#like she is the least of my concern. i could not care less if she dies.

[spaceclefairy]

Only You

You don't expect the Ghoul to hang around, but he comes creepin' back in around sundown every night. You're glad you remembered the Rad-Away.

Act I | Act II | Act III | Ao3 Compilation

You're stuck in Filly for the next few days while you sort out the raider issue with your agency. You assume “sorting it out” involves the agency terminating the raiders with characteristic violence and aplomb, but you don’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answer.

There’s not a lot of lodging in Filly. In fact, there’s not much of anything. Ramshackle trader stalls, a few real stores if you squint, a radroach-infested motel, and a bar that most of the town seemed to frequent once the hour struck late no matter the day. At least the bar has enough open rooms to let you rent one for a few nights.

You hadn't expected the Ghoul to stick around, but so far, he continues to show up. He disappears during the day, then returns long after dark and crawls into the small barroom bed with you. You don't ask him what he gets up to during the day (you don't want to know), but you assume he's taking care of smaller contracts while he's out.

You've been spending your days at the agency hub taking down telegrams for contracts and sending out bids. It's mind numbing work when you're used to dealing with bounty hunters all day, but you've got to do something while you wait for the agency to give you the okay to go back home. You need money, and you’ll probably go nuts if you don’t keep yourself busy.

At least you've got the chance to see some old acquaintances at the agency hub. A couple of former bounty hunters who'd come through your office were now agents at the hub. They're alright, as far as wastelanders go; you hang around with them when you take breaks.

Today’s smoke break has more or less turned into gossip time. You’re happy to listen in on any and all gossip (it’s part of your job, after all) - it’s less enjoyable when the questions turn to you.

One of them, a woman whose teeth were file-sharpened into fangs (creatively named Fang), lives above the bar down the hall from you. She's good natured, if quite terrifying. She leans against the crumbling concrete wall of the hub, taking a drag on a little paper cylinder that smells suspiciously like burning catnip. “I saw that ghoul you came into town with last night. Is he staying with you?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

You’re not inclined to expound upon her question, but she lives down the hall from you. She’s obviously seen the Ghoul creeping into your room at night (he’s not exactly quiet, either), hence the question.

The other, an individual with - conversely - no teeth to speak of (again, creatively named Gums - fuckin’ wastelanders), chimes in. “You're staying with a ghoul?”

“Yeah-”

Fang interrupts you. “And not just a ghoul. The Ghoul.”

“The Ghoul? As in…” Gums raises a sparse, flakey eyebrow. You nod, and they whistle. “Nice. How'd you bag that?”

“Longtime client,” you reply simply. You don’t know Gums as well as you do Fang, but they seem harmless enough. “He got caught in the gunfight when the raiders showed up at my office.”

You neglect to tell them he'd started the gunfight. The less they know, the better.

“Not bad. You could do worse,” Fang observes. “Does his dick look like the rest of him?”

You nod. “Yep.”

Gums grins. “Cool.”

Your break turns into playing hooky the rest of the day, mostly because you don’t want to field any more questions from anyone who’d seen you walking around with the Ghoul. You make yourself scarce for the rest of the day, choosing to wander around town. You haven't been to Filly in years, not since you were a kid. It hasn't changed much. There's still the same derelict bars, saloons, and stores. There's more than one bounty agency here, too, though you don't know which ones. You're only concerned with yours.

Sundown slides over the town by the time you head back over to the bar for the night. Everyone’s locked down and boarded up their places of business, the street vendors have all scattered. You know that Filly after sundown is not a great place to be, but you can hold your own if the need arises.

You're in the mood for a drink tonight, and frankly, there's nothing else to do in Filly after dark that won’t get you shot. When you step into the dingy bar, you make your way up to the bartender and grab a beer. It’s watery and gross-looking, but it smells like beer and you can’t be picky out here in the wasteland.

When you turn around to find somewhere to sit, you spot the Ghoul watching you from a back corner of the bar. You're surprised he’s back by sundown - he’d been rolling in late into the night, long after the moon had risen into the sky. You take your beer and skirt around the chairs and tables littering the bar. 

He cocks his head and watches you approach. He's got a half-full beer mug in one hand - evidence he's been back for a while. He doesn't give you a chance to grab another chair when you reach him. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you down into his lap. 

If you didn't know how much booze it takes to affect a ghoul, you'd assume your Ghoul was drunk, but he's not. He just doesn't seem to care that the few patrons of the bar have their eyes trained on the two of you. Of all the things you expect him to be, possessive is not one - or maybe he is possessive, and this is his warning to the other patrons. You don't care which, and you’re not inclined to give it further thought. Rather, you're distracted by his hand squeezing the top of your thigh.

The Ghoul takes a drink of his beer and rests the glass on your knee. “Any word on the raiders?”

“Other than, it's being handled, no,” you reply. You force your brain to focus away from his hand on your thigh. You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s all it takes for him to get you going. “My agency isn't exactly forthcoming about what goes on behind the scenes.”

“No, they're quiet about how dangerous they are, and they like to keep it that way,” he agrees. He pauses, and grins slightly. “Kind of like you. You're a hell of shot with that rifle.”

Compliments from him are few and far-between - forward compliments at least. He’s far more show than tell. You’re… flattered, actually, that he’s paid attention to you beyond just physically. You know he has, but it’s nice to hear it.

Again, you suspect you may actually like the Ghoul.

“Can't be a bounty agent if you haven't been a bounty hunter before,” you shrug. “I've had plenty of practice.”

He takes a drink of his beer, and says, so, so quietly, “Ditch the agency and come with me. Be a bounty hunter again.”

You raise an eyebrow. He's not serious, surely. 

“I like what I do now, Cooper,” you reply softly. “But my door's always open.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

The Ghoul returns to people-watching in silence, sipping on his beer and continuously making you more and more nervous with his hand on your thigh. He's taken to rubbing circles into your thigh with his thumb, and he keeps getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. He's not being even remotely inconspicuous, either. More than one person in the bar has caught on to what’s going on in the back corner, if the odd looks you’re getting tell you anything.

You don't try to make him stop (you don’t think you’re capable of asking him to stop), but you do lean back against his shoulder and press your lips to his ear. “You're gonna do this here?”

He looks you dead in the eye. “I'll fuck you right here in this chair with every single person watchin’.”

Yeah, no, he's serious on that one. You can see it in his eyes. Actually, you can feel his dick pressed against the back of your leg, too. 

You blink. “We should probably go upstairs now.”

He chugs the rest of his beer, then pats your leg, motioning for you to stand up. “Should have already gone upstairs.”

You don't disagree. In fact, you don't think you could have stood up any faster. 

The Ghoul looks you up and down with that grin on his face before following you up the stairs. You don't quite make it back to your room before he’s grabbing at you by the waist and pulling you close. He traps you against the wall, body pressing down on you, completely irreverent of anyone walking down the hallway behind you. You grab his face and kiss him; his raw skin is chapped, but soft and cool against yours. The brim of his hat knocks against the top of your head, but you don’t care. 

You scramble to find your door key in your back pocket and only just manage to get your hands on it. You can’t quite manage to get the key in the lock, so he takes a break from what he’s doing (grabbing your tits under your shirt) to take it from you and jam it into the door.

The Ghoul kicks the doors closed behind him with the heel of his boot. The force shakes dust from the walls and kicks dirt up from the floor. With a single-mindedness that takes your breath away, he backs you up to the tiny bed shoved up against the back wall and drops down to his knees.

He strips your pants and underwear down your legs, then prompts you to sit down with a hand on your stomach. As much as you like when he tries to have a little patience, you like it this way more - sloppy, breathless, a little desperate for you. A starving man eating his first meal in days. 

With a tug, he drags your hips over to the edge of the bed and sets to work with his tongue. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch and busy yourself picking open the buttons of your shirt with shaking fingers. You shrug out of your shirt, leaving yourself completely exposed. He hasn't even taken off his hat yet, but you take care of that for him and drop it onto your head.

The Ghoul looks up at you and pauses his ministrations, licking his lips in thought. 

You shrug. “The hat was in the way.”

He doesn't respond, choosing to set his mouth back to better purposes, but he keeps his eyes trained up on your face while he sticks his tongue in your cunt. He's sloppy about it, spreading your lips with his gloved thumbs so he can get better access to you. You buck up against his face, and he doesn't stop you - no, he buries his tongue deeper between your legs and lets you ride his face, all the while still looking up at you with those bright hazel eyes.

Finally, it hits you, and you grin like you've won the damn lottery. “You like me wearing your hat, Cooper?”

He nips your inner thigh with his teeth, making you jump, and sets back to sucking your clit. You take that as a warning not to tease him, but it's so much more fun to know his mouth is too full of you to tease you back.

You don't stop teasing him, knowing full well it's just going to rile him up. “Why don't you come up here so I can ride your face properly, cowboy? I've got the hat to fit the part.”

The Ghoul has had enough of the gloves obstructing his ability to feel your skin. He stops long enough to strip them off, stick a finger in his mouth to coat it with his spit, and press his finger deep into your entrance. You choke on the fullness, the sensation rough but not unwelcome.

“Well, don't get quiet on me now,” he says. 

You stutter, but he can absolutely understand you when you say, “I like riding your face when you're on your knees, too.”

He spreads you apart and licks you, slow and deep, chasing the path of his fingers. He watches you while he does it, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that right?”

You nod. “Sure is.”

You lean over where you sit, where he's still on his knees on the floor, and unbutton his shirt. You expect him to tell you to stop - there's more light in the room this time, after all - but he doesn't. He shrugs his duster and shirt down over his shoulders and lets them hit the floor. This time, you can really see what he looks like. Raw, pitted skin, mostly red but pink-white in places where old scars have healed over time and again, build slight but still muscular. He seems to be waiting for you to pull back, recoil away - stop in your tracks. You grab his face and kiss him, then pull him to his feet.

 You pull him closer by his belt before that comes off, too. Boots and pants next, dropped carelessly to the floor. You take a minute to look and touch, run your hands over exposed skin, and he sighs softly at your touch.

“Look at you, Cooper,” you say. “Aren’t you a sight?”

“You are fuckin’ strange,” the Ghoul comments, but it’s with affection. His version of affection, anyway.

“Yeah,” you shoot back with a grin, “but I don't hear you complaining.”

You take his cock in hand and run your tongue along the vein underneath, making him twitch. You swallow him down, fisting what doesn’t fit in your mouth, until he’s threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you off of him.

The Ghoul deems that to be the extent of what he can take from you. You’re on your back with him crawling over you before your brain registers that he’s moved. He smashes his lips down over yours while his hands creep up along your sides. He wastes no time reaching between your legs and running the head of his cock along your slit. Not for the first time, you marvel at how much you prefer the roughness over his attempts to be patient.

You’ve teased him long enough, you decide, so you wrap your legs around his waist and arch up against him. “Come on, Coop -”

He obliges and thrusts into you, planting one hand next to your head for leverage. The other hand catches your chin and holds you steady while he fucks you. You meet his eyes, and the way he watches you - like it’s a privilege to touch you - makes you ache.

You nudge him with your hip until he rolls on his back. You slide him back inside, hissing at the returning fullness, and grind down on him with your hands on his chest. He wraps his hands around your thighs, squeezing so hard you're sure you'll find new bruises come morning.

You like watching him from up here. The way his jaw clenches, when his head lolls back in response to whatever you're doing, the way his mouth parts in a semi-attempt to say your name or give you direction - it captivates you. You like when he’s speechless - when he can’t pull himself together long enough to tease you.

The Ghoul can feel your hips stutter when you move, grinding down harder each time for any little extra bit of friction. His thumb finds you clit and presses circles into you relentlessly, letting you use the palm of his hand to find the friction you need.

“Go ahead,” he says, breathless, “come on my cock, babydoll.”

You do, with a hand on his chest and the other hand on his wrist, holding him close and steady. It rolls down your back, down your thighs, all the way out to your fingertips, like the wasteland air burning underneath your skin. Your nails bite into his wrist, and that makes him smile - a real grin, not the smug skeleton grin you’re used to getting from him. You return it.

When the Ghoul comes, he wraps an arm around your back to keep you steady and holds you flush against his chest. You sigh at the touch of his skin against yours, his chest pressed against yours, your nipples prickling against him. You take it as he comes, grinding down on him when he fills you up. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, teeth grazing his raw skin. 

The usual question of radaway? doesn't come this time. You’re not concerned, and neither is he; the dose you took that morning would still be enough.

The Ghoul scoops you up into his side when he’s come back to his senses and rolls you onto your back. You wrap your arms around him and trail a finger down the back of his neck, just barely scratching at his skin with your nails. He burrows his face into your soft chest (the lack of nose is helpful in this regard) and closes his eyes.

After a few minutes, you say, “You know, I’ve liked you since the first time you walked into my office.”

The Ghoul glances up at you before closing his eyes again. “Can’t imagine why.”

“You were all business,” you reply. “I respect that.”

The Ghoul is quiet for a while, long enough you think he’s gone to sleep, but he answers. “Weird way to tell someone you like ‘em.”

You snort. “I’m trying to be nice, dickhead.”

You can feel him grinning against your skin. “Well, baby, that’s on you.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “I’ll kick your ass out of this bed.”

“Sure you will,” he replies. “Just remember that when you roll over and grab me like you did this morning.”

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x fem!reader #fallout the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x fem!reader #fallout amazon #fallout tv series

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

[rthko]

I recently saw a post with Fran Lebowitz saying, "a book isn't supposed to be a mirror; it's supposed to be a door," and it made me think about the state of "representation" discourse online. I thought back to an anon I once received from someone who claims to get "secondhand embarrassment" from "drag queens, leather daddies, and kinksters with pup hoods acting like they represent all gays." Many thought my response was too harsh, that I ought to show more sympathy to people who do not "relate" to nor feel "represented" by these modes of queer being. Blame it on online fandom, blame it on heteronormativity, but we are too concerned with "relatability." It is the sort of "relatability" advertising executives concern themselves with, or "relatability" of people who treat their online presence as a "brand." It is a notion I find alien to queer art and culture.

I have never done drag, nor do I consider myself a part of the leather community beyond befriending others who do and owning some gear. I do not "relate" to these expressions in any vulgar, literal sense, but they are still deeply resonant. And how many of these individuals truly "relate" to the images they peform? Drag artists and leatherfolk are purveyors of fantasy. In their daily lives, they might not be bikers, rockstars, pop divas, or mythical beasts, but they reinvent themselves through metaphors and performances. These theatrical performances are no more absurd than the quotidian performances expected by cis straight society. Larry Mitchell writes, “The faggots act out their fantasies without believing them to be real. The men act out their fantasies always proclaiming that they are real."

This could explain why literal attempts at relatability are often less resonant than campy extravogant fantasies. I once wrote a rant about how Taylor Swift is not a gay icon, and an anon smugly told me, "Taylor makes music for everyone and not just gays." Yes, I suppose she does make music for "everyone," in the same way that the Midwestern weather reporter voice is the universal accent of the English speaking world. But diva worship was never about "relating;" rather, it's about survival through the evocation of patron saints of strength and glamor. Most celebrity or mass media attempts at "relatability" are at best clueless or at worst insulting. I would much rather participate in a campy fantasy, which is in its own right more "real." Susan Sontag describes camp as the "farthest extension, in sensibility, of the metaphor of life as theater.”

I am not telling anyone to stop pushing for the recognition of diverse stories. This is crucial! But the recognition of queer stories should also come with an understanding of queer modes of resonance. When has John Waters ever produced something "relatable?" Who cares? His work resonates, in fact, more than a lot of "safe" gay media that should be all accounts be more "relatable." The "average" listener would not necessarily relate to SOPHIE. They may find her work otherwordly or downright unsettling. But she did not produce music for the "average" listener, at least not before the rest of the musical landscape dragged to catch up with her. Adam Zmith writes: "Inside SOPHIE’s words, performances and final act is the queer utopia of always grasping, always dreaming of a freer life." We are living the wildest dreams of our former, closeted selves, but we are still always grasping, never quite satiated. Queer art is not just autobiographical but aspirational. Let art be a door.

