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illdowhatiwantthanks · 4 months ago

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Not really a request, at least not a super detailed one but, anything with Rosa Diaz x autistic reader would be amazing!!

Maybe R drops off some lunch or something for rosa and meets the rest of the squad or smth?

In general i am in love with your autistic!reader fics. Im currently in the process of being diagnosed with autism, and its just really rather comforting to see myself in a reader insert

-Ara

Hey, Ara! 🥰 So glad you enjoy the autistic!reader fics! They are some of my favorites to write. I was just diagnosed about a year ago, so it's still new-ish for me, but I also find a lot of comfort in the autistic reader inserts. Hope this is what you're looking for, and best of luck with your diagnosis process! Feel free to reach out if you need a fellow autistic pal to talk through stuff with! 💕 –illdowhatiwantthanks

A Little Lunch

Rosa Diaz x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, overstimulation (the autism kind), established relationship (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: People aren't your forte, but you told your girlfriend you'd have lunch with her at the precinct, and so you will. And it goes... surprisingly better than expected.

You took a few deep breaths outside the precinct door, sandwiches from Rosa’s favorite shop in hand. You’d never visited her at work before, never met her coworkers. People weren’t your strong suit. But Rosa had asked you. She didn’t ask you for much. She liked to keep her work life separate from her personal life, for the most part. And the fact that she wanted you to meet her squad? Well, you couldn’t let her down. You wouldn’t.

The overhead lights were bright, and the general office noise was overwhelming when you stepped inside. You lurked in a corner, trying to acclimate yourself, trying to survey the room and find Rosa and calm yourself down so you could have a nice, normal lunch with your girlfriend.

You jumped a bit as a woman in a rolling chair slid in front of you, hands pressed together over her waist.

“Is that my Panera?” she said, staring at the bag in your hands.

“Uh… no.”

The woman stared at you for a moment, and you shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze and felt the need to provide a reason for your presence.

“I’m, uh… I’m here to see Rosa. Diaz. She's a detective. Do you know where she is?”

The woman’s face lit up. “Ohhhh… interesting. Did she order Panera, too? Great minds.” She held out your hand for you to shake, so you did. “Gina Linetti,” she told you. “Dancer, secretary, genius.”

“Gina, stop tormenting my girlfriend!”

You’d know that voice anywhere. You visibly relaxed as Rosa walked into the squad room, placing a strong, protective hand at the small of your back.

Gina held up her hands, as if in defense. “Sorry, Rosa. I thought she was Panera.”

“She’s not Panera,” Rosa growled. “She’s my girlfriend, and we’re eating lunch, and you’re leaving us alone.”

Rosa took your hand and led you through the precinct, into a break room scattered with tables where, alone and away from prying eyes, she planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded and held up the bag of food. Rosa gestured toward the table and went to grab napkins and, for neither the first nor the last time, you were grateful that you often didn’t need words with Rosa. You were comfortable in one another’s silence and, for you, this was life-changing. Your words were one of the first things to go when you got overstimulated, but Rosa never seemed to mind. For this, and for many other reasons, you loved her.

But you’d barely started on your lunch before people started trickling into the break room: Jake, Amy, Charles. All ostensibly eating lunch, too, even if they’d already taken lunch, even if all they had was a bag of chips from the vending machine, as Jake did.

“So, Y/N,” Amy started. “How did you and Rosa meet?”

Rosa jumped in before you forced yourself to say anything. “Hey,” she spat at the group crowding the table next to yours. “When I told Y/N she could meet me for lunch, I meant me. Not me and half the squad. Scram, losers.”

You gave a little half wave as they slunk out of the room, smiling a little as Charles mouthed off to you behind Rosa’s back: “We’ll catch up later!”

“Sorry,” Rosa said a few minutes later. “I know they can be a bit much.”

You shook your head and squeezed her hand, able to find your voice again. “It’s okay. They seem nice.”

“If by nice, you mean fucking crazy, then yes.”

A knock on the doorframe. At first, Rosa seemed annoyed by the interruption, but when she saw that it was Captain Holt she looked almost… proud?

“Captain,” she said, rising from her seat and nodding at him. She gestured toward you. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Captain Holt.”

You moved to stand and shake his hand, but Holt stopped you. “Oh, no, please.” He sat down next to you, and Rosa seemed comfortable with him, so you decided that Captain Holt was someone you would like. “It’s lovely to meet you,” he said.

“You too,” you replied, trying not to let your voice shake too much. You tried to think of something to say, tried to think of a topic of conversation, but you were floundering. Your voice was hard for you on a regular day, even sometimes with people you loved, like Rosa. You just couldn’t manage to force anything out. You felt your cheeks growing red. You hoped you weren’t embarrassing Rosa.

You couldn’t have said all this to Rosa even if you’d wanted to, but Rosa always seemed to get it anyway.

“Y/N, Captain Holt and his husband are going to the symphony tonight. I told him that was one of your favorites, too.”

You lit up. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Rosa, you thought. You loved the symphony. She was right; it was one of your favorites. Despite Rosa’s general indifference toward classical music, she’d gotten you both season passes for your birthday. She didn’t love the music, but she loved the way your eyes shone when you listened, the way you perched on the edge of your seat like a child. She loved that when she held your hand during the performances, she could tell when you were particularly moved because you’d get goosebumps and the hair on your skin would stand up.

“Oh, it’s John William Weischselbraun tonight, right? Bach’s Oboe Sonata? That should be excellent!”

Holt looked about as excited as Rosa had ever seen him.

“You’re a fan of the oboe, are you?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, yes, sir.” You nodded enthusiastically. “I played oboe in my high school orchestra. It’s a severely underrated instrument.”

