Ness

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[readingbookelf]

Getting frustrated with all these spoilers for the off campus series. Give a girl time to read the books.

I hate it when they steal the shock out of a shocking scene.

[readingbookelf]

So my job is killing me.

What’s new with you?

[readingbookelf]

I need some comfort.

[readingbookelf]

Trigger warning

baby.

i’m slipping.

i ache for that first cut.

it’s been seven years.

i’ll try to hold on.

[readingbookelf]

Childhood Fear - Angus MacGyver

Summary: Rewrite for Thunderstorm because it was terrible.

Pairing: fem!reader x Angus MacGyver

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You’ve been living with Mac for two years now, and you’ve faced your fair share of thunderstorms together. The key to making it through them was Mac, the fact that you weren’t alone. 

Oh, how you missed your boyfriend. 

You grab your phone looking for Mac’s number. You know he’s on a case, but a quick check-in won’t hurt. He’s always telling you to call him when you need him. But calling because of a thunderstorm…seems a bit silly. Before you can make up your mind, Mac's face lights up your screen. 

You immediately pick up. “Mac,” you say in a small voice.

“Hi, baby. I’m just calling to let you know I’m almost home,” he answers. 

You flinch and whimper when the next boom sounds. Mac silently curses and you use it to distract yourself. 

“That curse wasn’t as silent as you might’ve hoped,” you chuckle, but it falls flat. 

“I was hoping to be home before the storm hit, so you wouldn’t have to face it by yourself,” Mac tells you honestly. 

“Mac, there will be times when I have to deal with this irrational fear all by myself,” you reply. 

“I’m here,” is all he says. 

You run toward the front door, opening it to reveal Mac running towards you, drenched within mere seconds. 

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips before hastily moving towards the bathroom. 

“Join me in the bathroom while I take a quick shower,” he calls to you. 

You catch up and entwine your fingers, holding on until he steps into the shower. You sit on the toilet seat and talk the whole time. 

Once Mac’s finished, he entwines your fingers once more and leads you towards the couch. A blanket settles over your shoulders before Mac pulls you close. 

“Another 20 minutes and it should be over,” he whispers into the night. 

“I wish I could get rid of this fear. It’s not like it’s going to strike me while I’m safe and sound inside,” you say, irritation clear in your voice. 

“Everyone has irrational fears. At least yours gives me an excuse to hold you close,” Mac replies while giving you a tight squeeze. 

You wait out the rest of the storm in Mac’s arms, talking about everything and nothing. Even though it means being terrified, you wouldn’t trade this for the world. Mac being your safe space is the best thing that could’ve happened to you.

Taglist: @raajali3 @202rosbudd @esposadomd @emy-flaces @legendary1sblog @ceruleanrainblues @Arlostefan @maria-moll @mazikeensmith1981

[benzene-babe]

“This is why I wear sneakers”

Pairing: Peter Sutherland x reader

Synopsis: You’re an FBI agent alongside Peter. You decide to change up your style one day. Peter notices immediately, but you refuse to tell him why.

Warnings: Running barefoot, girls being mean, talks of gender

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"You look... different," Peter said, his eyes lingering on your freshly polished heels as you sailed into the office.

You glanced down at the black stilettos and shrugged nonchalantly, hoping the blush didn't betray you. "Just felt like switching it up," you replied, your voice a tad too breezy.

The room was the same as always, the fluorescent lights humming their endless tune, the scent of stale coffee wafting from the break room, and the ever-present murmur of agents discussing the latest intel. Yet today, it felt like the walls were closing in on you, as if the very air was charged with an unspoken tension that even the most seasoned agent couldn't ignore.

"New mission?" Peter asked, his gaze lingering on your outfit—the stark contrast to your usual tennis shoes and fitted khaki pants.

"No, just... I don't know," you said, shifting in your chair. The leather creaked under your weight, a sound that seemed amplified in the quiet tension.

"You okay?" Peter's voice was gentle, genuine concern etched into every syllable.

"Yeah," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, studying you with those sharp eyes that had seen more than their fair share of the world's darkest secrets. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that, of all people, Peter Sutherland—your best friend, your partner, your confidant—deserved honesty. But you couldn't bring yourself to admit the real reason behind the heels.

"It's nothing," you assured him, the lie sticking to the roof of your mouth like a piece of gum you hadn't had the courage to spit out.

The room felt suddenly too hot, too small. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, the fabric whispering against your skin. The silence stretched out between you, a tightrope threatening to snap under the weight of all the things left unsaid.

