an excuse, I know. I’m sorry.”

He sniffles, would desperately try to stop any tears.

But you saw him. Saw all his insecurity, all his pain, all his worry.

and you instantly would get up from the bed, wrap your arms round his waist.

“I know, darling. We can work on it, okay? But we don’t have to right now.”

to which you would gently urge him to turn around.

“C'mere.”

and he accepts your embrace, softly sniffles into your shoulder as you stroke his back.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

and he agrees.

and you both lie down, you guiding him to rest his head on your chest as you gently play with his hair

both slowly realising you can work on your problems together.

JAKE

“I’m worried, mate. She could be anywhere.”

“She isn’t answering our texts.”

“Fuck sake, Jake.”

after you left, of course all 3 of them would be freaking out.

Jake would eventually take control- or lose it.

going back to his bottle but slowly

truth was, he was more worried than anyone.

this was his fault

so if anything happened to you, that would be on him.

and he would never forgive himself

he was pacing the room, calling your phone yet again, practically screaming in frustration when he heard your voicemail.

that was until the door opened.

you half expected one of the others to be fronting, or for Jake not to be there at all.

but to your slight dismay, there he was, instantly turning to face you and throwing his phone on the sofa.

you would take off your jacket, not even bothering to face him.

then walk straight to the bathroom for a shower, avoiding contact at all.

“You need to sort this out, Jake. Just say sorry.”

he knew he had too. just didn’t know how to communicate it

and all you wanted, no, needed, was for him to communicate.

you come out the shower and to his dismay, your wearing one of your own night tops and not one of his

and you get a glass of water before going to bed.

but before you can, Jake clears his throat.

“Y/N.”

to which you would stop in your tracks, slightly turning to him so he knows he has some of your attention.

“Are you hurt?”

“What?”

“You were gone for so long, I thought you might’ve got-”

“Are you kidding? I was ‘gone for so long’ because you told me to leave, remember?”

okay, tensions were still high

and i have a feeling Jake is stubborn

Jake would stop talking for a moment as he watches you shake your head slightly

“I was angry.”

“well I’m still angry.”

and the atmosphere would be so tense.

one wrong word, and it could all snap.

“What do you want me to do?”

and you scoff.

“Honestly? I want you to be honest. Jake, do you want me?”

“What?”

“You hardly say it.”

“What?”

“You hardly say you love me! and maybe I’m selfish but you don’t act like you love me sometimes. I want, I want you to talk to me and be open to me and want me in the way I want you! Because I can’t keep doing this.”

Oh.

That- he feels his stomach turn in dread, feels his head fill with fire. But mostly, he feels the way his heart breaks slightly.

of course he loves you.

but it was fucking terrifying to admit

you mistake his silence for agreeance and you feel tears well in your eyes

because this is your biggest fear; that one of them could fall out of love with you.

“I’m going to bed.”

the sentence sends chills down his spine in the worst way

and he shakes out of his thoughts, rushing forward.

“No no no, wait. I’m sorry. Sometimes I can’t find the words for you, Y/N, but it’s not because I don’t want to or because I don’t care but it’s because for you, I feel so deeply. I can cope with pain, lord knows I can, but this... loving you means the possibility of losing you and I can’t live with that.”

none of them can

and you pause again, putting down the water and turning to him with watery eyes.

“It doesn’t make up for what happened. I mean it, Jake. We can’t keep doing this thing where we fight and then fuck, and then forget about it.”

“I won’t. I will try and make it up to you, Cariño, every single day. And I might not be able to open up like the others do, but I will try. I will try for you.”

and you finally nod slightly, tears falling freely now.

“okay.”

and he sighs in utter relief and it’s overwhelming what he feels for you

he walks over and kisses you fiercely and you pause for a moment before returning the gesture

but the dominance dies down, leaving a gentle, loving kiss, making your head dizzy

and finally, Jake says with as much certainty as you have ever heard, “Te quiero. I love you, mi amor.”

and whilst you know it’ll take a while, your willing to wait.

for them, you would wait an eternity

because they are your eternity.

cliché little ending to make up for the angst of p1 hehe. hope you enjoyed :)

#Moon Knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight headcanon #Steven Grant #marc spector x reader #jake lockely #marc spector #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #steven with a v #angst #fluff #ff #headcannons

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