Rosa beamed at you as Holt reached out to shake your hand. “Diaz....” he said, shaking a finger at her. “She’s a keeper.”

“Yes, sir,” Rosa nodded.

He stared at her reproachfully. “I hope you take this fine lady to the symphony and not just to your rock concerts.”

“She does, sir,” you assured him. “We even have season passes.” And then you had what you thought was maybe one of your more brilliant ideas. “Maybe we could all go together, sometime? Me and Rosa and you and your husband?”

Rosa and Captain Holt stared at each other for a moment, and you were afraid you’d misread the situation terribly. You’d always thought that Rosa liked Captain Holt, at least from the way she talked about him. You thought they were friendly with one another. Maybe you’d been wrong.

You tried to backtrack. “Or maybe not,” you blurted. “Just a thought.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how quickly both Rosa and Captain Holt jumped to reassure you. So quickly that their voices overlapped.

“That’d be great, babe.”

“Now, doesn’t that sound nice?”

Gina rolled in front of the door to the break room. “Captain, you have a phone call,” she yelled out as her chair rolled by.

“Excuse me,” Holt said, standing. He stood, pressed his hand over yours and said, “Truly nice to meet you, Y/N. I look forward to our mutual date.”

When he’d gone, Rosa stared at you. She was smiling. Really smiling.

“What?” you asked, your face reddening.

She leaned forward and kissed you quickly, her hand gently grasping your chin.

“What was that for?”

She tucked your hair behind your ear. “You did really good today,” she whispered. “I know you were nervous. Thanks for lunch.”

You turned an even deeper shade of red. “Anytime. Or, well, sometimes.”

She smirked and kissed you one more time, pulling away quickly as Jake wolf-whistled from the doorway.

“Shut your mouth, Peralta, or I’ll shut it for you,” she growled.

It was always so funny to you to see Rosa with others. So rough, so intimidating. When she turned back to you, she was soft. She was always soft with you.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, as you stood to leave, perching on tiptoes to kiss her on the cheek. Your voice had slipped back inside of you for the time being, so you simply squeezed her hand back and let her walk you out of the precinct.

Rosa watched you go, swinging your arms a bit as you walked down the sidewalk, and her heart ached. She loved you so much. Your quiet voice, that was always a gift to hear. Your swinging, fidgety arms. The fact that you loved her so much, so purely. She only hoped she could show you just as much love in return.

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz x fem!reader #rosa diaz x autistic!reader #x autistic!reader #rosa diaz fanfic #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn 99 fanfic

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sammyluvr · 9 days ago

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✶ . ၄၃ . to leave him with love — sam winchester part two of my boy only breaks his favorite toys

cw : gn!reader, angst, guilty sam, trials!sam, sort of a sicfic in a way, talk of death/dying/injury, food mentions/eating, closure but not necessarily a "happy" ending, post-cage sam memory fuckery, swearing, poorly edited, set in season 8 so spoilers, 8K words. requested !

summary : three years after sam told you to go, you run into him while stopping for gas in a town called lebanon, kansas. you stay the night with him.

you’ve stopped by for gas, that’s all. you’re hungry too, but the gas station’s store is tiny and has a very poor selection of snacks. it’s clear to you that you’d be better off at the nearest grocery store or diner. a quick survey of the area brings a shop across the road to your attention. it looks bigger than this place, and you’d really rather not have to go any farther or take any longer than necessary. you have a job interview in the morning, and you want to be well rested and well prepared. the plain looking mart will have to do.

you jog across the street; it’s a pretty quiet town and there are no cars. the shop is quiet too, and already better than the gas station store as you enter. there’s just the cashier at the front, and a glimpse of brown hair in the back corner. you pay neither any attention as you browse the second row for something that will satisfy your hunger until you get to your hotel. the sound of crinkling plastic as you debate what to eat seems extra loud amidst the hush of the store. there’s no words until you reach the register, just footsteps and the indication of gathered groceries in the other customer’s shopping basket.

neither you nor the cashier bother to make any conversation outside of the necessary exchanges to get you checked out and on your way. it’s a still day, with flat grey skies and autumn well on its way. some might call it gloomy, and they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, but you don’t mind it much. there’s nothing wrong with quiet, sometimes. that’s how it feels—the grey, the barren trees whose leaves had fallen early in the season, and the almost empty store—just quiet.

as you walk back towards the exit, the clatter of hard plastic on the ground is completely jarring, so much so that you physically startle, your head whipping around to the source of the noise. the single other customer’s basket has slipped from his hand to the loud tile. he looks unsteady, crouched to the ground and head bowed as hands that look like they should be strong skitter over the floor, collecting fallen grocery items. for a moment, you stare at those hands in a sort of wonder. they look so familiar, it makes your chest ache. they look like hands you’d once longed to hold, over and over again.

it takes eye contact with the man for you to realize they are indeed those hands. the thought that it could be him had certainly crossed your mind the instant you saw that exact shade of brown hair in the corner of the store. but it had crossed your mind so many times in the last three years that you never pay it any mind. it’s always a trick of the eye. a trick of the heart, maybe.

but there’s no mistaking those eyes. green sometimes, a dull grey in this lighting. some days, blue. other days like sunflowers. every day, an object of your love. he looks so tired, is the first thing you think, which feels sort of silly considering… well, considering everything.

before, you’d always thought that movies tend to drag on momentous seconds of stunned eye contact for far too long, but this moment feels like forever. three years ago feels like forever ago. and you remember it like you walked out of that motel room door just this morning. there’s so much hurt. you’ve moved on. you love him still, but not quite as much. that’s another thing that’s forever, no matter what. you loving him.

you whisper his name and your feet carry you to him like you have no choice in the matter. he looks frozen. he looks like a deer in headlights. if you had your way three years ago, or ever, he’d be your dear in headlights. then you remember he’s not yours, never was, and never will be. but frankly, you don’t care too much about that right now. you sink to your knees in front of him and put his almond butter and pre-sliced multigrain loaf of bread back into the basket. you push it away and sit back on your heels and just look at him. you don’t give a damn that the cashier is staring.

for a moment, you wonder if this is some cruel joke, if he’s not real. just a figment of your imagination, or perhaps another shifter who’s come to trick you and use that shamelessly unending love of yours to lure you to your final demise. you could test him with the little silver knife tucked into your boot, but you don’t think you will, and you don’t think it’s needed. his shocked face blurs for a moment as you grow teary eyed, but you blink until you can see him clearly again.