"Let's grab lunch," Peter suggested, breaking the tension. "Maybe some fresh air will do you good."

You nodded gratefully, eager for a change of scene. As you stepped out of the office, the cool breeze kissed your skin, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere. The sun was shining, the world outside seemingly oblivious to the turmoil within the four walls you'd just left. You followed Peter's lead, the clack of your heels echoing off the pavement as you made your way down the busy street.

And then it happened. A code blue alert blared through your earpiece. A high-value target had been spotted nearby. Peter's eyes met yours, and without a word, you both sprang into action. You chased the suspect, the sound of his footsteps pounding like a drum in your ears. But the heels—oh, the heels. They were a liability, a hindrance to your usual grace and speed.

With a growl of frustration, you kicked them off, the pavement biting at your feet as you sprinted barefoot after the criminal. The world around you blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, your only focus the man in the navy windbreaker weaving through the lunchtime crowd.

You and Peter caught the guy in a deserted alley, the smell of garbage and despair thick in the air. You tackled him to the ground, your bare feet skidding on the gritty concrete. The adrenaline rushing through you dulled the pain of the impact. Peter was right behind you, breathing heavily, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As the cuffs clicked shut around the criminal's wrists, you couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you. You looked up at Peter, your cheeks flushed and your hair a wild mess. "This is why I wear sneakers," you gasped.

Peter chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, you looked pretty badass barefoot," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. The tension of the morning melted away like snow in the sun. For a moment, it was just the two of you, partners in the chaos of the job you both loved.

"Come on," Peter said, helping you to your feet. "Let's get back to the office and get you some shoes before the next crisis hits."

You nodded, the weight of the unspoken conversation from earlier lifting just a bit. Maybe today was going to be okay after all.

"So, the heels?" Peter prompted as you walked back to the office, the echo of your barefoot sprint fading behind you.

You sighed, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving you feeling vulnerable. "Some of the women at the office," you began, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "They said I should dress more like a... well, more like a girl."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? Why?"

"They said I look like one of the guys," you mumbled, looking down at the discarded heels in your hand. "I just wanted to prove them wrong."

"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," Peter said firmly. "You're an amazing agent, and you look great in whatever you wear."

You glanced at him, a hint of a smile playing on your lips despite the sting of the earlier encounter. "Thanks, Peter."

When you arrived back at the office, the other agents looked up from their screens, surprise and a touch of envy in their eyes. You could see the whispers start, the glances thrown your way. But with Peter by your side, you felt invincible.

You made your way to your desk, the cold air conditioning kissing the sweat on your brow. You dropped the heels into your drawer with a clunk, vowing never to wear them on a mission again. Peter leaned over, his hand on your shoulder, his eyes full of understanding.

"You know I've always liked you just the way you are, right?" he said softly. "You don't have to change for anyone."

You swallowed hard, nodding. "I know."

With a wink and a smirk that made your stomach flip, Peter announced loudly to the room, "I think your tennis shoes look hotter anyway." The office fell silent, all eyes on you. A few agents chuckled, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

But instead of the embarrassment you expected, a strange warmth spread through your chest. It was Peter's way of saying he liked you for you, that he didn't care about the heels or the dress code or what anyone else thought. It was Peter being Peter—supportive, protective, and utterly charming.

Author’s note: please let me know if I should keep writing these!! I’m always looking for feedback :)

[readingbookelf]

Amazing! 🥰

[readingbookelf]

Too Close to Death - Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

Summary: The aftermath of Wesley getting his throat slashed.

Pairing: fem!reader x Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

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Watching Wesley recover from having his throat slashed was brutal. The fact that he’d come this close to death…it was painful to think about. He’s your rock in your life and you’re not sure you could survive without him. What makes it even worse is that people he’d considered his family completely dropped him. Not one of them knows what happened that night. Not one of them bothered to ask. 

Otherwise they would know he almost died trying to protect Angel and his son. They would know he wasn’t working with Holtz. They would know he tried to debunk the prophecy for months. But when he couldn’t and the first signs of the prophecy showed themselves, he made the split decision to run away with Connor. Because if he wasn’t near Angel, then Angel couldn’t kill him. 

_____

“Finally home,” you whisper as you walk through your apartment door with Wesley. 

“Finally,” he whispers lightly, still getting used to using his voice again. 

He kisses the side of your head before moving towards the couch. You sit down next to him and intertwine your fingers. 