[lovelybrooke]

Platonic Yandere Angels x immortal reader

Very long awaited, I know. This takes place at the same time as my Overlords x reader headcanons (so during pt2). I'm very nervous about writing this, so please tell me how I did. Also, just like the Overlords, I'm only talking about the Angels we know about, not anyone that was on screen for like a second.

masterlist

---

Heaven knew something was up.

A few weeks ago, there was a sudden shift, something only Sera seemed to notice. It was small, but it made Sera stop in her tracks, almost like she was waiting for something. It made Emily nervous, seeing someone so strong become so confused over--something. Sera spent days trying to figure out what was up, she knew Hell had to be a part of it. There isn't anything else it could be, she thought.

She soon found you--a human child in hell. Your arrival in hell must've been the thing that she felt that day, it all makes sense now. However, her feeling of accomplishment soon became fear, a human child is, for some reason, in hell and is being taken care of some of the strongest demons. What worried her even more was the fact that you were alive. You were still human, at least as human as someone can be in hell, and something was holding you back, keeping your humanity within you. She was terrified for your safety, so when Charlie was invited to Heaven to figure out in souls in hell can be redeemed, she knew that your presence would be a topic of conversation.

Before that though, she tasked Adam with keeping an eye on you. She didn't want to tell Emily, she knew she would ask questions that couldn't be answered. She knew Emily would figure it out eventually, but that was a worry for another day. What's more concerning is Adam. He sees you as a prize to be won, not a person. He saw you as just another thing he could use against those demons. He noticed how taken they were with you, and instantly knew how great it would feel to rip you away from them. Lute was really the only one who supported her boss in this endeavor. She didn't really have any strong opinions on you, other than that you should be in Heaven, but that's mostly because that's what her boss wants.

The others down in Hell have no way of knowing about the Angel's knowledge about you until Charlies official Heaven visit. Charlie had no reason to think that Heaven knew about you, so when they bring you up, she's extremely confused. Emily is even more confused, and slightly upset that Sera would hide this from her. Out of everything she could hide from her, the existence of a human child is definitely one of them. She couldn't stay mad for long, because Sera was quick on informing Charlie that Hell is no place for a human, especially one so alive. Sera suggested that they bring you to Heaven, and you stay there until everything is sorted out and you're back where you belong.

Emily knew Sera felt something for you, something much deeper than Sera felt comfortable admitting. She was a Seraphim angel, older than the Earth itself, strong and powerful and wise, all brought to a head because of the existence of some human in hell. Emily couldn't deny that you were interesting, and even though she was upset that you were kept a secret from her, she was less upset with Sera and more upset that she didn't get to meet you until now. Well meet is a weird word, more so found out. You seemed nice, very sweet, too sweet to be in Hell. You deserved to be somewhere nice, and maybe once you were brought to Heaven, you two could become great friends. She knows that eventually you would have to go home, but she wanted you to smile more, you seemed so sad down there.

Adam reveled in the confused look on Charlies face. She really thought you, a human, were just going to stay in Hell forever? This was all hilarious, watching as the stupid little demon princess try to argue that Hell is your home and that you're not going anywhere. It was the first time he saw her actually frustrated, angry almost. It just made you more interesting to him. Adam's never cared much about Humans, but there must be something great about you to make you so important to these demons.

Sera knew you needed to come to Heaven, you were in grave danger with these demons, and in her heart she knew she was doing the right thing. As she and the rest of the court watch you down in hell, alone in your room of the hotel, she knew you needed her help. You were tired, shown through your exhausted behavior. You could barely keep your eyes open, and before she knew it, you were asleep. According to Adam, this is the first time you've slept in weeks, and Sera instantly knew she'd seen enough. You were neglected, a helpless child with a pit of vipers, and she would be the one to save you.

Charlie and her partner adamantly disagreed to sending you to Heaven. This, paired with the Sera's decision to refuse the reforming of demons made Charlie extremely upset and tired. She tried to do everything to prove to them that demons could do good, so why wasn't it enough. She just wanted to go home and see you, make sure you were okay.

Sera felt another shift again, and suddenly, you were gone. She watched as Charlie scrambled to find you, and she herself looked everywhere she could for even a trace of you, but there was nothing. You must have somehow gone back to Earth, she should be happy. She should be content knowing that your back where you belong, but for some reason, she disappointed. She wished to know who you were, what you were like. She wished to give you a better life than the ones those demons were providing. But now you were gone, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Maybe once you actually die, she'll get to meet you again. But until then she'll be waiting for you.

---

A/n: This is short I know but the angels are so hard to write for. Please help me...

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Five - Diamonds

♡♡♡

The next ball you attended felt like quite the intimate affair. Understandably so.

You attended with your mother, but as soon as the Bridgerton's arrived, you waited for the opportune moment to join them. Benedict and Colin seemed particularly pleased to see you already. You were becoming quite close friends with them.

The Duke approached Daphne and asked her to dance. Anthony was about to intervene, but Lady Danbury, who had approached alongside Simon, spoke up before he could. "I shall need someone else to seek me a glass of ratafia, then. Lord Bridgerton..." She holds up her arm, "Do me the honour?"

You hide your smile at her tactics. It was so clear she was trying to prevent him from interfering further.

Anthony gives in. "Of course, Lady Danbury."

They leave.

You watch as Daphne goes with Simon into the main ballroom. You watch them go. As you enter the ballroom yourself, you watch them join the others in a dance.

They look happy together. They are enjoying themselves.

Could it be the Duke does, in fact, feel something for Miss Bridgerton? It certainly looks that way. You can only imagine what Whistledown will say about this.

Benedict smiles as he watches from beside Anthony.

"They look wonderful together," you say softly.

Anthony clenches his jaw from beside you. As the current dance ends, Anthony takes Benedict by the shoulder and urges him forward. "Go dance with your sister."

You look at them as Benedict asks, "why?"

"Because I asked you to!"

Benedict looks less than pleased but goes anyway, groaning. You watch him approach Daphne.

With Simon now free, Anthony marches off to talk to him. You sigh as you realise you are now alone.

Benedict dances with Daphne only for a short while before she parts with him and enters the next room. The same room Anthony went into with Simon. You find yourself walking that way to see what was happening.

You stand in the door as Anthony hurries past. Violet reaches out for him, but he keeps on moving. You find Daphne looking at Simon. She approaches him to speak with him.

Benedict comes up beside you. "Will you dance with me? My dance with Daphne ended early."

You chuckle and take his hand. "As did her patience, I think. What was that about?"

"I have no idea." He takes you to the dance floor. You both start to dance.

"Your family is quite something."

"That's putting it politely."

"Is Lord Berbrooke a problem?" You ask.

"I'm not sure. Anthony seemed to have it all handled." Benedict shrugs. "He seems to have control of the matter."

"Does he?"

"I think so." Though Benedict didn't sound so convinced.

"I have you any callers yet?" He asks, changing the topic. As much as he loved his family, he only cared to discuss them for so long.

"No..." You confess.

"Not one?" He asks, sounding surprised. "How is that possible?"

"The ton have their eyes on Daphne now. I shall be unlikely able to stand out at all." You tell him.

"I find that hard to believe."

"It is true. I appreciate your concern, but I fear I shall not find a match this year. I shall enjoy the rest of the season as much as I can."

Benedict frowns slightly.

"You need not pity me. I am quite content to wait another year." You assure him, or at least try to.

"Still, wouldn't it be nice to know someone noticed you?"

You keep your mouth shut. You fear him being able to read you too easily. Though it seems your silence was enough of an answer for him.

"You need not feel the need to pretend."

"It's nothing."

Neither of you speaks again. When the dance ends, you bow and part ways from him. Benedict watches you go, sensing you would rather have some time to yourself for now.

♡♡♡

Your mother enters the drawing room where you are reading. She has this morning's issue of Lady Whistledown. You care not for the gossip column.

"It seems Miss Bridgerton is indecisive about the duke."

"Is that so," you hum softly, turning the page in your book.

"She would make a fine duchess, do you not think?"

"Yes, quite."

Your mother looks up at you. You're awfully quiet this morning. "Something the matter?"

"Why should anything be the matter?" You ask.

"No reason... You are just so quiet this morning."

"Forgive me. I didn't get much sleep."

"Are you well?" She asks.

"Well enough."

Your mother comes to sit beside you. She reaches for your hand and pulls it into her lap. "You can speak with me about anything."

You smile and squeezes her hand. "I know."

"A mother knows when her daughter is upset."

"I wouldn't say I'm upset."

"Then what is it?" She asks.

You sigh and put down your book. "I have had no one caller this season. I know I am not diamond, and I know we are not Bridgerton status, but I thought surely one man in all of London would come see me."

"Yes. Well, I thought perhaps that Benedict might."

"Mother."

"I know. I know. You told me yourself. I suppose I am glad you have become friends with them. Though he would make a fine husband."

"I am sure." You smile.

"You will find someone. Perhaps not now, but soon. I am willing to wait with you."

You smile at your mother and lean against her shoulder. She kisses the top of your head gently.

You are thankful you have her.

♡♡♡

The grand picnic was an exciting time. All the ton gathered in the park to enjoy the wonderful weather and promanade. It was a chance to see who was courting who, if at all anyone.

You were in attendance with your mother and a couple of maids. You were sitting under the canopy, fanning yourself gently, not that it was extremely hot today. You scanned the park, looking out for family faces.

Lord and Lady Carlisle were strolling by. You spotted two young boys by the lake, one of which you were certain was the son of Mr Thomas who loved but two houses away from you and your mother.

Your eyes found where the Bridgerton's were stationed. Anthony and Colin appeared to be playing games with their younger siblings. Benedict was seated, watching them. You smile.

The thought of a large family seemed so comforting to you. As an only child, you would never know what it would be like to have the company of siblings.

Perhaps, you think, in your future, you may have many children. You would like your children to have the love and support and chaos of each other.

"You're smiling."

You turn to find your mother looking at you.

"What are you smiling at?" She asks softly.

"Nothing," you lie.

You know she doesn't believe you. You also know you can't hide from her either. "Do you think I can have a large family one day?" You ask.

She smiles. "I do not see why not." Your mother had already spotted the Bridgerton's across the way. She knew they were a large enough family. "One day."

You smile as you turn back to them.

"Why don't you go over? I will be quite alright with my own company for a while."

"Are you certain? I do not mind staying."

She smiles softly. "Go. Enjoy yourself. They are, after all, your friends."

You smile and thank her, rising from your seat to go join them. As you get closer, Benedict and Colin both perk up.

"Hello," you smile.

Anthony turns and smiles, too. "Hello. Come to join us, have you?"

"Is that alright?"

Before Anthony can reply, Benedict speaks up, sitting up in his chair. "Of course. Come, sit with me."

You chuckle and join him under the canopy. You sit in the vacant seat. Violet comes over with a smile. "Good to see you, dear."

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"Nonsense!" She smiles, placing a hand on your shoudler gently.

You watch the children play. Benedict offers you some food from the basket beside him, and you accept. Any sour moods about your prospects has been forgotten.

When Simon approaches on horseback, Daphne is quick to flee from her brother to join him. They stroll away.

"Are you alright?" Benedict takes the opportunity to ask.

"Hm?" You turn to him.

"The other night, you left rather quickly the other night."

"I'm fine. I was just tired. Forgive me." You offer him a smile, but he takes note it doesn't quite light up your face.

"Of course."

You continue to pick at the picnic.

Benedict watches you for a little while, but his attention is torn away when a voice calls out.

"Bridgerton!"

You look up in time to see Berbrooke coming forth with something in his hand. His face looks terrible, as if he took a beating.

"A bring cheerful new, Bridgertons."

Violet and Anthony turn to look at the man.

"I have taken matters in my own hands and sought a special license for my wedding to Miss Bridgerton."

"There is to be no wedding," Daphne states, pleading with him.

You stand, worried for Daphne.

"I told you. The arrangement is cancelled." Anthony recalls.

"Lord Berbrooke, you look in a great deal of pain," Violet says. "Shall we continue this in a more private location?"

"I require no further conversation." He says firmly. "Though perhaps I am finally speaking to the true head of the Bridgerton house. For if it were you, I imagine you would have instructed your sister to take better care than to encourage certain attentions while alone with me on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall. Of course, mere hearsay of such scandal could wreak havoc on even the most influential of families. What would someone like, say, Lady Whistledown do with such unseemly information?"

You stare at the man with shock and disgust. You had no idea lf the details of what has happened, but you know enough to know Daphne would never take part in such behaviour.

"Is that a threat?" Anthony asks.

"It is certainly not. Because in three days, I am to marry. I have the diamond of the season." Berbrooke states. "I have the beey best the ton has to offer. I have a Bridgerton. And I shall save her, as well as your entire family, from the ruin which you could not protect them." He looks at Anthony.

You want so much to make his black eye worse. You don't even realise Benedict holds your arm gently to prevent you from moving.

Simon goes to move past Daphne to do the exact same as you thought. Benedict quickly let's go of you to hold him back.

You're caught off guard by how quickly both men moved.

"I look forward to the union of our great families." Berbrooke grins. His grin sends your stomach turning. "Bridgerton. Hastings."

He leaves.

Anthony is left to look at the special license that had been thrusted upon him.

Daphne looks beyond upset.

Anthony and Violet are quick to see Daphne home. Benedict escorts you back to your mother while Colin sees to his younger siblings.

"Will she be alright?" You ask.

"I'm sure. Though you best leave this to my brother."

"She looked terribly upset."

"As she should be. Lord Berbrooke is a horrid little man." Benedict sighs. "My sister deserves the best."

You smile softly. "I'm rather fond of Daphne. Perhaps I shall pay her a visit soon?"

"I am sure she will be most pleased. For now, give her time."

You nod.

You reuter to your mother who comes to stand with you. She had seen Lord Berbrooke approach.

"Is all well?" She asks.

You let go of Benedict to join her. "It shall be in time, I'm sure."

You turn back to Benedict. "See you soon." He nods and departs.

Your mother loops her arm with yours and walks with you. You tell her little of what happened, but you know she, too, worries about Daphne.

When the eyes of the ton are all on you, there comes great pressure and challenges.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

[cremedensada]

Yandere fem demon who has been trying to tempt you to sinning. Dragging you to shops and boutiques, highly amused when you insist everything she's been trying to get you in has been pretty revealing.

Yandere demon who uses her body to further tempt you. A flirty look here, a lingering touch there - she's pulled out all the stops.

But why weren't you at the very least tempted? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy.

Yandere demon who, while busying herself with seducing a different human, finds herself cornered. It's fine, she's a demon anyway, she'll let these stupid humans think she's fragile and shit.

But you arrive just before she slits their throats - courageously demanding they leave her alone. Brave despite the croak in your voice, and the shaking of your hands. You successfully drew the assailants' interests, abandoning her in favor of you.

In a sudden surge of unnamed emotion, she uses her powers to kill the assailants swiftly before any of them could touch you.

Yandere demon who, cradled in your embrace, figures this is the time to get you. In a way, it's a perfect set up, isn't it? A damsel in distress (not really) being saved by a hero. It's only fair she rewards you for your deeds, right? Surely you would never turn down her offer.

Yandere demon who, before she can voice out her thanks, finds the words disappearing at the tip of her tongue. Looking at your terrified expression, panicked and blubbering out words of concern and apologies.

What were you apologizing for? You didn't know something like this would happen. She's used to this.

Yandere demon who gets stunned as you shouted in frustration when she voiced out her thoughts with nonchalance. Staring at you in awe and surprise as you, frustratedly, insisted how it's exactly the reason why you're sorry.