“you look like hell,” you whisper, your expression an odd mix of a sad smile, adoring eyes, and your worried brow. he flinches at your words and it almost makes you physically recoil too. you’ve clearly said something wrong. he seems sort of broken, and you honestly think it could kill you. “i like your hair like this,” you say instead of sorry. it’s not said as an apology, though. you mean it. maybe you sound stupid to him, but you don’t really mind anymore.

you’re looking at the man who broke your heart, and somehow all you want is to take him in your arms and ask him why he looks so sick.

“sorry,” you murmur as your soft smile fades and a sick-with-worry frown takes its place.

“don’t say sorry to me,” he shakes his head, breaking his silence. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he sounds so weary, and certainly very sorry too.

truthfully, sam doesn’t remember the details of the day you left. he remembers very few details from pretty much anything in his life that happened before the cage. but he remembers the feeling. he still feels it. the guilt, the love, the realization of how much he hurt you. the realization of how vastly and how long you loved him. even now, you look at him with love and he feels entirely undeserving of it.

“i know you are, sam,” you breathe out. it hurts to look at him, really. the anger lingers, but it’s had three years to mellow. goodness, you had always been content to love him quietly, just like today’s sleepy hush. it wasn’t until he loved you back that you couldn’t bear it, because he was intentionally denying you what he could finally give, should he choose to. for a few weeks, you were foolish enough to think that he might make all your dreams come true. then, you were foolish enough to think you could change his mind when he started to pull away. he did not choose to give you his love, but instead to tell you to go. nothing hurt more than him telling you to go, you think.

sam doesn’t know what to do. does he ask you back to the bunker? does he just apologize over and over again while standing by his car in the chilly parking lot? does he tell you he has trouble with his memory these days, ask if you remember what he said so he can know exactly how he hurt you and say sorry for it? and probably torture himself with it for years to come.

you stand, picking up his shopping basket. the contents don’t make much sense to you. it’s all the sort of thing you’d take home, not to some motel you’ll only be in for as little as a day or two. but you ignore that for now, holding out a hand to help him up. “c’mon. you look like you should be in bed with a hot bowl of soup.” those words don’t make him flinch, so you hope they’re okay.

he takes your hand and stands on unsteady legs. his touch is like fire, maybe. his hands are very warm, like they always have been. but you think they’re hotter with fever. there’s no way he isn’t running a temperature right now. of course, there’s that sort of heat, and then there’s the burning sting of skin to skin contact with him. your chest tightens and you could mistake the feeling for heartburn if you didn’t know it was a sheer physical reaction to touching him after all these years.

you want to scream at him, cry about how horridly he broke your heart. make him feel guilty about how lost you were for almost a whole year after. how angry you were, how depressed, how reckless and teary and lonely.

his shoulders look like they hold the weight of worlds, and you’re tired. your hand slips from his and you return to the cash register with his basket. the cashier who probably doesn’t get paid enough says nothing about the highly strange encounter they just witnessed. they just scan the items as sam follows you like a sad, sick puppy. he pays with a card you doubt is real. you carry his bags for him, and when he tries to take them from you, you shoot him a withering look that gets him to back down. right outside the door, one of his clumsy hands takes hold of the bags in your right hand and tugs them away with enough force that you just let it happen. you nearly roll your eyes.

you give a huff of breath. “you’re in no state to drive. i don’t even know how you made it here in the first place,” your eyes scan the little lot for the impala, but it’s not there. “let me drive you to where you’re staying.” you don’t actually say it as a request, and he doesn’t think he could deny you either way. so you wait for a singular car to pass before crossing the road again. he sees your car parked at the gas station and remembers it’s the same one you had before. he couldn’t recall the make and model until seeing it again.

to your surprise, sam doesn’t give you directions to the nearest motel. you pull into a driveway a bit aways from a large, nondescript building. you can easily guess that it mostly lays underground. he guides you inside, and you look out from the top of the stairs.

“what is this place?” you ask, almost in awe. already from here it looks like a hunter’s heaven. he gives you a slight smile as he leans against the railing.

“sort of a long story,” he says, sounding tired.

you remember his state and wave your hand to dismiss the thought. “you can tell me later,” you say absentmindedly. you weren’t really thinking much because you’re not so sure he’ll really get the chance; you won’t be here long. “you should sit down.”

he starts down the stairs. “we’ll put the groceries away first.” you shake your head at his usual stubbornness and follow him into a kitchen, watching as he puts the few bags of food away. there doesn’t seem to be a lot of other food, nor a clear system to where things go, but to you it seems that he and dean must’ve been staying here for at least some time now.

it’s strange. in all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him like this; so unmistakably and oddly domestic. it’s such a simple thing, to be putting groceries away in one’s own kitchen. you think you could cry. you’ve imagined this before—putting groceries away in a kitchen of your own, with him.

you’ve imagined a lot of things with him before, and it was never anything like where you really ended up. maybe that’s what hurts the most about this all; you never imagined that you wouldn’t have him around. that he wouldn’t have you around.