“Don’t you dare get that close to death ever again. Only when we’re old and wrinkled. And even then…I want to go first, because I don’t think I can go through life without you,” your voice breaks near the end. 

Wesley lets go of your hand and takes you into his arms. And he squeezes…hard. 

“It was just as scary for me, love. Not once had I imagined our story ending so soon,” he replies. 

You snuggle closer, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I love you, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,” you whisper. 

“And I love you.”

Your lips find his in a chaste but meaningful kiss. 

You remove yourself from the embrace and get the kit the hospital sent you home with to take care of his neck. 

When you take a seat on the small table in front of him you say: “Please remember how much I love you while I dab the antiseptic on your wound.”

He chuckles and smiles softly. 

With the greatest care, you dab the wound and wait for it to dry. Water fills your eyes. God, he was so lucky. You’re lucky to still have him. He squeezes your knee in comfort. Even now, he’s putting someone else’s needs before his own. He’s practically lost his family, nearly died, and here he is, comforting you. 

“I’m sorry they won’t get their heads out of their asses,” you whisper, cautious about broaching the subject. 

Wesley sighs. “I thought they knew who I was.”

You squeeze his shoulder before cleaning up the medical supplies. 

Wesley clears his throat, a sign he wants to say something that makes him uncomfortable. 

“Actually can we not broach that subject yet? I want to ignore what happened for a bit longer.”

“Of course, Wesley. And I’ve got the most perfect welcome-home evening planned to take your mind off things,” you reply while reclaiming your seat.

[readingbookelf]

You know you’re spiralling when you need to journal every day and even that isn’t enough to quiet your mind.

[readingbookelf]

Hate the episode with Kate Joyner

[readingbookelf]

Peter always opening Rose’s door for her 🥰

[readingbookelf]

Conundrum of Fear – Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

Summary: You worry about Wesley whenever he goes with Angel to fight a demon. This time it leads to a confession of your feelings.

Pairing: fem!reader x Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

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You’d met Wesley when he started working at Angel Investigations. You had already worked with Angel a couple of times, working on the more human side of his investigations, staying clear of the demonside. It seems stupid now, to not educate yourself on the demons. But the dark side of Angel Investigations frightened you, until Wesley came along. 

There was a shift in the operation. You’d still do the more human part of the business, but Wesley often asked you to help him with research. Late nights turned into early mornings. And all of that time spent together led to something more. You both knew it, but didn’t dare confess their feelings. Until one night when Angel and Wesley come back from tracking a demon, hurt and bruised. 

Angel immediately retires to his room, so you help Wesley take care of his wounds. 

“Why do you insist on going with him, Wesley? He has Gunn to help him out,” you say desperately.

“There was no time to wait for Gunn and you know it. Besides, you know this is part of the job,” Wesley replies.

“It’s not. I’ve been working with Angel for years and not once did I go hunt a demon with him.”

Wesley furrows his brows before he asks: “Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

“Because you’re hurt! Again! You’re human, Wesley. Your life can end in an instant and maybe I like you too much to watch you die,” you practically shout.

“You like me,” Wesley asks, puzzled.

“Yes, I do and I’m not brave, Wesley. You fight god knows what with the possibility of death. It scares me to death. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to give you my heart because I would be beside myself if I ever lost you,” you confess with a heavy heart. 

Wesley’s eyes soften as he steps closer. He takes your hands and squeezes them. 

“Love, most of my days are spent researching and telling Angel how to kill the demons. You know it is rare for me to venture out and to hunt down the demon. It will happen, sometimes, that is inevitable. But now I have someone to come home to and that, my love, is my greatest weapon in every battle,” Wesley comforts you. 

“Why is that your greatest weapon,” you mumble. 

“Because I will do everything in my power to come home to you,” he assures you. 

“I lied when I said I couldn’t give you my heart. You already have it,” you confess. 

Wesley takes you in his arms and hugs you tight. 

“Good thing you own mine as well,” he whispers.

[readingbookelf]

I start my first big girl job on Monday and I’m so anxious. I don’t know what to do about my thoughts and anxiety.

[readingbookelf]

So Salvatore house is in Elena’s name, but Rebekah can just walk inside without being invited in?

Can someone explain?

[readingbookelf]

Only on season 3 of my rewatch and I can’t believe how many times Caroline has been abducted and tortured. My god she really suffered

[readingbookelf]

“Once again I wonder if the man who raised me left a scar so deep that, as an adult, I can’t accept genuine affection.”

- Brett Bohlinger

[readingbookelf]

Birthdays are hard.