Why?

You know she's got a reputation, she's beautiful - of course that'll get people's attention. And some people aren't so nice with trying to get her attention on them.

You don't know she's a demon, or that she's befriended you just so she can doom you to sinning. But she did befriend you.

"I care about you. Do I need any more reasons to make sure you don't get hurt?"

A sudden spike in her heartbeat, a flush of her cheeks (demons are actually capable of blushing? Who knew - certainly not her). Touched by your declaration.

You have no clue what you've just made her feel.

Yandere demon who still takes you to boutiques, urging you to wear the clothes she picked out for you. They're less revealing now, but still stylish - which you appreciate. The clothes are nice, but you were never here for them anyway.

You aren't allowed to wear anything remotely revealing anymore. Not if she can help it. Every single inch of your skin is for her to see. Every single part of you is hers.

Constantly hanging around with you, arms linked and touching you. Your popularity spikes the more the two of you are seen together - simple cause and effect.

She kills the people showing open interest towards you - also simple cause and effect.

Yandere demon who abandoned her duties as a demon tempting mortals to sin, in favor of attending to you. For your affection. You care for her, remember? You made that declaration.

Yandere demon who, in a way, got her plans with you fulfilled. She's doomed you, as she intended. Not to eternal damnation - but to herself.

this is so all over the place but i needed to write her immediately. shes invading my thoughts get her out!!!!!

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #yandere scenarios #gn reader #gender neutral reader #tw allusions to being cornered and almost assaulted?? #female yandere

[badgerbl00d]

what makes one piece boys consider fatherhood

☆ characters: sanji, law, shanks

☆ up next: one piece boys experiencing love at first sight

☆ summary: things you do around these characters that make them think of starting families with you..

☆ a/n: this was so fun to write! i hope you all find this as cute as i did :)

sanji

1k words

“But the prince insisted on it, and they had to call Cinderella. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the prince, who gave her the golden shoe..” you looked down at the now sleeping lump on your lap, and gently closed the book. 

“Looks like he’s out.”

Further out on the deck of the Sunny, you could hear the others playing. You identified Usopp’s voice and Luffy's laughter. 

Chopper had fallen asleep to his bedtime story and was out cold on your lap. His tiny breaths were slow and even. 

“He’s been sleeping for at least ten minutes. You know, if you read to him every night he’d probably have an actual bedtime,” Sanji said, his chin resting in his hand. 

He was sitting next to you, having brought you a drink to offset the evening temperature drop that had sent everyone running for sweaters. 

“I know. But he’s a pirate, Sanji,” you defended Chopper’s sleeping schedule, “And he’s old enough now to not need a bedtime.”

“Ah, maybe. But not too old, it seems, for a bedtime story.”

You rolled your eyes, absent-mindedly rubbing Chopper’s back as he slept.

“You know Luffy scraped his knee, playing around with Usopp all day.”

“You don’t say.”

“I swear I’ve seen him come out of battle with less injury,” you laughed, “I patched it up for him and he said he didn’t know I was a doctor.”

“I’m guessing all you did was clean it and put on a band-aid.”

“No idea how he’s made it this long.”

Sanji smiled as he took in a long drag of his cigarette. 

“Don’t smoke around Chopper while he sleeps,” you said, scolding Sanji yet again for the same thing.

He blew out the smoke, before begrudgingly putting it out on the ground.

“Wouldn’t wanna wake the baby,” he said. 

“He looks so peaceful,” you giggled, “I’m glad he feels safe enough to be resting thoroughly.”

You and the cook shared a long look at how his chest rose and fell. 

He would soon be snoring.

Sanji laughed, “My god! Are you sure you didn’t slip melatonin into his hot chocolate?”

You shot him a look.

“He spent all day running around with those two over there,” you gestured towards Luffy and Usopp, “And Robin had him helping her out in the library earlier. Between all that reading and running I’m sure he tired himself out. Does he look comfortable?”

Sanji nodded, smiling at you. 

You softly removed his hat from his head, setting it down next to him. 

“Should we take him to bed?” you asked Sanji.

“Yes. Eventually. But it’s nice out. Let’s go in ten minutes.” “All right, my love.”

You leaned back, letting your arms support your body weight, palms against the wooden planks of the ship. 

Sanji scooted closer to you, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

You closed your eyes, not to sleep but to enjoy the cool air on your face and neck. 

Listening to the sounds of laughter and footsteps come to an end for the day as sleep started to spread throughout the crew.

Sanji silently watched you, unaware of your own dozing off with Chopper on your lap.

He thought about how readily you read him a story from his favorite book. How concern for his well-being had become your number one priority while he was with you. 

He felt his chest swell with a mixture of pride and love as he thought of all the other ways you cared for the crew.

Sewing Nami’s torn clothes, helping Robin with the laundry, reminding Usopp and Luffy to be mindful of their manners, and even making sure the swordsman was getting rest. 

He brought a hand to your back to lightly rub it, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before gazing out at the open ocean. 

Thoughts of painting a room with soft hues of blue and building a crib started to form in the back of his mind. 

He imagined you carrying a baby, softly singing it to sleep. 

Some unfamiliar feeling tugged at his chest, it almost felt like anticipation. 

He took a deep breath and tried, to no avail, to direct his thoughts elsewhere.

A baby was- a lot. And you seemed perfectly content now. 

And anyways, a pirate ship was no place for a baby.

He sighed and pulled his eyes away from you, settling them back on the sea. 

Yet, he could imagine it.

With astounding clarity.

He could imagine buying diapers and binkies. Buying tiny clothes and matching outfits. 

Waking you up in the morning with breakfast and coffee in a house of your own. 

Coming home to you every night, staying in one place.

Your parents visiting and your lives being somewhat normal.

No bounties or navy or treaties or bars or women or swordsmen. 

But not now.

The soft swaying of the ship on choppy waters lulled him back to where he was.

The sounds of life at sea slowly came back to him. 

It was late and he had an early morning, full of cooking for the Pirate King ahead of him. 

“Sweetheart,” he softly spoke in your ear, ever so gently nudging you awake, “Let’s get to bed, hm?”

You yawned, nodding.

Slowly you picked up Chopper, still dead asleep, and carried him down the stairs toward his room.

Sanji followed right behind, the reindeer’s hat in hand. 

He opened the door for you and you walked in laying him down in his bed, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

You stood next to Sanji, bringing your arms around his waist.

He kissed the top of your head, and then your forehead, and then your lips. 

“Tired, princess?”

You nodded, resting your head on his chest. 

Sanji knew what he wanted. 

What you, so fondly looking down at the sleeping reindeer, wanted as well.

But you both had so much time and so many things to do first.

One day, he’d give you everything you wanted.

But for now, he’d carry you to bed.

law

0.7k words

“Okay, what about this one? Or is it too much?”

You turned towards Law, trying to smooth out the leftover wrinkles in your dress.

“You look beautiful in all of them,” Law said, writing something down, only halfway paying attention. 

You groaned, already starting to try on a different dress.

“You’re not paying attention.”

“I am.”

“Law, you haven’t looked up from your notes once. And you can’t just tell me I’m beautiful in everything to make up for it!”

“Well, you are.”

“Ugh!”

A smile spread on his face at your irritation with him, as he continued to go through the loose papers on his desk. 

“Look, here’s a dress that proves you wrong.”

You slowly spun around in a hideously fringed orange dress.

You flashed him a sarcastically large smile.

Law, to your surprise, did look up this time.

“Gorgeous.”

He spun around in his chair, burying his head back in his notebook. 

“Ugh, asshole.”

You sighed and continued to fish through the pile of dresses. 

You spotted a black lace one with a gorgeous neckline. 

Much better. 

“Ok, fine! I look beautiful in everything, especially this dress,” you pulled it down over your head, adjusting the sleeves, “Please confirm.”

You watched Law slide on his glasses and turn the chair back around slowly.

You laughed, “You’re so immature.”

You enjoyed the rare moments when he allowed himself to completely relax and goof off. 

“Just making sure I can give you an honest score, Miss Y/n.”

Oh.. this, he very much did like. 

“Orange dress better,” he lied, amused at how this provoked you.

He kept his eyes glued on you, admiring how snug the dress was on your curves.

You were going to kill him. 

“You know, it’s a good thing we don’t have a kid. Or I’d have to deal with two children.”

Law was just as intently eating up the sight of you. 

He’d meant every bit of it. You were always beautiful in everything, and in nothing. 

But that had caught his attention.

The idea of having a kid. 

You and him with a baby.

You kept sorting through what remained of the pile as your captain's thoughts trailed. He could imagine it clearly.

He’d always made sure you had everything you needed, never hesitating to spend stolen gold on you. 

But he’d give you everything. 

After all, who better to give you a baby than a doctor who loved you more than anyone had ever been loved before?

You, waking him up in the middle of the night to check on the baby. The crew teaching them how to speak and read. Bepo would probably have to be monitored around the baby- but only because he was stronger than he knew. 

Shachi and Penguin would make proper uncles, Law thought, and he was sure that, even if he didn’t, a baby could find amusement in the Straw Hats. 

He imagined the two of you cuddled at night during your hypothetical pregnancy. His cheeks warmed at the thought.

He’d do daily checkups on you, and no better care would be available. 

He was already months ahead of himself and decided that while he finished watching you get ready, he’d let himself imagine it. 

“Okay!” you applied a final lipstick touch-up, and softly adjusted your hair in the mirror, “Will you help me with this necklace? I’ll be back around 10.”

Law stood up, stretching his back before silently making his way over to you. 

“You mentioned us having a baby?”

You rolled your eyes and took hold of the hand he extended toward you. “If you’d like.”

He rested a hand on the small of your back and pulled you into his chest, your giggles flooding his ears.

“C’mere,” he beckoned you to follow him back towards the chair he just got out of. 

He pulled you down into his lap on top of him, locking his arms around your waist.

“Law,” you whined, “I’m gonna be late.”

“Of that,” he started, “I have no doubt.”

You squirmed in his grip trying to free yourself to no avail.

“Relax, sweetheart. 

You aren’t going anywhere tonight. 

We have a baby to make.”

shanks

0.9k words

“You look delicious, baby,” Shanks lightly slapped your ass and you swatted his hands away, picking up your pace to try and keep up with the running monkey ahead of you.

Luffy had wanted to go to the lake and Makino asked if you’d take him.

You had a certain fondness for him, he reminded you of your siblings when they were his age, restless and wild, so you readily agreed. 

“Luffy!” you called, “Luffy, slow down!”

Shanks laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

You pushed your hands against his chest- he was so damn touchy! 

“Shanks, please not now, we’re going to lose Luffy if we don’t catch up with him,” you said, starting to run after him. 

“Alright, alright,” he relented and the two of you ran together, laughing, after him. 

He was already setting up camp when you caught up with him- those stretchy limbs set you at a disadvantage- and was asking for his swim trunks. 

You set down a towel and placed the picnic basket on top of it, throwing Luffy his trunks.

Shanks sat down and pulled you on top of his lap, grabbing a beer in the process.

“What’s that?”

 The boy stood in front of you, one hand on his hips, the other up his nose, and pointed at the drink.

“Beer! Try it!”

“Shanks.”

Luffy reached for the can and you turned him around before he could grab it.

“Why don’t we go in the lake?”

“But Shanks told me if I try to swim all my hair will fall out and I’ll forget how to read.”

You turned to your boyfriend and shot him a disapproving look as he erupted into a fit of childish laughter.

“Well, you don’t know how to read anyway, so let’s go!”

You secured a pair of floaties onto his arms and ran with him to the water, followed by Shanks after he set down some rocks onto the towel so it wouldn’t fly away.

He picked you both up and geared up to throw you into the cold, clear waves. 

Both you and Luffy tightened your grip on the man after realizing what he was intending to do and created a tangle of arms and hands.

He still made the effort, though, and ended up getting thrown in along with both of you. 

You all came up laughing and gasping for air, and Shanks held Luffy as you swam, not wanting to risk anything by leaving him on his own in the water. 

After an hour or so of swimming and splashing and throwing water at each other, Luffy started to get tired and let go of Shanks, paddling towards you as best he could.

You grabbed him and he held on to you, wrapping his little arms around your neck.

Within a few minutes, he was asleep.

Shanks, who also seemed to have calmed down, smiled at you and made his way over. He kissed your cheek.

“I’m gonna go put him down for a nap. He’s so cute,” you said. 

Shanks nodded, not able to resist slapping your ass as you got out of the water. 

You set Luffy down on the blanket, laying down next to him. He was out cold. The warm heat of the sun covered your body and lulled you to sleep right next to Luffy. 

After another hour or so of swimming in the lake and looking for pretty rocks to give you, Shanks made his way towards the both of you, unable to control his smile as he saw you and Luffy asleep bundled up together, your arms wrapped around him.

He thought, for a moment, that he might just steal Luffy away and bring him on board the Red Force. But part of him wanted a baby that was truly yours and his, Luffy was wild and untamed, and Luffy had plenty of his own adventures and stories to live on his own. 

But he could see it so clearly, with how you worried about the kid and cared for him. You were protective and he knew that if anyone threatened or endangered Luffy with you around, they’d meet a grisly end. 

It warmed his heart in a way he’d never experienced. 

He wanted, not just to be a dad, but to make you a mother. 

He sat next to you both and watched, his heart full of contentment. 

“Mmm.. Shanks,” Luffy slowly started to wake up, “‘m hungry.”

“Want a sandwich buddy?”

He sat up, looking groggy, and nodded, rubbing his eyes.

Shanks handed him a sandwich from the picnic basket and rustled his hair. 

Luffy ate, asking Shanks about his maritime adventures, laughing at his stories. 

“Did Y/n bring juice?”

“She sure did! But you should try beer!”

Luffy eagerly nodded and Shanks stifled his laughter as best he could, you were going to kill him. 

You heard coughing and laughing and slowly blinked your eyes open, your brain muddled with sleep. 

Sitting up, you stretched out your limbs and turned toward all the noise.

Luffy had a beer in hand and was chugging it, you saw several other crushed cans littering the ground.

They were both laughing and Shanks looked like he had tears in his eyes. 

Shanks heard you stirring awake and shared a split second of panicked eye contact with you before grabbing Luffy and running before you could start yelling at him. 

You took a deep breath. 

“SHANKS!”

#sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji one piece #sanji fluff #sanji headcanon #sanji smut #law x you #law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #law #law one piece #trafalgar law #law fluff #law headcanons #law smut #shanks x you #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #red hair shanks #shanks one piece #shanks headcanon

[fiction-is-life]

Calling Out to You

Summary: You reconnect with an old friend during the Season, but the young Viscount is not the same as the boy you grew up with.  Requested by @junevoidzombie​

Warnings: Description of injuries, minor character death, period misogyny, Anthony being difficult

~

“Help!” you called, starting to panic as the evening air grew cooler and the forest grew dimmer.  You sniffled and wiped your nose on the sleeve of your dress; your mama was going to be so angry, but the dress was ruined now anyways.  “Is anybody out here?” you cried.

You heard a twig snapping in the distance, and your head snapped up.  You let out a pitiful hiccup, but you finally stopped your incessant blubbering.  You waited a few more moments, hoping the sound would come closer, but it didn’t.  It must have been an animal, you thought.  

“Who’s there?” a voice called.  It didn’t sound particularly friendly, but any help was better than staying out here.  

“My name is (Y/N)!” you called back.  “I tripped and now I fear I have sprained my ankle.”

“Hold on.  I shall be there in a moment, miss,” the voice called back, this time slightly closer.  

In less than a minute, a figure started to take form in the growing darkness.  As he grew closer, you realized that he was younger than you were expecting - perhaps only three years older than yourself.  He had the most beautiful dark hair and eyes, though, and you became conscious of the horrible disarray you were currently in. 