“where’s dean?” you ask.

“out on a case. he left yesterday,” sam answers simply. he’s probably bothered that dean made him stay back because he’s sick. at least, that’s just what you assume to have happened.

you just give him a nod. now that you’re here with him, you have no idea what to do with yourself. do you talk about what happened that day? you sort of said everything you needed to back then. of course, you’re not the same person anymore, but honestly, you’re just still hurt. the ache is duller now, but you used to think up whole futures with him. you used to think of him as a given, or at least his friendship. in your mind, there was never the risk of losing him like you did. he could’ve prevented that, and he didn’t. he thought he was protecting you. that’s part of the anger.

then you look at him, hands trembling a bit, bags under his eyes, and a weight so heavy and unbearable that you can practically feel it too, hanging over him. and you look at yourself; the same sort of jeans you’d wear on a hunt, but slightly less practical shoes and a shirt you actually like the way it looks on yourself. there’s still that knife tucked into your left boot, but it’s only there for worst case scenarios, not because you’re always in danger. you used it to peel a fruit once.

that day, you told him you wouldn’t leave hunting just so he wouldn’t worry. that you’d still be in danger, regardless if you’re around him or not, regardless of whether or not he loves you.

for a year, those things were true. you were so lost, so you threw yourself into hunting. you knew the signs of the apocalypse and ran straight towards them. even if it wasn’t to help sam—that’s what you told yourself—you still had a responsibility to try and protect the rest of the world. you have the foresight now to know that it was for sam, even then. you thought that if you could lift some of his burden, he’d come looking for you, and you’d shut him down so that you could break his heart back.

maybe tonight you’ll tell him you nearly died because of it. you nearly bled out on a cold, hard floor. but you made it out, stitched yourself back up, and told yourself, fuck this shit. before sam and dean, you were tied to hunting for other reasons. you had your own personal chip in the game, just like pretty much every other hunter out there. but by the time sam told you to go, you’d let go of those reasons, and you never realized such until that night you almost died. by then, it was just sam. he’s what kept you there, and you didn’t have him anymore, so it felt quite stupid to get yourself killed just to prove him wrong. he might not even ever have known. there’s a chance no one would have even found your body.

it really took you eleven and a half months and a near death experience to get you to start truly moving on. to start actually trying to move on. it was just so much easier to be ruined by his rejection. you deserved to act out, surely. the pain of it and the anger was more than you could handle at that time. and then you were just so tired. the exhaustion reached your bones, sunk in and dragged you down. you left hunting.

you’d wanted to prove him wrong so badly. you still believe wholeheartedly that this isn’t the way things should’ve gone, but maybe he was right, in a way. things are starting to look up for you these days. you’ve still got a lot of moving on to do, but you’ve started, at least.

you war between telling him you’re doing better now, that you got out, or telling him that you don’t care if you would’ve been beaten down and torn apart like he looks he has been because you would’ve been with him. you’d bear anything if it meant being with him. or you would have. it sort of hurts your heart because you don’t think that’s true anymore. and you suppose that’s a good thing,

but somehow there was something easier about loving him blindly and unceasingly to the point of willingness to bear through hell. you don’t know it, but if you had stayed, it would’ve been a hell of sorts for you. it was much more hellish for him, in a way you’ll never know, but your suffering would’ve been horrible in its own right.

“i got out,” you whisper. he looks up at you in surprise. you’re not looking at him. he sits across from you at the little kitchen table. then, you meet his gaze. “i was just stopping by for gas. the gas station here has shitty snacks. i’m on the way to a job interview a couple of hours away from here. at eleven, tomorrow morning.”

his face is one of unbridled hope and relief. he smiles a bit and reaches for your hands resting on the table. you have to look away from him when they make contact and he notices, pulling away.

“i’m so happy for you. i’m so glad,” he says softly. he almost said he’s proud, but he realizes it’s not his place to say so. “and i’m sorry. i know i hurt you.” but he still just sounds mostly relieved. it means everything to him that you got away from it all and he’s scared that just running into you will throw you off this path.

you inhale sharply, then let it out slowly. “you did. more than i’d ever been hurt before,” you admit. “it tore me apart, sam. i loved you so much.”

his face falls again. he wonders what he said to you. what made you leave. and there’s a bit of hope. loved, you’ve just said. if you don’t love him anymore, that must be a good thing, he thinks. you still speak to him softly.

“i still love you,” you confess. you look him in the eyes, “very much, and i always will, i think. but not so much anymore. i had to move on or i’d get myself killed. i almost did. that first year, i put myself in so much danger just to try and prove you wrong. but i didn’t want to die, i just wanted you to have me back. it was so hard to rip myself away from it all because it felt like i was proving you right.” you can’t help but tear up as you speak. you missed him so dearly and so violently. you sort of feel like making bad decisions and throwing your progress out the window and kissing him and sticking around. that wouldn’t be healthy at all, and you don’t think he’d let you. you’ve grown enough restraint to know you won’t really do that to yourself either.

“but it wouldn’t be fair to myself to come back to you after you told me i should go. i think it's the cruelest thing anyone’s ever said to me. when i think of your voice, the first thing i hear is how gently you used to talk to me. and then i hear your voice—it was so cold and even trying to be a bit harsh—saying ‘yes. you should go.’ and i still can’t understand how you could say that to me.” you have to pause to collect yourself, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

so he told you to go. that’s what he did, he told you to go. he feels wretched.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers again. “i– i shouldn’t have said that to you.” he doesn’t say that he regrets the way things have turned out. he most certainly regrets hurting you like that. he regrets that you nearly died because of it. he wonders if you were alone. he’s terrified by the thought.

but after you left, he jumped into the cage with lucifer. his soul was stuck there for over one hundred years. his body came back, and soulless, he never could have loved you right. he wouldn’t have cared about you, and it would have hurt you so horribly. he would’ve hurt you so horribly. and then he came back, but he couldn’t remember anything. his memories came back next and he fell apart, understandably so. but not even all his memories remained intact. he forgot a lot about his life before the cage, about you. and he wouldn’t be able to bear your love. touch is still difficult for him. he’d have nothing to give you, plagued by hallucinations of the devil and haunted by the cruelest of hands. and now, he’s dying and you probably just think he’s running a bad fever.