He knelt beside you.  “I know you said your ankle is injured; is there any way you think you can stand on it, with my assistance?”

You shook your head.  “I have already tried, sir.”

“Anthony,” he interrupted.  He cleared his throat.  “You must call me Anthony, miss.”

Your face lit up with a smile.  “Then you must call me (Y/N), Anthony.  My family just moved here from Hertfordshire.  We now live at Turring Manor, and I was exploring the country when I fell.”

He smiled back shyly.  “Well, it would most likely be easier to carry you to my family’s home.  It is much closer than Turring Manor, and the sun is already setting.”

“That would be most appreciated, Anthony.  Thank you!” you replied eagerly.  

The next thing you knew, Anthony was lifting you off of the ground, being extra careful to not jostle your hurt leg too much.  Once you were off of the ground, however, Anthony looked at you while a blush crept across his cheeks.  “Um, it might be easier to walk if you put your arms around me as well.  I wouldn’t want your leg to pain you more than necessary,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.  

“Very well,” you whispered.  You couldn’t help your own blush as you did as he asked you.  Once that was done, he set off in the direction he had come from.

~

“Anthony, there you are darling!  Wherever have you been?”  A very beautiful woman came down the steps as you approached the very impressive home.  It must be Anthony’s mother; the resemblance was uncanny.  

“I am sorry I am late, mother, but our new neighbor fell in our woods and could not walk home,” Anthony explained. 

The lady’s eyes finally fell on you and concern filled them.  “Oh, you poor thing,” she cried.  “Anthony, bring her up to the yellow bedchamber.  I shall have the maids draw a bath and bring her something to eat.”  

Anthony’s mother sprung into action, and before you knew it, you were being laid upon a soft bed and Anthony was being shooed out of the room.  After a luxurious bath, you were given a silk nightgown borrowed from one of Anthony’s sisters.  

Said sisters (at least two of them - you had heard there was at least one more) came to keep you company before it was time to go to bed.  You could tell you all would become fast friends although the two girls were as different as could be.  Daphne was content to stay and practice piano while Eloise was always ready for an adventure.  Life would certainly not be dull living so close to Aubrey Hall.

“So Anthony really carried you all the way from the woods because you fell?” Daphne questioned as you explained what had happened that day.

“Yes, he did.  I couldn’t be more grateful; my parents would have been worried sick if they had not heard from me,” you said.

Daphne sighed, a dreamy look taking over her features.  “That is so romantic.  Like a knight rescuing the princess in the stories papa tells us.  Right, Eloise?” Daphne gushed.

Eloise rolled her eyes at her older sister’s antics.  “Anthony is hardly a knight in shining armor, Daphne.  You are being silly,” Eloise retorted.

Seeing how a fight was about to break out, you said, “He may not be a knight of olde but he certainly rescued me today.”

Eloise and Daphne looked at each other, slow smiles growing on each of their faces, making you nervous.  “Do you love our brother, (Y/N)?” they squealed in unison.

“What?  Of course not!  We just met!” you protested, but the butterflies flying in your stomach told a different story.

~

“Anthony!  You and Benedict - and Colin if he can behave himself and not eat all the biscuits - must come to my tea party this afternoon,” Daphne decreed at the breakfast table.  Her proclamation was met with several groans and one small protest of “Hey!”

Anthony scowled at his younger sister.  “Tea parties are for girls, Daphne.  Besides, I have a shooting lesson this afternoon,” he said.

Daphne beamed despite the implied insult.  “No you don’t!  I already asked papa, and he has rescheduled your lesson.  He hopes to join us for a bit after his meeting with Lord Aberly,” she said primly.  Her eyes glimmered with a spark of mischief.  “(Y/N) shall also be there,” she added in a sing-song voice.

“Fine, we shall attend your tea party.”

“Oh, come on, Anthony!  Why did you have to accept for the both of us?”

~

“Are you excited for the new baby, Ant?” you asked as you strolled in Aubrey Hall’s garden.  

He shrugged, making his broadening shoulders fill his jacket even more.  He had changed so much in the year he had been away at university, but he was still the same Anthony, thank goodness.  “I suppose.  It is always nice to welcome a new sibling, but the novelty has worn off.  Each baby is just like the last,” he chuckled.

You slapped his arm playfully, giggling as well.  “How could you say that, Anthony?” you scolded.  “Are you going to think that of your own children as well?”

You thought you saw his eyes flicker over your form with a strange expression in them, but it must have been a trick of the light for when his eyes returned to yours they were his normal welcoming brown.  

“No, I shall probably become as tender-hearted as my father when each babe is welcomed.  And dote on my wife for bringing such a miracle into the world,” he replied, that funny trick of the light occurring again and making your stomach inexplicably flip.

~

His father knelt to gather flowers for his mother, prompting Anthony to do the same.  “I shall gather some for (Y/N).  She was just admiring these daffodils the other day,” he spoke as he used his pocket knife to cut the loveliest blooms.  “I believe I will do as you suggested and ask her -”  

A thump behind him interrupted him.  

“Father?  Father!”

~

“Papa has inherited a piece of land in Scotland.  We are leaving within the week to go there.”  You stood in the door of what was now Anthony’s study.  He looked so small and lost sitting there, his late father’s portrait above him.

He nodded his head briefly before looking back down at the papers before him that required his attention.  “I shall see you when you return then.  Safe travels,” he spoke in a clipped tone.

“You don’t understand.  We are renting out Turring Manor and moving to Scotland.”

His head snapped up at this, but his eyes were distant and cold, his jaw set.  There was a pregnant pause before he spoke, “Then I wish you all the best, Miss (Y/L/N).  May God be with you.”

His terse farewell cut you like a knife.  You swallowed the lump in your throat.  “And with you, Lord Bridgerton.”

  You fled the house before anyone could see your tears fall.

~

Anthony was in the middle of his set with Miss Sherwood when there was a commotion at the entrance to the ballroom.  He looked to see a family enter, but they were blocked from his seeing their faces.  Accepting defeat, he tipped the corners of his lips up in what Miss Sherwood would know as a fond smile as he resumed their dance, forgetting the interruption entirely as the dance came to an end. 

“Brother!  How was your dance with the lovely Miss Sherwood?” Benedict clapped him on the back and handed him a glass of punch as he joined him near the terrace doors.  

He sighed, letting his austere Viscount visage fade just enough for Benedict to see how tired his brother was.  “She is well-spoken and graceful.”  He looked away from his brother and out towards the crowd.  “She shall make a wonderful Viscountess.”

Benedict’s eyes softened but Anthony refused to look at him.  “Will that be enough for you, Brother?  A wife and a mother to your children?”

Anthony fixed a glare on Benedict that would have made a lesser man shrink back and admit defeat.  “Isn’t that the point of the institution?  I shall gain an heir and somebody to take care of my households while I provide her with a name and protection from material poverty.”

“Some might add love into that mission statement,” Benedict said with a hint of sarcasm.

Anthony paused, but his mind was more made up than ever.  “I gave that notion up a long time ago, Brother.  Love brings nothing but heartache,” he spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion.

The brother’s staring contest was broken by a familiar voice.  “Lord Bridgerton, Mr. Bridgerton.”

The tall, dark haired men bowed.  “Lady Danbury, how do you do?”  Benedict took on the lion’s share of the social niceties as Anthony still had that far off look in his eyes.  He was not attending to the conversation at all, but Lady Danbury did not grow offended at his slight.

“Very well, Mr. Bridgerton.  I wanted to introduce you both to someone.  Her family has just moved back from Scotland - just in time for the season,” Lady Danbury continued, bringing you forward.

“(Y/N)!” Benedict cried, grabbing your hand to place a kiss onto your glove.

Lady Danbury raised an eyebrow in surprise, but her eyes were calculating.  “So you two know each other?”

“Miss (Y/L/N)’s family used to be our neighbors.  We spent many a day together before they moved away,” Benedict explained.  You were glad for it as your tongue was tied.  

“That is wonderful.  Then you two can help me introduce Miss (Y/L/N) to some other members of the Ton,” Lady Danbury smiled but fixed her eagle gaze on Anthony who had broken out of his stupor enough to gaze open-mouthed at you.  “Her family would like to see her settled.”

Benedict’s easy smile flashed.  “That will not be so hard a task for one as lovely as you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You smiled wryly.  “It may become a little more challenging when people hear this is by no means my first season out,” you spoke, with that familiar teasing lilt to your voice.

“Nonsense.”  Your head snapped up at the almost angry outburst from the Viscount.  He cleared his throat.  “Many men will find you to be all the more acceptable for your age,” he said.

You smiled and Anthony made the mistake of looking at you - really looking at you - this time.  “You are right, my lord.  Many bachelors will be looking to find a wife before they themselves enter their dotage,” you teased, making Benedict laugh.

Anthony could not recover himself fast enough  - perhaps tell you that were more beautiful than the day you left - before Benedict was offering you his hand and leading you towards the dance floor.

~

“Miss (Y/L/N), may I have your next set?” Anthony intercepted you the moment Benedict led you off the dance floor.  He was spinning his signet ring on his pinkie finger.

“Of course, my lord,” you spoke even as he was already grasping your hand and leading you back onto the floor.

You spent half of the set in silence.  You could tell even after all these years when Anthony needed time to think.  You focused on the steps of the waltz and actively tried to ignore how it felt to be in his arms.

“How was Scotland?” Anthony finally broke the silence.

You blinked, startled.  “It is a most beautiful country, my lord,” you replied.

He nodded.  “Were there no eligible gentlemen there?”

Your brow furrowed.  “Of course there were many,” you sputtered.

“Why did you not wed then?”  The interrogation continued.

Your nostrils flared with your temper.  “I do not believe that is any of your business, my lord,” you stated, a hint of anger behind your words.  “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, but I am a man; it is different.”

You scoffed, drawing the attention of some onlookers.  “Yes, I suppose it is.  I am but a woman.  Therefore my only purpose is to wed and have babies.”  You stopped dancing and broke out of his grasp.  You stood with your fists clenched at your sides.  “I heard you when you were near the terrace, my lord.  I cannot countenance how much you have changed.”

He watched in equal parts anger and despair as you walked away from him and out the doors.

~

“Mama, what are these?”  You fingered the petals of the daffodils that had been arranged in a beautiful bouquet.

“They must be from a potential suitor who saw how gracefully you danced with Benedict last night,” she replied, still not daring to mention the scene you had caused when you had stormed away from Anthony.  “There is most likely a card in them, peach.”

There was indeed.  You opened it to find a familiar neat hand.

I remembered these were your favourites, is all it read.

You closed the card and slipped it into your pocket.  “They are just from Lord Bridgerton.  An apology for our row.”

You purposely did not meet your mother’s eye so as not to see the look of disappointment that overtook her features.

~

“Who is that walking with Lady Danbury?”

“That is Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict quickly informed the fair-haired earl he and Anthony had been walking with along with Miss Sherwood.  “Would you like me to introduce you both?  She is an old friend of our family.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Bridgerton, that would be delightful!” Miss Sherwood cried.  “Wouldn’t it be, Lord Bridgerton?”

Anthony nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line.  “Most delightful.”

You and Lady Danbury had already come upon the group, and you paused.  “Miss (Y/L/N), you must allow me to introduce my good friend Lord James Thatcher, the Earl of Wembey and Miss Sherwood of Bath.”

You curtsied politely to the both of them.  “It is a pleasure to meet you both,” you said smoothly, years of good breeding taking over as your mind reeled.  So this was the Miss Sherwood that he had spoken of.  

“Miss (Y/L/N), would you care to join me on a small boat ride on the lake?  It is the perfect weather for it,” Lord Wembey addressed you directly, startling you.  You could feel Lady Danbury’s gaze on you.

“That would be most lovely, my lord,” you spoke as you took his proffered arm.

~

“Lord Wembey has invited us to attend the theater tonight with him in his box.  Is that not lovely, my dear?” your mama crowed.  This would not be the first time the handsome earl had singled you out in his attentions.  They had become quite marked indeed.

“That is wonderful, mama,” you replied, not looking up from your needlework.  “Shall I wear the yellow silk, do you think?”  And the conversation turned back to fashion plates and fripperies.

~

The pall mall ball soared into the air - straight into the woods and definitely nowhere near the intended target.  You were never good at pall mall, but what you lacked in talent you made up for in enthusiasm.  And the annual tournament was no exception - especially since it was your first after returning.

“I suppose (Y/N) must return to the woods,” Eloise teased.  “Hopefully you do not need to rescue her this time, Anthony.”

“Rescue her?  Whatever do you mean, Miss Bridgerton?” Miss Sherwood asked.  

You and Anthony both opened your mouths to explain, but Benedict beat you to it.  “Many years ago, Miss (Y/L/N) was walking in our woods when she injured herself.  Luckily for her, though, Anthony was there to help her home.”

“Oh, how wonderful!  It was like fate brought you together,” Miss Sherwood gushed, just as Daphne had all those years ago.

Anthony cleared his throat and brushed his free hand down his pant leg, trying to dislodge an imaginary piece of lint.  “Yes, well, it was a very long time ago, and I am sure the memory has been distorted until it seems much loftier than it is,” he spoke, more harshly than he meant in his flustered state.  “Shall we play on?  I believe it was your turn, Miss Sherwood.”

~

“I have noticed Lord Wembey and (Y/N) are spending a great deal of time together, Brother,” Daphne spoke as she entered Anthony’s study.  

“Have they?  I have not really noticed,” Anthony spoke with a clenched jaw, his pen arrested in mid air where it dropped a rogue dot of ink on the otherwise pristine page.

Daphne tilted her head and pursed her lips - a look she had perfected from childhood.  “I find that hard to believe, Brother.  Everyone expects him to propose - perhaps even tonight at mama’s ball,” she said.  She huffed lightly as Anthony still did not look up from his work.  “And people are also wondering why you have not proposed to Miss Sherwood yet.”

Anthony finally set down his pen and looked at her.  “How are those two connected, Sister?” he ground out.

Daphne did not break eye contact.  “Some people are saying that you have not proposed to Miss Sherwood because you hold a tendre for (Y/N),” she explained.

“Why would I care about the words of gossips?”  Anthony growled.

Daphne leaned forward, her face set just as hard as his.  “You may not care, but if you do not fix this, you could inadvertently tarnish (Y/N)’s reputation and ruin her chances at an excellent match.”  

Daphne made her way back towards the corridor.  “Maybe think about that, Brother,” she said before she shut the door behind her.

~

You rode fast and hard, uncaring of anything but getting away.  You did not even care that the skies looked as if they would open up at any second and flood the ground beneath you.  It would only be too fitting for your mood.

Another one.

You had rejected another perfectly suitable gentleman.  

What was wrong with you?  Lord Wembey was everything you were looking for in a husband.  He was young, titled, wealthy beyond measure, kind hearted, well-read.  He could do with some darker hair, but that was beyond his control.

You drew your horse up short at that thought.  Were you seriously comparing Lord Wembey to Anthony - yes, for he was still Anthony in your thoughts - and finding Lord Wembey wanting?

You breathed heavily as that thought washed over you, and you wanted to scream.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Anthony appeared on horseback.  He cut an even more impressive figure than he used to, but that was no wonder.  His eyes locked on you, and he turned his horse to meet yours.

And you fled.

You could feel him following you, his better knowledge of the ground and larger steed allowing him to gain ground rapidly.  You could feel the promised rain start to pummel your back, but you pushed your horse faster.  Eating up ground faster than you could see it as your vision was blurred with rain and tears.  

“(Y/N), watch out!” were the last words you heard before your body slammed into the ground.

~

You opened your eyes to see it was already light in your bedroom.  Your mother sat beside you.  “Mama?” you rasped, wincing at how it made your head ache.

The lines on your mother’s face smoothed as she looked at you, before promptly starting to sob.  “Oh, you are awake!  We thought we had lost you forever!”

You scrunched your forehead as you tried to sit up.  You were immediately assisted by two maids.  “What happened, mama?”

“Oh, you would have been lost without him!  Going out for a ride in horrific weather, what were you thinking?” your mother was working up into one of her fits of hysteria.

“Mama!” you broke her off.  “Lost without whom?”

“Oh, Anthony, of course!  He saw you get thrown from your horse, and he carried you all the way back on his.  He personally saw that the doctor was fetched, too, wonderful boy,” she gushed.

You fiddled with the comforter, unsure of what to say.  

There was a knock on the door. You turned your head to see Anthony standing there, fidgeting with his signet ring just as he did in the days immediately following his father’s death.

“I shall leave you two to have a moment of privacy,” your mother whispered as she stood.

You attempted to reach out to her, stop her, but she was too quick.  She beckoned the two maids to follow her but left the door open for propriety’s sake.  

Anthony did not move from his position near the door even after your mother vacated the room.  The air felt heavy, and you were finding it hard to breathe.  You smoothed the bedcovers although they were practically perfect.

“I am so relieved you are awake,” Anthony croaked, his voice raspy with disuse.

You steadfastly continued your study of the linens.  “I am told I have you to thank for that, my lord.”  You congratulated yourself on keeping your tone even.

“Will you stop that?” Anthony’s tone was sharp, and you finally looked at him fully.  His face was drawn, and it was clear he had not shaved in a few days.

“Stop what, my lord?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He walked towards your bed, his face red.  “Calling me that,” he practically spat.  

You scoffed, not believing he was truly acting so childish.  “Well, it is your title.  It would be improper for me not to -”

“Marry me, then.”

You must have hit your head harder than you thought for you were certainly hearing things.  “What?” you breathed.

Anthony knelt at your side and took your hand tenderly in his.  “Marry me, (Y/N), please,” he implored.  He shook his head.  “I should have asked you ten years ago, but I thought I could prevent my heart from breaking by not letting it be touched.”  His gaze fell on your joined hands.  He cleared his throat.  “I was a fool.  I disregarded the fact that it had already been stolen from me.”

His warm brown orbs found yours, and you felt your heart climb into your throat.  You took a rattling breath as your eyes stung with tears.

“Anthony…” you breathed.

No further words were needed as your lips joined in the kiss you had always been waiting for.

~

My Masterlist

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony x reader #regency #bridgerton #bridgerton season 2

[finalgilmoregirl]

a/n : feeling angsty, no gender specified, no y/n.

payday. the day mike looked forward to and also dreaded the most. payday meant he was able to take his hard earned money straight to the bank, where he would cash his check... and then watch his earnings get flushed down the toilet as he made a payment on whatever bill he was behind, which was usually a few…

you knew this dilemma. mike voiced it to you every time he came home from the bank and flopped on the couch as he tried to list off all of the other things he needed to pay for with the little money he had left. now he has been good with budgeting, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re providing for yourself and a growing young girl. you paid for groceries and abby’s clothes every now and then but mike wouldn’t let you do any more, always concerned that he looked like he was asking for handouts.

so you tried to do a nice thing. you did do a nice thing, but to mike it seemed like the complete opposite.

when he had gone to the bank that week and attempted to make a payment on his water and heating bill, the bank teller informed him that it was already paid for.

“what- are you sure?” mike was confused. he knew he was at least two months behind on paying it. he had done the math earlier that week. just as his confusion started to make him spiral he was ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of the bank teller saying your name.

“excuse me?”

“it says here that’s who paid for the bill.”

which is what brought him storming through the door of his home. he tossed his jacket off and onto the back of the couch and began angrily pacing, stewing in his upset.

you playfully chased abby out of her room as you both went to the front room to greet mike.

“hey babe”, you said out of breath, smiling as you both came to a halt. “you okay?”

“abby, could you please go to your room?” mike said calmly, but by the flair of his nostrils and the way he kept a hand on his hip you know something was very wrong.

“why?” abby asked, confused and probably sensing her brother's bad mood as well.

“just go. please.” he repeated, to which the young girl complied, swinging her arms while she walked away.

you turned to him, now concerned. “what’s wro-”

“i went to the bank today.” he interrupted your question, causing you to stand up straighter in surprise. “i tried to pay for the water and heat, but they told me you already did.”

a feeling of anxiety began to creep into your body at his aggressive tone as you looked down to avoid his angry gaze. “yeah, i did.”

“why would you do that?” mike asked, walking so he was in front of you, less than a foot apart. you felt like you were being interrogated.

“i just thought—” you started, but he interrupted you again.

“you thought what? that i couldn’t take care of it myself?”

“n-no i know—” you suddenly became bashful, a little embarrassed even as you thought back to you calling a few days earlier to make the payment.

“cause i don’t need your help. i’ve been doing this on my own for a long time and i don’t need you coming in and acting like—.”

“hey!” it was your turn to interrupt him. you weren’t going to let him take your actions and twist them into something evil. “i live here too mike. forgive me if i want to contribute.”

mike scoffed and turned away for a moment, rubbing his hand over his eyes before he continued. “you know, if i had known you would be so overbearing i would’ve never asked you to move in with me.”

you visibly flinched at that as you felt a sharp pain go through your heart. you don’t know what exactly caused the pain. the comment itself, or the way he said it so nonchalantly, like he truly meant it.

you looked away as you felt your throat constrict. you weren’t going to cry, all that could do in that moment was look like an admission of guilt. even though you know you did nothing wrong.

“well,” you sighed, swallowing the lump you had felt forming. “maybe i shouldn’t have fought so hard to end my lease early.”

you were referring to the weeks you had spent fighting with the landlord of your old apartment building. you and mike had begun the moving process anyway, excited to start the new chapter of your lives together. now here you were four months later, almost ten months into your relationship and you wished you could just walk out of the door and go back to that very apartment like you often did when you and mike would argue early on in your relationship. sure it was lonely, but you just wanted to be away from mike right now. so you did the second best thing and walked out of the living room, trying to find any other place in the house that could serve you peace.

mike felt bad about his choice of words, and about his whole reaction to the situation. it was in your nature to help people in any way you could, but mike didn’t want you to see him as a charity case.

hours passed and he stayed in the living room. laying on the couch with his eyes closed as he tried to rest. hoping sleep could help the situation somehow, clear his head at least. this proved a failure though, as through the thin walls he could hear you in the deathly quiet of the house.

every sniffle made his heart race and every deep breathe you took made him want to wrap you in his arms and whisper gentle words to you. but for the life of him, he couldn’t get himself to get up and find you. too afraid that he’d make things worse.

it wasn’t until he checked his watch and saw it was nearing nine o’ clock that he’d have to talk to you sooner or later. he knew he wasn’t strong enough to go to bed without making things right with you.

he walked to abby’s room first, where she was sat on her bed reading. she’d been in here silently for hours. thinking about how he didn’t even think to check on her after the argument made his stomach turn. she did the same thing when their parents used to fight, keeping quiet and to herself until the storm had passed.

“hey” he said from his spot at the door. “did you eat today?” abby just glanced at him and nodded.

mike went over to sit next to her. “listen” he spoke softly, “we’re okay, alright? don’t worry about whatever you heard. everything’s okay.”

abby just looked at him again and set her book down on her bedside table. she laid down and closed her eyes, signaling she was ready for bed.

after mike gave abby her goodnight kiss and stayed with her until she fell asleep, he quietly left her room, now intending to find you.

he entered your shared bedroom and found that you weren’t there, however from his bedroom window he could see the backyard light was on, giving away your presence.

as he reached the back door, he saw you sat on the steps, with nothing but a thin long sleeve covering your arms against the chilly night. you had to have been there for a while, he thought. he slowly opened the door and a cool breeze hit his face, his hoodie giving him enough warmth to avoid shivering.

his steps were basically silent as he approached you, which is where he noticed the distinct box sat next to you.

a box of cigarettes. mike knew you had smoked before you had started dating. you quit for good when you realized the relationship was getting serious, you knew it was a bad habit. you had tried to quit in the past but your worries got the best of you. but now you had the right motivation, you didn’t want to be a bad influence to abby and mike appreciated that, being supportive in your journey to quit for good. it had been almost six months since you last smoked (cigarettes at least), and now here you were.

mike cleared his throat, “i thought you threw those away.”

you didn’t look at him. you just kept staring out into the view of dewey grass and blowing trees.

after a moment you answered, “don’t worry, i didn’t smoke one.” you looked at him for a second before looking back ahead. “i was just thinking about it.”

mike didn’t know what to say, opting to just take a seat next to you. he continued to study you, taking notice of the puffy rims of your eyes and chapped lips. the cold failed to hide the evidence of your crying.

“i thought it would be a nice thing to do.” you said softly, finally continuing what you were trying to say to him earlier. “you work so hard to take care of us. and i thought it’d be a good way to show my appreciation. to show that you don’t always have to take on every burden on your own.”

mike let out a deep breath and looked up, willing back the tears he felt building up behind his eyes. he knew you meant well. he had known that since the beginning. but he was too stubborn and stupid to accept that sometimes the people that care about him will do things for his own good. he needed you to survive. and you needed him.

“i don’t even know why i said that. about you moving in.” he turned to look at you again. he said your name quietly, almost whisper like. “ever since i’ve known you there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t want to wake up and see your face. you have to know that.”

you finally turned and held his gaze, making the beat of mike’s heart quicken. “i think so. it’s hard to know for sure when you reject my help so often.”

“what do you mean?”

“i want to help your problems mike, not make them worse. that's what i'm here for. i’ve shown you i’m in this for the long run and you know that, but if I'm somehow making things more difficult for you then maybe i should-"

"no no no please. you're not, seriously." mike sounded desperate. and that's because he was. he couldn't lose you over this. "you help me in a about a million different ways every day. and you shouldn't have to use your money to do even more if you don't have to."

you shook your head, looking down again, but mike leaned in closer to keep looking into your eyes. "you shouldn't have to kill yourself trying to provide for her anymore mike. if you really want this to work- then i can't just sit by and watch you take on the pressure alone."

you looked back up and finally into his eyes. you could see the hesitation, the fear he had at the thought of letting you do this and you regretting ever trying to help him.

"please" you pleaded, reaching your hand out and grabbing his where it was placed on his knee. "please let me help you."

mike squeezed your hand back and nodded slowly. he knew you, and he knew you wouldn't regret it.

#mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt angst

[blackbirdi]

One-Sided pt. II

If you haven't read the first part already, the link to part 1 is here

I'm so sorry this took so long, guys, I was struggling with ideas. Anyways, enjoy :)

Brief Description: Sirius begins to notice how suddenly you're around him a lot less than usual. What could he have done to make you want to avoid him at all costs? And why does your avoidance hurt him this much?

Point of View: 3rd Person

Word Count: 2181

Character: Sirius Black x Reader

House: Gryffindor

Year: Sixth Year

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Sirius has talked to Y/n last, and it's driving him up the wall. The only other time where he doesn't talk to her for that long is during the summer, but at least they owl back and forth non-stop, and now suddenly he hasn't heard her sweet voice in two damn weeks.

And it's not as though he hasn't tried to talk to her. Hell, he's been going out of his way to run into her just to ask what was up with her, but every time she sees him, she runs away. And now she's changed the time of her daily activities (going to the library to read/study, walk in the courtyard, visit Hagrid, etc.) – not that he knew the times she was going by heart before she changed them – so now he can't even run into her then.

Two weeks. Two damn weeks. And he's not going any longer without her.

It was Saturday and the Marauders were all hanging out in their dormitory, and Sirius was itching to find Y/n and beg ask her to forgive him for whatever he must have done to have her ignore him like this.

"Remus," Sirius calls, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" Remus hums, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading, which only caused Sirius to grow more frustrated.

He closes his eyes before he snaps at Remus, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The only thing that does is cause his eyes to well up with tears. 

Godric, what was up with him? Was Y/n really causing him to get this upset?

When he speaks next, his voice breaks, which causes all the other Marauders to lift their heads and look at Sirius with concern.

"Why won't Y/n talk to me?"

The other three Marauders share a few glances at one another before looking back at Sirius. The pity in their eyes as they look at him causes Sirius to grow frustrated once again.

His eyes, which were previously filled with tears, harden as he wipes them away. His lips pull back into a thin line as he glares down at his own hands.

"She keeps avoiding me! I haven't said anything to her in weeks!" he cries angrily. "And even when I do say something to her, she just ignores me and runs off! Did I do something to make her mad at me?"

"I'm sure you didn't do anything, Padfoot," James tries to comfort him. "Maybe Y/n just needs space for a while."

"Space from what?" Sirius snaps. "What did I do that would've wanted her to space herself from me? And only me! I haven't seen her ignoring you three, or anyone else for that matter! What did I do!?"

“Pads –” Remus starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Why do you care so much anyway?” James asks. “It’s just Y/n.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter all shoot James a glare, all three of them knowing that was not the right thing to ask.

“Yeah, Y/n, my friend,” Sirius sneers. “I care because Y/n is one of my closest friends and now suddenly she’s ignoring me! Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Because it does, a lot.”

“We know, Padfoot,” Peter replies, trying to make his voice sound comforting, although to Sirius it sounded more like pity. “I think James was trying to ask why you’re so … no quiet over dramatic about it … but more upset than you normally would be about something like this.”

“Yeah,” James agrees. “That’s exactly what I was trying to ask, thank you, Pete.”

Sirius glares at the both of them, his teeth gritting together as he tries to hold back from snapping at the two of them.

Why was he upset? Really? One of his best friends just straight up ditched him! Of course he was fucking upset!

“How do you twats not understand that I am upset my friend has fucking abandoned me!” Sirius snarls, his voice wavering as he tries to control his anger.

The others share another, worried glance, which drives Sirius even more insane.

Of course, Remus, James, and Peter quickly caught on that Y/n was avoiding Sirius, and were even quicker to catch on why. It wasn’t that hard to see that Y/n had finally had enough of her silly little crush on Sirius and was trying to stomp it out by avoiding him. And of course, Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail knew that avoiding Sirius at all costs wasn’t going to get rid of Y/n’s feelings for Sirius. And of course, Lupin, Potter, and Pettigrew knew that Sirius’s own feelings towards Y/n were developing beyond friendship.

“I can talk to her if you want me to,” Remus offers.

The usual stormy grey of Sirius’s eyes had darkened considerably in anger, his eyes narrowing at Remus in a glare.

“You’ve done quite a lot of talking to her,” he hisses. “A lot more than I have in Merlin knows how long. Do you know how frustrating that is, Remus? To see that Y/n, who suddenly hates me, is still all buddy-buddy with the three of you? Do you know how shitty it makes me feel when I see her talking to you and then she immediately runs away whenever she sees me? Do you?”

“No,” Remus replies, his voice squeaky at the anger in Sirius’s tone.

"That's what I thought," Sirius snarls, standing up from his bed abruptly.

With quick strides Sirius finds himself at the dormitory door, the door opened an inch before Peter asks curiously, "Where are you going?"

"To fucking find her!" Sirius snaps, turning around and facing his friends. "I can't keep going like this, without her. I - I need her, okay? I need her because ... because I love her. I love her. Holy shit, I love Y/n. I'll be back guys, but I need to find Y/n, even if that means searching every nook and cranny of this godforsaken castle."

He's out the door in another split second, the door slamming closed behind him.

Silence settles over the other three as they share glances, confused evident on each of their faces.

"Well," Remus finally mutters, breaking the silence. "He handled that a lot better than Y/n did when she realized she was in love with Sirius."

–––––––––––

To Sirius's surprise it didn't take him that long to find her. She was sitting in the courtyard, leaning against the truck of a tree with a book on her lap.

Sirius was careful to approach her quietly, not wanting her to spot him and jump up and run away (like she had been doing for two weeks straight).