“you shouldn’t have,” you agree. you sound more tired than angry, to him. he wishes he could remember what your voice sounds like when you’re happy, when you’re sleepy and smiley at the same time, when you get excited. hearing your voice at all brings some of it back. the tired and the sad and upset and angry and resigned come back quicker, though.

you sigh. “i missed you.”

he missed you too, so he says, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s been so long,” you say. he nods, his pinky brushes against yours. you have no idea.

“so long. i missed you, too,” he risks saying, because he thinks from the way you’re looking at him that you want to hear him say it. your eyes look a little glossier, and you give a little sigh of relief. indeed, you did want to hear it.

there’s something in his voice when he echoes so long, as if it’s been a lifetime. it has been for him, but not you. he won’t tell you that, though. he’s decided to pretend like everything’s fine. that’s what he does all the time, but for a moment he had been considering telling you everything.

maybe so you can know the extent of horrors you would’ve had to endure. and maybe to tell someone who will be thoroughly and unfailingly empathetic and kind and sorry about it. you’d most certainly hug him, even if you’re still angry at him. but the key is that you’d be sorry about it and he doesn’t want you to be sorry about anything at all. and if you hug him and stroke his hair and tell him you’re sorry he had to go through that all, he’s not sure he can come back from that. he’ll need you and he can’t afford that. he wouldn’t do that to you.

and regardless of how foggy his memory is, he knows without a doubt that you’re too good for your own good. too sweet and feeling and he’s sure you’d feel guilty about not being there for him. he doesn’t want you to feel that way. so, he won’t say a thing. but he’d love to hear about everything from you, if you’re willing.

you cross your pinkies over his on the table, nothing else. “would you lay down in bed if i asked you to? i’m sure you haven’t been taking care of yourself. you look so sick, it’s a miracle you didn’t collapse in that grocery store.”

he doesn’t want to do that exactly, but he’ll do quite literally anything you ask him to. “aren’t you hungry?” he says. he remembers the snacks you bought, somehow even that you usually get hungry this time of day because of your eating habits. you must be extra hungry since you’ve been on the road.

you purse your lips like you wish he hadn’t evaded your question.

“yes, i’ll lay down. after you eat,” he relents.

“you should eat too. i’ll make us some sandwiches,” you say. that’s the deal, and he knows it. you’ll eat so long as he does it with you. that’s alright. he doesn’t have much of an appetite, but he likes the thought of eating something you make for him. he holds back a frown when your hands lift from his, even if the contact was so little before.

he rests his face in the palm of one of his hands, watching as you move through his kitchen, taking some of the groceries back out from where he put them away. to him, it looks like you're floating. you move slowly and softly and even though you bear the weight of seeing him again and having it all rush back to you after two years of trying to move on, your shoulders seem light. he watches you with so much love. now it’s his turn to imagine domesticity with you.

you can feel his gaze, but you don’t look at him.

the sandwiches are eaten in silence. he watches you still. it’s not uncomfortable though. it’s sort of nice to know he wants to just see you, in any way at all.

maybe today is a day for ignoring most everything. for giving into it, for taking what you want and suffering the consequences later. holding his hand might plague you for weeks. and holding him close? likely much longer than just that. but it would make you feel better right now. to have him just for tonight. to get him to sleep, to leave him with love rather than anything else. that, at least, would make you feel better for longer than just the passing of today’s sun and moon.

you dump your plates and any other used dishes in the sink. you plan to clean them before you leave. in the morning, hopefully. you’ll still make it to your interview if you leave early enough.

then, you stand, hold out your hand, and wait for him to take it. the size of your hand in comparison to his doesn’t really matter. the way he reaches up and curls your fingers into his makes you feel like his hand is swallowing yours up in the softest way it ever could. he stands when you give the gentlest of tugs and leads you to his room just like he knows you want. he doesn’t let go of your hand because you don’t let go of his.

it feels silly to him to waste time laying down in bed while your here. he’s not sure he’ll ever see you again. that makes him want to cry. so he sits on the edge of his bed and guides you down to sit with him.

you don’t protest physically. “i wanted you to lay down,” you murmur, your hand finally falling from his.

“i’ll lay down when i go to sleep for the night,” he shakes his head softly.

“you said you’d lay down after eating,” you frown.

“laying down right now feels like a waste,” he answers, honest for once.”i’d rather sit with you.” you think you’re having heart palpitations. you rub your palms over your clothed knees. you’re feeling a little sweaty.

“you look so different,” you tell him, “you know, besides looking sick. how’d you get to look so ill?” you ask but don’t wait for an answer. “i meant it when i said I liked your hair like this, by the way. it’s looks nice long.” his cheeks heat up a bit and you can see his blush when you glance at him. it’s subtle and soft, but more obvious because of his pale, poorly complexion.

“thank you. you look great, really,” he tells you, quite earnest as he says it too. he thinks you look amazing. twenty six year old sam would go crazy like a school boy if he saw you know. he thinks he was twenty six back then. present time sam—he’s not sure how old he’s to be considered, probably twenty nine or thirty to you—still feels like he’s going crazy too, just not in the good old fashioned crush type of way. just in the way that you’re stunning, even though you’re tired and bedraggled from what he can guess has been a long and dreary drive. just in the way that he already knows he doesn’t have you.