When Y/n finally looked up from her book, the first thing she saw was Sirius looming in front of her. Her eyes widened as they made eye contact, scrambling to pick up her book and getting to her feet.

"Y/n, wait," Sirius snaps, grabbing onto her wrist with a vice-like grip before she could run away. "Please, don't run again, please."

Y/n sighs, trying to tug her wrist out of Sirius’s grip before she turns and faces him for the first time since the Quidditch game. Her struggling ceases as she sees the pain behind Sirius’s eyes, the pain that she would’ve caused every single time she ignored him or ran away.

“Please, Y/n/n,” he begs in a whisper, pulling her closer to him. “Please, don’t leave me again. I miss you so much. And I am so, so sorry if I did something to hurt you, or did something that made you want to avoid me. I never meant to, I don’t think I have done anything, but if I did just say the word and I will hold myself responsible for it and I will do anything I can to get back in your good graces because I miss you. So, so much. I hate that I haven’t seen you in two weeks, I hate that I haven’t talked to you in two weeks, I hate that I haven’t heard your voice in two weeks, and I hate that you’ve been avoiding me. I’m not blaming you because obviously it must have been something I did, but please Y/n, please, please, please stop avoiding me. I miss you.”

A wave of guilt washes over Y/n as she listens to Sirius, watching tears well in his eyes as it gets increasingly harder for him to talk without choking on his words. However, she can't help the little flutter her heart gives at his words.

Sirius takes a breath, trying to collect himself as he finally says everything he was feeling.

"And-and I hate how much it hurts that you've been doing this. I shouldn't care, I really shouldn't, but I do. I care so goddamn much, Y/n. It's been two weeks, two fucking weeks! I shouldn't be this effected, but I am. I've missed you more in two weeks more than I've missed anything else in my life, more than I miss the Marauders during the holidays, more than I miss Hogwarts during the summer, more than I miss the heat of the summer during the winter, more than I miss the sun in a rainstorm. I missed you, Y/n, and it's only been two weeks. So please, please, please, please, tell me what I did wrong so I can right it and we can go back to how we were before whatever I did."

A pause, a heartbeat before Sirius adds in a trembling voice, "Please."

Y/n takes a shaky breath, trying to stop the heat from rising in her cheeks and giving her away.

"Sirius," she says slowly.

"Please," he interrupts her, his voice breaking. "Please, Y/n. I don't know what I did, but whatever it must have been, I am so sorry. Please, please, please forgive me."

"Sirius," Y/n repeats, "you didn't do anything. I just... I realized something and I shut myself away from you. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. I never meant to hurt you like this."

Sirius stares at her, confusion bubbling up within him as he listens to her explain.

"I-I don't understand," he admits in a quiet voice. Her stares up at her helplessly. "Why would you avoid me like you have if I didn't do anything? You haven't avoided the others, just me."

Y/n sighs, her heart thudding in her chest as she looks away from Sirius and finally admits in a small voice, "I'm in love with you."

The world stops, for the both of them.

Y/n can't breathe, why would she admit that!? Everything, everything, has been ruined. She ruined their friendship! Why would she do that!?

Sirius can't breathe, did she mean it!? Everything, everything, is going to change, for the better. She felt the same! But why did she avoid him if she loved him?

After what felt like hours of silence, Sirius responds, "I love you, too."

Sirius's heart pounds against his ribcage. Even though she said it first, it's still so hard to admit it.

Y/n's heart pounds against her ribcage. There is no way in hell that he actually feels the same.

"I – w-what?” she stutters, mouth dry.

“I love you too,” Sirius repeats, dropping her wrist. His hands come up to cup her jaw, holding her face in his hands as he smiles down at her. “I-I was thinking about how much I missed you, everything about you – not just your presence – and I guess that led me to realize that I would never feel this way about someone I thought of as my friend. Y/n/n, I realized that I’m in love with you.”

Y/n mirrors Sirius’s smile, relief flooding through her body as her cheeks flush with pink.

“I-I’m glad,” she whispers. “I was scared that you didn’t feel the same; that’s why I started avoiding you. I thought that if I was around you less my feelings would go away, which obviously didn’t work. But I was scared to say something in case I made things awkward between us.”

Sirius chuckles, pressing his forehead against hers, asking in a soft voice, “How could I not be in love with you? You, Y/n L/n, are the most kind, thoughtful, caring, smart, funny, beautiful woman in the whole world; I don’t know how I didn’t realize my feelings for you sooner. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sirius,” Y/n murmurs back. She closes her eyes, relishing in the feeling of Sirius being this close to her.

A comfortable silence fell over the two as they soak in each other’s presence, two hearts beating as one.

Two minutes. It has been two minutes since Sirius has admitted his feelings for Y/n, and it’s making him feel like he’s on top of the world.

Taglist: @littleshadow17 (who asked for a part 2 a month ago. I hope it was up to your standards lol). And @rosieandthethorns (who didn't asked to be tagged but I figured I should let you know so you can stop foaming at the mouth and writhing on the floor lmao)

#i'm sorry i took so long in getting this out guys #my writing brain wasn't writing #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #marauders era #padfoot #requited love

[scribblesofagoonerr]

So, history is just repeating itself then?

This one got more votes so here's the next post, I'm still sick and I just feel miserable now but here we go ✌🏼

Bday balloon cele day to me 🎈

⟫ part 1 | part 2

You knew the minute that it happened that it was over, it was well and truly over. The dream of the olympics had come crushing down.

Minutes after it happened and the whole stadium is at a complete standstill and the loud noise of the fans was now completely silent. Meanwhile, your team mates all looked at you with sombre facial expressions while trying to be there for you in any way that they could.

"Y/N kiddo, are you alright?" Katies' usual teasing tone has disappeared and now it's full of concern.

"Y/N, you're gonna be alright" Caitlin chips in as she tries to take a hold of your head.

You can't help but flinch and pull your hand away as you writhe around in pain, "No, get off, it's my... it's my knee. Get off!" You try and swat at your team mates' hands around who are trying to offer their support, but you can't care a less for that now as the tears stream down your face, "It's... It's all over" Still continuing to cry in pain as the realisation sinks in.

"Let's give her some space, girls" Kims' authortive tone steps in and directs the girls away from crowding you, other than Beth and Viv who still remain by your side.

"It's gonna be okay kiddo" Beth holds your hand and tries to reassure you.

The medics are quick to rush onto the pitch as soon as they see what's happened, they all share a look and a stretcher is brought onto the pitch.

"It's better to get her inside so we can access the damage there" You're not sure whos' even speaking at this point, you are istaught with tears spilling down your cheeks and it's heartbreaking for all your teammates, coaches and even the fans to see it happen to somebody so young.

Your sure that the image of you being carried on the strecher with tears sreaming down your cheeks is going to do it's rounds on social media but in that moment, you really couldn't carealess about anything.

The olympics' dream in that moment was completely over.

You are non the wiser to the medical jargon that is being spilled from the medical teams' mouth that's surrounding you; You just sit crumpled up on the improv medic bed as they work to access your extent of your injury.

You only have one question that you keep thinking to yourself right now, like a constant loop in your head.

How could this happen to you?

A single step, it was just one wrong move and it left disasterous concequences.

It was all over in a matter of minutes, at least that's what you're thinking.

Nodody has even muttered the dreaded 3 letter word but your no fool to think it's anything but that.

"It's all over" Are the only words you can muster up the courage to say.

"Hey it's okay kiddo, it's gonna be okay. We've got you" Beth does her best to reassure you from where she's sat beside you, "Cry if you want too, let it all out. It's gonna be okay" she tells you.

Viv is right there beside you both as she holds your hand, "No matter what happens, we've got you, kleintje. You're so strong, you will get through this" she tells you gently.

Your quick to shake your head frantically in disagreement, "I can't... I can't do it. I can't be strong" You mumble, staring straight ahead at the stark white walls around you.

"You are, kiddo. I know you're scared but like what Viv said, we're going to be right here for you throughout it all, no matter what" The blonde keeps her words soft and gentle to try and keep more tears spilling down your cheeks.

"The olympics, it's over... It's all over" You mumble quietly; you feel numb to everything going on around you now, "My dream to go to the olympics is over now" You repeat in barely a whisper as the realisation sinks in.

"You don't know that just yet kleintje, we have to wait until the scans come first to confirm what injury it is" Viv says as she smiles at you weakily as she does her best to not worry you but it's no use when it's all you can think about.

Beth and Viv both take a minute to look at the medics' team that are working on you for any sort of words right now some kind of explanation and although no words are spoken, the medics' are sure enough to understand the look as they soon begin to speak.

"There's no official confirmation yet until we get the scans to see the extent of the damage" One of the medics, possibly Rose begins to speak as you shift your head to look at her almost pleadingly.

"Please don't say it, please don't say it" You whimper quietly, you're not ready to hear anybody speak it aloud yet.

Rose gives you a sympathetic look before she continues to talk, "However, based on what we can tell, it does very much look like you've ruptured your anterior cruciate ligament" The moment them words are spoken and it's like your world has come crashing down around you.

So you do the only thing that you know how to do, which is cry.

You completely pour out your emotions right there in that very moment, not even caring how ugly your face may look right now.

None of this is fair in your opinion.

What'd you do so wrong to suffer something like this?

9 months being sidelined; Your dreams of the Olympics were completely crushed.

"Just remember, we're here for you" Beths' words cut like a knife as you swallow the harsh lump in the back of your throat.

You've never handled emotions well and right in this moment, you feel like you're draining under water with nobody to pull you up from it.

You really don't know what to do or even how to feel, so you do the one thing that you do know.

Push people away, its' the easier thing to do. You're practically a pro at it now.

With an injured knee, it hurts to move but you bite back the pain and turn your back to the 2 girls; You know it seems horrible to do that, but you just don't know how to handle it all right now.

"Where is she-- What happened?" Laura come bursting into the medical room as her eyes land on you as they soften, "Y/N/N, it's gonna be okay" she is another one to reassure you.

This time you can't help but scoff at the older girls words, "Is it? That's all I keep on hearing-- I've ruined my chance to play football, no more olympics... I've lost the dream" You can't help how venemous the words sound spilling from your mouth but it's the harsh reality of what is happening right now.

Sometimes feelings are hard to handle and being only young, you're about to take on a challenge that you're not even sure that you can handle.

"Y/N" Beth gasps in shock at the cold and harsh words that spill from your mouth.

You turn to look at the blonde with a somewhat blank expression, "What?" You question, carelessly that makes the older girl frown.

"Hey, I know you're upset but there's no need to be mean to Laura like that" Beth lightly scolds you, she knows that you're upset about this but that still doesn't make it okay to talk to anybody like you did.

"Why not? I'm so sick of everything saying and thinking that it'll be fine, when it's not gonna be!" You exclaim, its' the first time you've raised your voice to them in anger and although you regret it instantly, your current pent up anger takes over any upset feelings right now.

"Y/N" Viv looks at you with the same unimpressed expression that Beth does.

The dutch women goes to further speak but you're quick to interject.

"Can you all just go? Just leave me alone" You try to fight back the tears that are threatening to spill all over again, "I just... I just want to be alone" You repeat.

"Y/N--" Laura starts to speak.

"Please?" The pleading in your voice is something you ditest, it makes you sound weak and that's something you hate to show; Weakness.

If there's one thing you remember from your deadbeat father, it was that showing weakness makes you a coward, and you wasn't one of them.

"I just need to be alone right now, so just go" You feel horrible to demand for them to leave, you need them but you're just stubborn to admit it.

"Alright, alright. We will leave you to be alone and have some time to think kleintje" Viv squeezes your injured knee and smiles gently before she stands up from the chair she currently sat in, "Come on, lets' give Y/N some space" she tells them.

"Okay" Laura begrudingly agrees and nods, "See you in a bit, Y/N/N" she adds before she starts to head out the room.

"Come on Beth" Viv nudges her girlfriend.

Beth looks more hesistant to leave but knows it's probably better to do than have you blow up again, "O... Okay sure; We're right here for you when you need us, kiddo. Remember that, okay?" Reassuring you with a matching smile, she stands up from her chair and the two women head out the medic room.

You didn't bother to mutter any kind of response. You didn't even mean to block any of them out, they were your makeshift family and you know that they care about you so much; Each and every single one of them, but no matter how surrounded with love you are, you feel more alone than ever.

You didn't want to hear words of encourgament or reassure; You just want to be alone in your thoughts.

You were better to be left alone in your thoughts.

© scribblesofagoonerr

#woso x reader #arsenal x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #arsenal women x reader #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #woso fic #meadema x reader

[thebestofoneshots]

birthday girl | marauders x reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Ravenclaw Reader Word Count: 3.8 k Warnings: none Prompt: It's your birthday but you're sick. The boys are just total darlings and care for you no matter the risks, making sure you have a super happy speacial day regardless. Comfort Fic // Birthday fic Written for @kquil

Soooo… thanks to @kquil's 1k follower celebration we discovered our birthdays are super close together, and it made me so excited I had to ask when her birthday was exactly and then I knew and then I had this idea in my head. 

And gosh, Kquil, I absolutely love the way you write love, so I wanted to make a little something for you. Hope you’re having a fantastic day sweetie, even if you’re sick with that goddamned awful virus, it feels like shit, I know it does, so I thought, perhaps a little comfort fic could make you feel better. 

This is just a little gift I wanted to make, a token of appreciation for you always sharing your lovely fluffy fics (that honestly make my days brighter)  with us, hope you enjoy <3

You woke up with a headache, sighting as you shut your eyes close again, the brightness coming from the large castle windows causing you to wince. You had felt the signs, the sore throat, the mild headaches and stomach pain, you were well aware you were getting sick but you honestly hoped your body would hold at least after your special day to break down. 

Hopes be damned, it was your birthday and you felt like shit, actually, no, you felt like you had been run over by a truck, which was slightly worse. You took your wand out and cast a spell to muffle the sounds of the already waking castle, especially the sound of your roommates, whom you adored but were too loud for your sick mind to tolerate. You grabbed your pillow and placed it over your head, groaning from how uncomfortable and sore you felt, you’d hoped the pillow would at least muffle the sound a little, no such luck, since just minutes after Mal was popping her head through your curtains and looking at you with brows furrowed in concern. 

“You all right luv?” 

You shook your head in response finally lowering down the pillow from your face, “feel like shit,” you admitted. “Remember I mentioned my throat was feeling funny?” Mal nodded “Well, it looks like it finally decided to give in.” And it really did, it felt like sandpaper every time you said a word. 

“Hold up a sec,” she said and pulled her head out “Hey Sage, do you still have those lemon caught drops we made in potions last month?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Sweet!” she said, you heard her step away and the rest of the conversation was toned out by your charm, after less than a minute later, Mal popped her head back in, small cystal jar in her hands “There you go love,” she said with a smile “Happy Birthday!” 

You chuckled and took the jar from her hands, cranking it open and placing one of the yellow candies in your mouth “Thanks!” you said with a smile. 

From the other side, Sage popped her head “Happy birthday sweetheart,” she said with a smile. 

You smiled at the two girls, shaking your head as you continued to suck on the candy, it was nice to know you had them in your life. You then heard the door creak open and another girl poped her head next to Mal “Hey luv, Happy Birthday!” she said, and then waved her hand, a tower of pancakes with a candle on top appeared on the side of your bed, you sat up, smiling wildly, and completly ignoring the headache and soreness. 

“This is– Thank you girls…” you said, looking at them with a grateful smile, making room for them to sit on the bed.

“Only the best for our best girl,” Eryn said with a wink as she sat on the edge. 

“She’s feelin’ sick thought,” Sage added, with a small pout. 

“The cough drops–“ 

“–we’ve already given them to her,” interrupted Mal “How’s the throat?” 