“thanks, sam.” you can hear and see how much he means it. you reach a hand up and rest it on his forehead. you could already feel his body heat radiating from just being seated at his side. “you’re burning,” you inform him, “i don’t get how you’re sitting up straight right now.” he just gives a soft sigh.

“there’s a bathroom across the hall?” you ask, recalling the glimpse you saw on the way here. he hums a yes and lets you leave. you come back with two cool washcloths. one for his head and the other for the back of his neck. you hand him the first and he looks at it with a small smile. then he stills, barely breathing as you place the other on the back of his neck, brushing his hair out of the way. your fingertips in his hair and the cold cause him to shiver.

“have you taken any tylenol or anything today?” you ask. he shakes his head.

“it’s no use,” he says, but he doesn’t explain why. you furrow your brow.

“that’s silly. what, you don’t believe in modern medicine anymore?” your voice is just soft, not even teasing.

he purses his lips. “i do. tylenol won’t help, though.”

“i suppose you won’t tell me why?”

“i’ll have a dose. there’s a bottle in the bathroom,” he relents in answer. no, he won’t tell you why, that means. if he won’t tell you, that probably means it’s something bad. he’s probably not just suffering from a simple flu. even an untreated flu can be very dangerous, but his sickness is probably something worse. but he wants to pretend, and you sort of do too.

“okay,” you whisper. “you sure it won’t help?”

“i’ve been sick a while now. it doesn’t help,” he admits. you’re sure he won’t say anything more, but it most certainly makes you quite concerned to hear that.

you’re afraid to ask. “will you be alright?” it’s very hard to forget that you still love him. impossible, like this. so close to him, feeling the heat of his feverish skin and hearing the sound of his voice.

he doesn’t answer for a long moment, unsure what to tell you. “everything will be alright,” he decides. he knows that’s not what you asked. but he’s resigned to his fate whatever it is, so to him, everything will be alright. in a way. sort of, maybe. hopefully for you, at the very least.

you’ll have to settle for that answer because it’s the best one he can give you. you grab his hand that rests on his knee, palm up and still loosely holding that damn cloth you gave him.

“okay. hold that to your head. you might feel a little better, even if it’s just for now,” you say, guiding his hand up until he holds the washcloth over his forehead like you asked. you gently pull out the strands of hair trapped under it, tucking the stray pieces neatly away.

now, he honestly feels a bit cold. you tug over a folded blanket from the foot of his bed and drape it over his shoulders, hoping to keep any chills away. then you flip the cool rag on his neck to the other side, the side first in contact with his skin already grown warm. you settle next to him and sigh a bit.

you observe his room and he observes you. it’s very barren, hardly lived in. it must be strange for him to have somewhere much more long term than a motel, you think.

your face is melancholy, he thinks.

“you’ve never actually said you love me,” you whisper. “or loved, or whatever. it’s okay if it’s loved. did you?”

“i do,” he breathes out. you nearly start crying, right then and there. your chest is tight and the breath you let out is shuddering. “i do love you, and i’m sorry.” he watches as you blink back tears. you nod a bit, feeling sort of pitiful. you don’t like the way you feel, but you’ve longed to hear it. you needed to hear it.

“no more saying sorry, please,” you request quietly. you’ve decided that he’s said it enough. not enough to make up for things, of course, but enough that you don’t want to hear it anymore.

he almost says sorry again, for saying sorry too much. “okay,” he agrees softly. you drop your head to his shoulder and he tenses. you nearly pull right away with an apology on your lips when you’re worried he’s uncomfortable with it, but his hand slips from underneath the blanket you gave him and wraps around your shoulders. you sit there for a long while, very quiet. eventually he dares to rest his head on yours.

his clammy warmth makes you sweat too, but you don’t care. you’re soaking it all up because you know you’ll never have it again. this will have to be enough.

you break the silence. “sam,” you sigh, sounding a bit defeated, very tired. “how did we get here?”

he sighs too. “you know how,” he sounds more defeated, more exhausted, more guilty. but he can’t say sorry again, because you asked him not to. you reach over and play with his free hand. he’d stopped holding the washcloth to his head a bit ago. your fingertip trails down each of his long fingers, drawing circles around his knuckles.

“you’ll miss me?” you ask, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the cracks of your calm.

he pulls you imperceptibly closer. you feel it. his heart aches and aches and aches. “i will,” he says, all sure and steady and reassuring, “very much. you’re the kind of person that’s very hard not to miss.” i’m sorry i’m not good enough for you, he thinks, since he can’t say it aloud.

“i’ll miss you too. i miss you every day,” you breathe out. he wishes you wouldn’t. he wishes you’d never have to ache for him at all, but you do. you have for so long, maybe it’s a part of you now. aching is certainly a part of him.

“please don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs, wondering if he’s allowed to ask that of you.

“i’ve been learning how,” you tell him. “some days i barely miss you at all. some days i even forget that i miss you until i’m reminded of you. which is often, unfortunately. i spent years coming up with ways to associate just about everything in the world with you. just because you were everything in my world.” you’re tired. your eyes fall closed. “not anymore, though.”

“well… someday i hope i’m something very small and manageable,” he whispers.

“i don’t,” you refute on instinct. you sigh and deflate. “i do. you’re just very tall.” he has to bite back a bark of surprised laughter. he grins instead, since you can’t see his face. he’s just glad you haven’t held back from saying something funny. you huff out a laugh, eyes drifting back open.

“i’m hungry,” you decide, “i’m going to make some dinner.”

you eat alone in the kitchen. once you were left to your own devices to cook, you realized you needed to breathe. you couldn’t do so very well around him. so, you selfishly eat first—it’s not really selfish at all, as sam still has no appetite and couldn’t ever blame you for doing so—and bring back a plate of food for him. he’s sitting at his desk pouring over a book, it’s small text likely giving him an awful headache. you set the plate down next to him and sit on his bed again. you watch as he manages to eat some of it, but he doesn’t finish the portion.

you seem content just watching him, so he pushes the plate aside with a very sincere thank you and a cut-off apology for not finishing it. he continues reading his book, just for a bit. he’s hunched over the old thing, shoulders somehow slumped and tense all at once. you stand quietly and softly, hesitantly slide your hands over his shoulders. he stiffens, then relaxes.

nimble fingers pull the blanket wrapped around him back a bit. “can i unbutton your shirt?” you whisper, only because you can see a grey undershirt peeking out from the flannel’s collar.

“don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t take care of me. you don’t have to keep doing that. it’s not fair.”

“i won’t if you really don’t want me to. but.. won’t you let me have this? just this once?” you ask, telling him that you want to.

“you don’t have to,” he says, softer. but you can, is the part left unsaid.

your hands slip down, undoing the buttons until it brings you too close to him to bear. he takes over for you, sensing your hesitation to move any closer once your breath hits his neck, unbuttoning the last three and shrugging the shirt off.

you start with simple, soothing rubs over his shoulders, trying to get him to actually relax. he finds that your roaming hands are easily bearable, welcome, even. he worried that he’d flinch or cringe away, especially as you opened up his shirt. but his hands fall into his lap and his chin begins to dip lower and lower. you watch in satisfaction and slowly work out the tension in his muscles. you think that, since you’re here, you need your time with him to be lovely and gentle. maybe you shouldn’t have the memory of what it might’ve been like to have him. maybe this will slow your moving on, slow your feet to a trudge.

the war in your chest tells you that you’re toeing the line between healing and harmful by being here, by indulging in what you feel was taken from you. but you know it never would’ve been this simple all the time. life is easier away from him, in some ways. away from the things that being with him brings along. so you’ll steal this now and bury it in your flesh and then walk out the door. this will be the last of him face to face, hopefully the worst of the torture.

oddly enough, you think you’ll survive it. you just are starting to wish that you could kiss the back of his neck as you brush the hair from it. you won’t. you won’t kiss him anywhere, not ever. except for the time you kissed him on the cheek the first time you’d seen him after he came back to hunting. you meant it as a friendly one, and that’s certainly how he took it back then.

you stand there massaging his shoulders until your legs grow tired and knees a bit bothered, then a little longer after that. tender hands lay still there, thumbs barely edging past his t-shirt to rest on his skin as you twist your head and take a peek at his face. his eyes are satisfyingly closed.

your thumbs give a gentle back and forth movement, pushing a little at the hem of his shirt. “to bed,” you whisper, patting his shoulder lightly. his eyes drift back open and he lets out a long breath. you step away, hand trailing down his arm as you head to the bed. his hand catches yours before it loses contact and he follows you without another word. he just lets you do as you like. he owes you that much, and more, for telling you to go.

when you pull back the covers, he climbs in and you follow after him. he opens his arms to you, despite being a bit surprised. he tucks you into his chest and his eyes sting with tears for a moment before he’s able to blink them away.

and then you talk and talk because you don’t want to hear whatever happened while you were gone. you’re sure that sort of thing would weigh you down much more than you deserve. so you tell him everything, to get it all off your chest. you still feel closer to him than anyone else you’ve met in these last few years. and it’s not as if you can tell the full truth to anybody in your new life. your voice is quiet and gentle and lulling, and even when his eyes close, he listens with rapt attention.

his fever makes him even warmer than he usually is, so you eventually have to escape from his hold. you don’t part, but you shift up and tuck his head into your chest instead. that way you’re not as smothered in his heat.

“...and you know, i forgave you a while ago. there was no use holding a grudge,” you murmur. his brow creases. he doesn’t feel as though he should be forgiven. “i am doing better. away from it all. you were sort of right. you were wrong, but right. i guess it doesn’t really matter who was right, though, because we can’t really change anything now.”

“you’re allowed to be mad about it,” he says. he’s still so glad that you feel like you’re doing better, though. so glad.

“i was. so angry. still am, sometimes. but being mad never really got me anywhere. it was just something i needed to feel until i could start moving on,” you explain. you’d already told him just ten minute about how angry you had been. about how it made you bitter and a plain old hot mess for some time. “think about it, sam,” you urge him, “isn’t it a good thing that i still love you? even if it hurts sometimes and even after i was so mad. isn’t it good that that’s what’s leftover? i’d rather love you than be angry at you, because– well, because i don’t like being angry. this feels better. it doesn’t hurt as much, and i’m learning how to live with it. anger isn’t quite so liveable. if it helps, it’s for me. i– everything used to be for you. but it’s not anymore.”

that does help, but he doesn’t know how to not feel sorry for everything. “i can hear you hurting,” he whispers. “i can hear it in your voice.”

“yeah,” you breathe back, “but it’s more like an ache, sam, and it’ll go away. it’ll go away, and it would make me feel better if you wouldn’t feel so sorry anymore. give yourself this much. to know that i’ll end up just fine and that i’ll always love you. you worry so much, so don’t worry about me. as a favor.”

there’s a long silence. for a moment, you think that your voice has finally put him to sleep.