“Much better,” you said honestly, the caught drops really were doing their magic “The headache and the soreness is still there, unfortunately.” 

Sage pouted now, looking at you with a bit of a frown as you munched on your pancakes “Eating will make you feel better. You can skip breakfast if you want.” 

“Oh no, she can’t,” Eryn said shaking her head. “There’s a certain someone waiting for her just outside. And he looked just about to pick up a fight with the eagle for not letting him in.” 

You opened your eyes in shock “Don’t tell me it’s…” 

“Yup,” Eryn said with a smile “he might bring the door down if you don’t actually get out.” 

You shook your head in disbelief but nodded “I better hurry then.”

“You sure luv?” Sage asked “We can tell him to screw off and come back when you’re feeling better.”

You shook your head “I’ll just pass by Pomfrey before class or something,” you said with a smile and the three girls nodded, they were already wearing their uniforms, blue ties shining over their crisp white shirt. 

“You done?” Mal asked, pointing at your plate, you nodded and she vanished it right after. You looked at her surprised “I’ve been practicing evanesco lately.” 

You nodded and made an O in between your thumb and finger to indicate it’d been a fantastic casting. She nodded excitedly in response and the three girls went back to their respective beds. You stood from your bed, taking a long deep breath as you felt the pain and soreness after moving just a little, and started to slowly put your uniform on. 

You struggled so much while attempting to tie the tie with your scrambled mind that you decided to leave it as is, and deal with it later, genuinely worried one of the boys would actually break the door down if you took too long. You grabbed your bag and lousily threw your books and some parchment inside before walking out of your room and towards the entrance of the common room. 

The door opened easily and the first thing you spotted was his bright red converses, tapping against the stone floor impatiently. He ran straight to you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, which you enjoyed as much as it made you squirm, the pain in your muscles being very present. He started to slather soft kisses over your face when you gently pushed him off you. He looked at you with concern, trying to search for what was going on in your eyes. 

“I’m sick,” you told him, still trying to move away from his grasp. 

“Don’t care,” he said pulling you into a hug again. You shook your head but hid your face on his chest either way 

“You’re gonna catch my cold.” 

“Will be worth it as long as I can hug my birthday girl,” he said, still hugging you “And kiss her,” he whispered sneakily. 

“James!” you whined, It was already hard enough to resist his charm without him actively trying to charm you. 

“What’s the plan today?” 

“Class, probably,” you said with a shrug and went back to look at your tie, attempting to tie it by yourself, only to groan and let it hang over your neck either way. 

James frowned “You have a headache, don’t you?” You nodded as you leaned into his chest, not bothering to answer. 

“And my whole body aches, I’m more sore than that one time we fell off the broom.” 

James winced, remembering how bad that time had been “Moony should have something to help, let’s go!” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him. 

“Where are we going?” You asked as you allowed him to pull you along. 

“Gryffindor common rooms,” he said as he sneaked the two of you behind a statue. 

“Your portrait’s not gonna let me in.” 

James stopped and turned to you, taking your tie in between his hands and gently pulling it off your shoulders, it slid right off easily. He placed it in his pocket and took off his own, placing it over your head and accommodating the neck of your shirt with ease. 

“The tie wasn’t the only…” you started, but he was already taking off his vest and putting it over your head. “But what about the…” With a swish of his wand, your robes turned wine red instead of blue. You started at the boy in disbelief “Could’ve just charmed my entire uniform instead…” 

He shrugged “Maybe, but you look too cute in my clothes, there was no chance I passed the opportunity up.” You smiled and shook your head at his antics, he placed his hand over yours again and started dragging the two of you through the passageways until you were just outside of his common room. You stood beside him with an awkward smile as he told the lady the password. You swore she threw you a look, but instead of saying anything she just smiled, as if she knew something that you didn’t, and allowed the two of you to come inside. 

You noticed some stares on James, but no one dared to say a thing as he pulled you along the stairs and towards his room, when he opened the door you spotted your two other boyfriends inside, Sirius was buttoning up his shirt and Remus was lacing up his boots. 

“Happy birthday dove,” he said when he spotted you, finishing the bow he was working on and walking towards you in three long strides, he placed a hand on the top of your head, letting it gently fall down as he brought your forehead to his lips “what brings you here?” 

“James,” you joked, you saw Sirius finish up his buttoning and he ran up to you, planting a kiss right on your lips, but you pushed him off with a worried expression and attempted to wipe his face with the sleeve of your hand. 

“What’s with her?” Sirius asked when he finally managed to get your arm off his face.

“Says she’s sick,” responded James.

“I AM sick!” you said “I had a cough drop in the morning, my head is dizzy and everything hurts. That’s why James brought me here.” 

“I should have something to lift your spirits,” Remus said thoughtfully as he moved towards his desk and started rummaging through his medicine cabinet.

Sirius pouted “Does that mean you won’t kiss me today?” 

“Well, I don’t want you to get sick too.” 

“But it’s your birthday,” he argued “You should get all the kisses in the world.” 

“Not at the expense of my boyfriends getting sick.” 

Remus came over again, handing you a small potion “Should help with the pain and headache,” he said as he handed it over to you. 

You took it in one go, “How long will it take for it to… oh.”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded with a smile “Pomfrey gave me the recipe for that time of the month, it’s great innit?” 

You nodded in response and Sirius inched closer “Does that mean I can kiss you now.” 

“Not because I don’t feel sick does it mean I’m not,” you scolded. 

“What if we take something to stop us from getting your cold?” 

“Is there such a potion?” James asked. 

“‘Course there is, isn’t there Moony?” Sirius said looking straight at the boy in question, who quickly deciphered Sirius’ intentions and nodded “Yeah, yeah… I’ve got some in my closet.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the boys, you knew of no such potion, but your head was a bit too cloudy to argue, and Remus was better at potions than you were anyway so you decided to trust them in this one. 

Remus grabbed a small potion and they divided it between the three. Sirius smiled and brought you close to his face “Wicked! Now do I get to slather you with kisses?” 

You looked at the boy, his curls falling beautifully at the side of his head, there was a slight blush on your cheeks as you nodded, but you weren’t quite sure if the blush was because of Sirius’ beautiful face, his adoring eyes, or because you were getting a fever, or perhaps all three. 

He leaned in and placed a kiss on your eye “Happy birthday love,” he said and pressed a kiss on your other eye “Happy birthday,” he said and then pressed another kiss, this time on your cheek “Happy birthday...” 

And he would’ve gone on, but James stopped him, removing the boy from your face, which earned him a glare “All right, that’s enough, you’re hogging her!” 

“We should get to class,” you said as you grabbed Remus’ wrist and brought it closer to your face to check the time on his watch. It was something you did rather often, and Remus enjoyed it a lot more than he let on. There was nothing like the soft touch of your hands over his wrist, over anywhere on his body, if he was honest. 

“Should we?” asked James as he placed a hand on your forehead “I don’t know sweetheart, it seems to me like you’re a bit too sick for class.” 

You looked at him in disbelief “Too sick for class but not too sick to kiss you?” 

“Hey I don’t make the rules,” he said raising his hand with a diverted smile “What do you think Pads? Does she look well enough for class?” 

The boy in question placed a hand on your cheek, and looked at you attentively “Now that you mention it Prongs,” he said slowly “Our lovely Kquill does look a bit pale, doesn’t she?” 

You took his hand off your face and turned to Remus, hoping he’d be the only sensible person left “Come on Rem, you know we have to go to class don’t you?” 

He tilted his head “How many classes have you missed this year Sweetheart?” 

“I…uh-“ 

“–She hasn’t missed any,” James said, very sure of his answer. 

“I have.” 

“Really? Which one?” 

“I… I missed History of Magic last month.” 

“And what else?” asked Sirius, stepping closer now.

You looked to the side “No-nothing else.” 

“Then, my love,” Remus started “I think it’s best if you stay and rest. You said it yourself, just because you don’t feel sick anymore it doesn’t mean you’re not.”

James smiled and placed his hand over your shoulders “There we go sweets, Doctor Moony’s orders. You’re stayin’” 

“What, you mean here?” 

Sirius nodded, and with a wave of his wand both his bed and Remus were next to each other, making a huge one, another wave and there was soft rock playing in the background.

You raised your eyebrows “There we go luv, we can chill and listen to some of your favourite tunes,” he said with a smile “Your mixtape’s on.” 

You still looked at the boy in disbelief, and then you heard a knock on their window. James frowned but approached it either way, an owl was waiting there, with a letter on its beak. James grabbed it and took a treat out of his pocket to feed the owl who hooted merrily before leaving, “It’s for you,” he said, walking towards you again. 

“For me?” You asked confused. 

“Yeah, go ahead, sit on the bed, you can read there more comfortably,” he added and held the letter between his hands as you tried to reach for it “Sit on the bed, I’ll bring it over,” he insisted. 

You rolled your eyes and did as told “May I have my letter now?” 

James nodded and handed it over, you looked at it and a smile grew on your face as you read the envelope “Oh! It’s from my brother!” you said as you unfolded it and started reading its contents. He was wishing you a very happy birthday, telling you how much he loved you but not to let it go to your head, and he also told you to kick Sirius in the balls if he kept trying funny things. 

“What’s with the hate?” the boy said as he read the letter from over your head. You laughed, your brother had been the one to leave you at the station that summer, and he had seen Sirius approach and hug you from behind. But then he’d also seen the boy dig his head into your neck and give you a whiff, long story short, he thought Sirius was weird and that you should stay away from him. Of course, he had no clue Sirius was an animagus, and a dog no less. 

You shrugged “He’s crazy let him be.” 

“I just hope he doesn’t actually kick me on the balls next time we meet.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic Puppy,” you told him as you ruffled his hair, he let his entire head fall over your lap then, looking at you contently. What a twat, you thought looking straight into his eyes and charming smile as you continued playing with his hair. Your brother had also left a couple of galleons on the letter, for you to buy yourself something next time you went to Hogmeade. Which is why you stopped playing with Sirius’ hair and left the letter on the table, the boy complaining just seconds afterwards. 

James and Remus joined the two on the bed eventually and chilled for a while, Remus took out a book and you asked him to read out loud for you to listen, and he did, he was reading Peter Pan, and the story put you in a surprisingly good mood, even if you were in that place between sleep an awake as his soft and yet deep voice gently soothed you to sleep. 

When you woke up the lights were off, you heard a couple of whispers coming from the door and you felt Sirius shift, you wondered how you’d ended up leaning on his chest but then you heard Remus whisper a spell and suddenly a bunch of candles had turned on and he and James were approaching you with the cake on his hands. You smiled, at their silly antics, the three of them started singing Happy Birthday.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear–“ they started. But the three of them said their own pet names to you which is why it turned into a completely uneven choir of “dove”, “Love of my life” and “Kquil”. Which obviously had you giggling. 

“Come on make a wish,” James said once the cake was close enough. 

You stared at him, taking a deep breath and leaning in to blow the candles, closing your eyes as you made your wish, more of this, you thought, more of them.

“Can we turn on the lights?” 

James shook his head “We certainly can’t.” 

“But I want to see the cake!” you said, “Where did you get it?” 

“James made it sweetheart,” Sirius informed “That’s why he doesn’t want you to see it.” 

You smiled at that and fetched your wand from the bed, using it to turn the light on and look at the cake, you smiled, they had used your favourite colour for the cover, and it was lopsided and uneven, with a “Happy Birthday Kquil” written with white on top. That was definitely Sirius’ handwriting, you could tell since it was the neatest part of the cake. You wonder how he could write it if you had been laying on his chest, but perhaps it was one of those mysteries you would never decipher. 

“I love it,” you said honestly, as you dipped your finger in the soft buttercream and threw it in your mouth “Did you put flavouring on it?” 

James smiled and nodded “It was Remus’s idea, to use extract of your favourite fruit.” 

You smiled at the three boys, “Now give it a bite!” Sirius said, still from behind. 

“What?” you asked in disbelief “Aren’t er gonna cut it?” 

“Nah, it’s just for us,” James said “We brought spoons and we’ll eat it straight from the plate.

“That’s ridiculous!” 

“It’s economic,” said Remus “less dishwashing.” 

You gasped “You don’t do the dishwashing, Remus! The elves do.” 

He shrugged “Yeah, less work for them, isn’t that better?” 

You scoffed but smiled, “Fine then, with spoons it is.” 

“But you still have to bite,” James insisted. 

“What for?” You asked him. 

“Cause it’s your birthday,” Sirius responded, “go ahead, give it a bite.” 

You rolled your eyes but finally leaned into the cake, close enough to give it a small bite, and then you felt a hand push your head into the cake, you sprang back out with a gasp completely surprised and feeling a little betrayed by the boys.

“What the hell was that?” 

“A tradition we read about in an old book,” James said with a shrug “They say is for good luck.” 

“Good luck my ass,” you said as you started to wipe the buttercream with your hands, until you an idea popped into your head, with your hands filled with the creamy thing and them looking at you diverted and completely unassuming, you extended your hands towards both Sirius and James’ faces, successfully slathering with the meringue. 

“How dare you?” James gasped with an amused expression. 

“I’m just sharing the luck,” you said with a shrug and a small, innocent-looking smile. 

Sirius was cleaning his face and hair, who’d also been the victim of the buttercream slathering, “Why is it that only me and James that got this mistreatment?” 

You shrugged “Something tells me it was your idea,” you said as you shrugged and grabbed some of the cream from your face and dipped it in your mouth. Remus took his wand, and with a short spell vanished all the cream from your faces. 

“Can we eat now?” he asked with a smile, handing everyone their own spoon. The cake might have been a little lacking on the decoration part, but the taste was so on point you asked James three times if he really had baked it himself. 

“He did! I saw him!” Sirius said, “He was carefully measuring the ingredients and all.” 

Maybe it’s the potioneer in him, you thought as you continued enjoying the cake, the rest of the night went on in fits of laughter and singing along to your favourite song, talking with the boys and in general just passing the time with them. It was absolutely lovely, even your sick birthday had been one of your best birthdays. 

Later that week you figured the boys had lied to you and that the “contagion prevention” potion didn’t actually exist. You smacked them playfully but took soup up to their room several times. You still had James’ tie, and the lady from the portrait seemed to always be willing to let you in.

“Go take care of your boys,” she told you one time with the same enigmatic smile as the one on your birthday.

A/N: Hope you like this little thing sweetheart, and I hope it makes you feel better, even if it’s just a lil wee bit. It sucks to be sick on your birthday, but I’m sure you’ll be back up in no time, enjoying time with friends and loved ones, lysm. 

PS. Sorry is there are any spelling mistakes, I really wanted to get this out and ready for you to read and I couldn’t spell check like usually…

#imagine #one shot #oneshot #james potter #james potter x you #james potter x reader #prongs x you #prongs #prongs x reader #the marauders era #the marauders x you #the marauders x y/n #the marauders fandom #marauders x reader #the marauders x reader #marauders smut #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #sirius black #moony #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #moony x reader #birthday fic

[aza-writes]

Morning Affirmations

Lip Gallagher x female!reader

Requested: no

Summary: Lip walks in on his girlfriend singing to the younger kids while she gets them ready for the day. Takes place in season 4 after Liam gets home from the hospital

Warnings: few curse words, mentions of drug use (Fiona in jail) but overall, it’s just tons of FLUFF

A/N: inspired by “I love my body” by @mothermoon on TikTok. Might rewrite something similar for dad!lip, lmk what you think. Got bored before lab and wrote this

The floorboards creaked under every step Lip took to get down to the kitchen. He wasn’t too concerned with anything too wrapped up in his mind until two sweet voices pull him out.

“I love my body from my…” 

“Head to my toes.” 

Liam’s voice was hard to hear, even in the quietness of the unusually empty Gallagher house. Everyone was already at school or wherever they ran off to today—leaving Lip home alone to take care of some things. 

Liam has only been home from the hospital for two days, leaving Lip and the rest of the family still scrambling without Fiona running the show. Lip had school off today, some random college holiday that didn’t make sense for a lot of people, but they took it anyway. 

Lip had been out of bed since 5 that morning, unsure if it was considered a late night or an early morning due to the fact he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours the night before. His mind was going a million miles an hour, mixed with him worrying himself sick about Liam and going to check on him every thirty minutes. Every time he would get up from his bed, y/n would sit up, too. Her concerned look was always dismissed with a quick “go back to sleep” or “I’ll be back soon” from Lip. The “soon” in question was around five to ten minutes of Lip just sitting in front of Liam’s bed, watching his chest rise and fall. 

Y/n stayed up and waited for Lip the first few times, but soon enough her eyes got too heavy for her to ignore. Even with the extra sleep, caffeine would be her best friend today. 

Lip’s mind was still groggy as he trudged down the stairs, stress and sleep deprivation felt like chains were strapped to the back of his ankles. He barely made out the words y/n and Liam were exchanging. 

“I love my face…” She lingered for a second, allowing Liam to think about the next verse. She smiles and continued on. “My-” 

“Eyes, my mouth my nose.” Lip could help but smile at the sight of Liam touching every body part mentioned. He clearly knew this song, yet Lip couldn’t think of any of the words. When ever you would sing it to one of his younger siblings, all he could do was hear your voice. The kindergarten-teacher-like tone was enough for him to abandon all of his thoughts and focus on you. 

“I like the way I look when I look in the mirror.” Liam didn’t have to wait for y/n this time, he sang it with her. Their voices both were quiet, almost scared to wake anyone up, but the house stayed quiet. It was just those three in that house, the outside world didn’t matter. 

“I stand a little closer just to see a little clearer.” Both of their smiles were beaming. Liam giggling at y/n’s little tickles all over his belly and neck. Lip’s grew too. Y/n was so amazing with the kids, Lip could’ve sworn it as always been this way. Y/n and Lip, Lip and y/n. They belonged together. 

Everyone in his family loved her. Carl made her a gift out of melted spoons and forks, Debbie demands they have a girls day at least once a month. Shit, even Frank called her “one of the good ones.” Technically it was after she downed a shot of vodka without even wincing, but he still liked her non the less. 

Y/n turns around smiling, it only growing when she finally sees Lip. 

“Good morning babe.” 

“Morning babe!” Liam repeats immediatly, causing Lip and y/n to giggle with him. 

Lip pours two cups of coffe before heading to the kitchen table. “Good morning to you.” He sets the coffe right in front of y/n while kissing her cheek. He carefully set his down too and kissed Liams cheek. “Good morning little man.” 

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip x reader #shameless us #phillip gallagher #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher fic #lip gallagher blurb

[i9messi]

Hi love ❤💃 could you maybe write something with charles leclerc x girlfriend reader, maybe shes a actor and does a movie with harry styles maybe like don't worry darling and charles is jelous because every where are scenes of them kissing and having ,,sex" from the movie

Acting — Charles Leclerc

Word count: 720

a/n: fluff

charles' masterlist

"Charles, baby, are you alright?"

You and your boyfriend had just arrived from the premiere of your new movie. Charles had been there to hold your trembling hands, to remind you that you were doing great, and also to bring you calm in all that commotion. It was your first starring role, a very important moment for your acting career and you didn’t want to ruin it.

Everything had gone very well, you had posed for the cameras and then in the cinema room you had sat next to your other co-workers and of course, next to your boyfriend. The film was applauded and you were happy with the result of your performance. It was a film that you had put a lot of time and effort into, and now that the movie had come out, you were proud of your work.

However, your boyfriend has been acting a little weird since he finished watching the movie. At first, he kept smiling, but once you finished watching the film, Charles had driven home quietly. Something was wrong, you could tell by the way his brow was furrowed and he didn’t say anything. Now that you were in the comfort of your home, your boyfriend went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

You took off the heels that hurt your feet and waited for his answer. Charles finally spoke.

"Did you have to kiss so much?"

"Excuse me?"

"You and that guy. In every scene you were practically doing it, well, in a lot of scenes you were doing it."

You finally understood what was happening to him. Some scenes had been quite intimate between you and your co-star, that was true, but everything was fake and for the sake of the movie.

"It’s called acting. It wasn’t real, Charles."

"It seemed quite real to me."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

Your boyfriend was a bad liar. You looked at him for a moment, his face showing how much he had bothered to see you kiss another man. He was serious, just like when during a bad race. It was a face you knew a lot, because whenever things went wrong, he would come to your side to find comfort.

"No way.... You’re actually jealous."

"Maybe I am a little bit jealous. But who wouldn’t be? You were kissing him!"

"Nothing was real, is just my job, Charles. It’s a movie, I’ve acted before and I can swear I never developed any feelings for my other teammates."

Even the scenes of sexual intercourse had been completely taken care of, you and your co-star had shared nothing but fake kisses. Charles remained upset about what had happened and you had the amazing idea to start laughing. It was funny because he didn’t have a real reason to be jealous, you couldn't care less about the other actor, not at least in the way he was concerned about.

"What are you laughing at? I don’t see anything funny..."

"You’re cute."

You narrowed the distance between you and him and decided to kiss your boyfriend. Charles seemed a little calmer once your lips came together, maybe all the questions and doubts disappeared once he knew you were there with him. The kiss you shared was true, his lips made you tremble and feel something in your heart. However, the kisses in the film had no meaning, you had felt nothing. You were in love with him.

"I love you, Charles. I choose you, I always choose you. It was just a movie and I was just acting, you don’t have to be jealous of anyone because I’m yours."

Charles finally opened his eyes and looked at you through his eyelashes.

"You’re mine?"

"Yes, I’m yours."

"Good."

This time, he kissed you. His lips joined in a warm kiss and his hands approached your face and your hair, in a desperate grip to draw you even closer to him. His hands then went down to your waist, leaving soft caresses on your skin, above your dress. You took your time to be able to breathe again, Charles had a unique way of making you feel loved.

"Sorry for everything. I just didn't like that too much, alright?"

"It's fine, love."

"I love you."

"And I love you."

"Kiss me again."

"But- mmph"

#charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #leclerc #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x you #f1 #f1 fandom #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc x you

[fayes-fics]

Refuge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (throuple)

Summary: Fluff fic. The boys tend to you when you are sick.

Warnings: none... this is just sick/comfort and fluff.

Word Count: 1.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill (see HERE) requesting a fluffy comfort fic with the Bridgerton brothers. This isn't set in the Lessons-verse, but is a similar set-up, where the reader is in an established throuple with A & B and lives with them at Aubrey Hall. Nonny, I hope this fits your wishes. Enjoy! <3

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice.

That's the thought preoccupying your melancholic mind as you sit in bed, propped against a mass of pillows, staring out the window across the sun-drenched fields of Aubrey Hall. Wishing you could be outside, enjoying the sun's rays on your skin. Instead, you are stuck inside, boredom reaching new heights as you contemplate restarting a book for the third time. 

For the past two days, a stomach complaint has left you feeling weak and without an appetite, but also frustratingly unable to sleep, seemingly worse at night. Also, you never sleep well when separated from your loves—it is all a recipe for a maudlin mood. The doctor does not think it is contagious but recommended bed rest and a foul-tasting tincture you must drink twice daily. The Bridgerton boys are coming back from business in London today, and usually, that would signify a wondrous, sensual reunion, but your traitorous body has decided otherwise.

Just as you are sullenly picking up the book you completed that morning, there is a soft knock at your door.

“Come in,” you call, defeated, expecting it to be someone bringing you more disgusting medicine.

“Darling, we are home! My valet informs me you are sick. Why did you not send word to London? We could have cut short our business,” Anthony’s worried tone seems to inhabit his whole frame as he strides in and makes a beeline for you.

“Are you alright?” Benedict adds, appearing behind him, his face also a picture of concern, rounding the other side of the bed.

The wondrous sight of them tips you over the edge. A bloom of pleasure mixed with frustration that your reunion cannot be in the manner you would like. It breaks the dam of emotions you have been keeping at bay, all bubbling over into tears. 

“Oh my love, no, please do not cry!” Benedict implores and softly takes a seat on the edge of the bed, taking your hand.

Anthony hovers, worry etched into his face but seemingly unsure what to do. Benedict frowns at him and signals for him to sit on the bed, which he does after a pause, taking your other hand.

“I've missed you both so very much,” you snuffle between tears, your gaze pinging between them. “I am just so sorry to disappoint you - I am not in a fit state to celebrate as we usually would,” you offer quietly, feeling guilty and biting your lip.

“You could never disappoint us,” Anthony avows sincerely, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“We have missed you too, my love,” Benedict strokes your cheek delicately with his free hand, swiping a tear that falls with his thumb. “But please, you are obviously sick; we only care about you getting better.”

“Yes,” Anthony nods brusquely, “what can we do to alleviate your suffering? Open a window? Or is the room too cold? Perhaps a fire? Do you need more pillows? Or less? Perhaps some more tea?”

A glow behind your ribs flares at their loving concern in their unique ways—Anthony trying to solve the problem, Benedict offering sympathy. It is just so them.

“I would perhaps enjoy new reading material,” you confess quietly. “I have read all the books here in this room at least twice over now,” you admit sheepishly.

“I will have the staff move my entire library up here this afternoon,” Anthony declares solemnly, a hand over his heart.

“No, no, please, just a few books will be more than fine,” you assure with a feeble giggle, more tears welling at his outsized gesture.

“I think what she most needs from us, brother, is us,” Benedict assesses, lowering himself to buss a kiss on your forehead—always the one to intuit your emotional needs more than you can yourself.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, almost ashamed of your yearning to just be held by them, your weakened state making you feel fragile and in need of strong arms holding you close.

Anthony instantly pulls at his boots and then swings himself around until he can lie next to you. “Of course, how did I not see that?” he chastises himself, his lips running a soothing line over your right temple.

Benedict also takes off his boots and does the same, and a feeling like warmed honey spreads behind your ribs as they each wrap an arm around your middle, snuggling into your neck and face. 

“Thank you so much,” you murmur, your tears drying with their comforting presence.

“No more tears now,” Anthony lectures, but with a gentle sweetness that is him willing you to feel contentment. “We are here to do everything in our power to ensure you are all better soon.”

“Indeed,” Benedict confirms.

“Could you possibly get under the covers with me?” your ask is timid.

“Oh, of course!” both exclaim and stand up just long enough to shuck their jackets and waistcoats, pull back the bedding and slide in next to you. The heat of their bodies is an instant balm, seeping through their shirts through the thin cotton of your nightgown.

“Darling, your body is cold!” Anthony exclaims anxiously as his hand slides over your belly.

“I have not been able to keep food down, so I am always cold,” you admit. “All I can handle is weak, cooled tea.”

“My poor love,” Benedict sighs into your hairline. He runs gentle kisses over your cheek. “Then we will just have to stay here and keep you warm now, won't we?” 

“That would be truly wonderful,” you sigh, closing your eyes, feeling a bone-deep relief to be back in their joint, loving embrace. Something feels missing when they must both be gone. One is bearable; both being gone makes you ache for them. “Thank you, my loves,” you murmur as you feel the pull of sleep finally taking you.

The boys share a knowing silent glance - all other things they may have to attend to can wait; paramount is you and your recovery - before settling into the pillows next to you. Their legs entwining with yours, their arms holding you, their solid bodies bracketing yours. 

You sleep peacefully for the first time in days and awaken around dawn to beautiful birdsong, surrounded by Anthony and Benedict, their breath skittering over your skin in repose. During the night, your hands have ended up laced together. You feel warm for the first time this week, and your stomach rumbles, the urge to eat raring for the first time in days. It feels like you have turned a corner, although your desire to leave the bed is close to zero, snuggling down into them both - your wonderful boys.

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice indeed.

Both Anthony & Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride! Could you do more of the fem mxy!wwx identity porn? I hope you have a great day 🌻

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Jiang Yanli sees the Lan party approaching and cant help the spike of anxiety that shoots through her.

First is Lan Xichen and A-Yao, who greet Madame Jin and Jin Guangshan formally and respectfully, without a hint of resentment for what they've put them through, for allowing them to arrange this alliance only to yank the promised marriage out from under them.

She knows better than to think there isn't any, but their serene expressions give nothing away. Lan Xichen's amiable mask hides a warm, peaceable center. A-Yao's hides a bitterness and cleverness so great that to this day she thinks it a tragedy that A-Yao hadn't grown up among the Yu.

They make look similar on the surface, but Lan Xichen and A-Yao’s relationship is proof that opposites really do attract.

A-Yao says something that causes Madame Jin’s face to tighten. Then they’re stepping back and Lan Wangji is stepping forward, but he’s not the one she cares about.

Xuanyu stands by his side, back straight and eyes forward, seemingly comfortable and at ease with Lan Wangji in a way that few people manage. Her expression when she faces her father is strained, but she stands close enough to Lan Wangji that their sleeves threaten to tangle together, so she assumes that strain is all that to Jin Guangshan and not Xuanyu’s husband.

“I told you she’s be fine,” Zixuan murmurs.

She wishes they were somewhere less public where she could get away with elbowing him in the ribs or at least stepping on his foot.

“Yanli-jie!” Xuanyu is waving at her, bounding forward without a thought to propriety. Both Lan Wangji and A-Yao are exasperated while Lan Xichen just seems outright fond, which is even more a balm to her worry than Xuanyu’s hopefully good relationship with her husband. A sect leader’s affection is nothing to sniff at, and even if Lan Wangji has little use for his bride, he would not upset his brother by treating someone he’s fond of callously.

“Meimei,” she returns and watches Xuanyu’s grins stretch to almost painful levels as the young woman reaches out to grab her hands. Xuanyu had felt so cold to the touch before, but now her hands are warm, and with several new callouses. She looks stronger too, thicker around the waist and the flesh of her cheeks, and it’s a relief to see her strengthened in both body and spirit.

Her grin eases and she becomes subdued as she inclines her head to Zixuan. “Jin Zixuan.”

He returns it, eyeing her speculatively, but it’s not a surprise. Jiang Yanli’s not sure if the two of them have ever had a real conversation.

“I brought some extra guests,” Xuanyu says. “Sorry.”

She gestures behind her and Jiang Yanli follows her hand and then blinks rabidly, but the vision in front of her doesn’t change. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen stand there, along with a blind girl that she doesn’t remember seeing before. “It’s not a problem, Meimei. You’ll have to tell me that story of how they came to join you.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, looking down at Xuanyu who pointedly ignores his gaze. That makes Jiang Yanli nervous, but it doesn’t seem to be tinged with any true animosity. She’s more than familiar what that looks like on Lan Wangji.

“It was uh – recent. So recent that I’m in need of a proper bath and a new set of robes, actually.” She leans in to whisper, loudly enough that they can all hear her just fine, “I switched out my over robe for something less damaged and bloodstained.”

Lan Wangji sighs deeply. Xuanyu rolls her eyes, which seems like a good sign.

“Oh dear,” Jiang Yanli says, affecting wide eyes and a gentle concern that’s only a little fake. For a moment, a smirk steals across Xuanyu’s face before she smooths it out again, which nearly distracts Jiang Yanli from her play here. Not even A-Yao had picked up on her act the first time she used to it. “That sounds so harrowing and awful. Please, let me escort you to my rooms – you can use my bath and I can help you with your hair. We are sisters, after all.”

“Of course, Yanli-jie,” she says, eyes bright with humor. It’s refreshing to do this with someone who’s in on the joke from the beginning and isn’t A-Cheng. “That’s so kind of you, how can I possibly refuse?”

Both of their husbands look put out as they walk away together, arm in arm. Maybe this will finally give Zixuan and Lan Wangji something to talk about.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #untamed