“i’ll try,” he says, just for you.

you let a new silence fall. that will have to be enough, so you let him be. he falls asleep, and it’s easy to tell just how deeply he rests. with his sickness and constant bone-deep exhaustion, it’s completely unsurprising.

as for you, you stare at the darkened ceiling after switching off the bedside lamp and run your fingers through his hair, over and over again. you’ve always loved his hair, and you love the length, but you sort of miss when it was boyish.

you start to cry and even when your chest shudders with uneven, tear-filled breath, he doesn’t wake. you shake and sniffle and wet his pillow and his hair with your tears. he hardly stirs, which you’re infinitely glad for. you couldn’t bear to receive his comfort were he to wake.

you cry yourself to sleep, sweaty and snoring with your whole arm going numb from the position you’re in.

one would think sam would sleep long and heavy. but these days, while he’s not a light sleeper, he’s been a restless one. most nights he wakes in feverish discomfort every couple of hours. he supposes that your presence has kept him asleep for longer than usual tonight, but not until the morning.

he wakes to the dark and one of your still hands in his hair. the other has fallen limply onto the sheets. he shifts slowly and carefully so he can tilt his head up to look at your face. his eyes adjust to the darkness quickly. sam reaches up with a tired hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. he’s met with the slightest resistance. your tears haven’t fully dried, and he realizes that he’s wiping at teartracks. you might’ve even been crying in your sleep.

and since you can’t hear him, he whispers, “i’m sorry.” he wants to lay awake, feeling the rise and fall of your chest, hearing your little snores in tandem, and seeing you for as long as he can. but sleep drags him under once again, his hand falling from your cheek to rest on your neck.

you wake early, knowing exactly where you are before you open your eyes. the weight of sam’s body, halfway on top of yours, is hard to miss. the memory of his nearness is the sort that floods through you the second you can think of anything at all. you know what you have to do, but it hurts more now that the time has come. there’s no more pretending left to do, no more sand at the top of the hour glass. your time with him has run out for good.

you reach up and gently hold his hand that lays over your neck. you’ll make your interview in time if you lay here for just a few more minutes. then you slide out from under him, careful with his sleeping body, cupping the side of his head to be sure it gets to the pillow as gently as possible. he rolls onto his stomach, just how he always does when he’s not sharing the bed. you used to tease him for it, but he looks so soft and peaceful that it just makes you even more endeared with him.

it’s not very possible to resist from brushing a strand of his mussed hair away from his face. his cheek is squished against the pillow, lips slightly parted, and face still looking sickly. he looks weak in his sleep, vulnerable. his hulking frame seems small, his matured features worn tired with much more than age. he’s still young, really.

“oh, you really know how to just tear someone’s self restraint to shreds, don’t you?” you mumble, shaking your head at him. he doesn’t stir when you speak, just as you expected. you swoop down, not at all graceful, and press the softest of kisses to his cheek. since you’ve kissed him there before all those years ago, you tell yourself it’s alright. it’s nothing new. just that you’ve kissed his left cheek this time. the first, it was his right. how or why you remember that, you’ll ignore.

then you tuck him in properly and erase the room of all signs that you were ever there. you grab the plate of food you brought him last night, and steal one last glance of him before shutting the door quietly behind yourself. “bye, sam,” you whisper to the closed door. “be careful, please.”

you wash all the dishes from yesterday, put them right back where they were, and ensure the kitchen is exactly how it was when you entered for the first time. not really as a favor. you don’t clean anything else but the dishes, nor do you organize the mess that the fridge is.

the only traces of you that remain are the ache in the air, the missing slices of bread from the new loaf on the counter, and the folded flannel shirt that will greet him on his desk when he wakes. but you will be gone, once again and for the last time.

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theostrophywife · 6 months ago

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PROLOGUE

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: cruel summer by taylor swift.

🤍 author’s note: this series has been a year in the making and i'm so glad to finally share it with you. as always, replies, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. I love hearing what you guys think.

Seventh Year, Great Hall

Pansy Parkinson leaned against the stone wall and surveyed the occupants of the Great Hall over the top of her champagne flute. Seven years she had sat in this very room, during the span of her formative years, holding court at the head of the Slytherin table with her friends. The Sacred Seven, they called themselves. Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo, Theo and Y/N.

Since the moment Pansy walked off the Hogwarts Express, she knew that she and her friends would run this school. From their infamous common room parties to their shopping sprees in Hogsmeade and late night skinny dipping at the Black Lake, there had never been a dull moment amongst her group of friends. Now they were all graduating.

It was truly the end of an era.

In a rare display of emotion, Pansy found herself smiling as she spotted her friends from across the room. Blaise chatting — or flirting, you could never really tell with Zabini — with Padma Patil. Mattheo and Enzo chucking grapes into each other’s mouths. Idiots, she thought fondly. Lastly, her gaze fell to Theo and Y/N sitting at the far end corner of the Great Hall, talking like they were the only people in the world.

Some things never changed.

For as long as Pansy had known them, those two gravitated towards each other like magnets. Theo and Y/N were a package deal. You could never have one without the other. Best friends since birth, they had known each other longer than anyone else in the group. During their time at Hogwarts, Pansy watched her closest friends pathetically teeter between will they or won’t they territory. She thought that tonight might finally be the night that they crossed that proverbial line, but it wasn’t looking promising thus far.

In the past thirty minutes alone, she counted at least six opportunities for either one of them to make a move.

Yet nothing happened.

Theo had that stupid lovestruck expression on his face as he listened to Y/N talk, chuckling softly as she picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on his lapel. For Salazar’s sake, anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that they were meant to be together.

Pansy exhaled a long suffering sigh. Those two smitten idiots would never get together unless she did something about it. She truly had to do everything around here, didn’t she?

“Don’t,” warned a familiar voice. Draco slipped in beside her, cradling his own drink as he pinned her with a serious gaze.

Pansy bristled slightly, causing the sharp edge of her sleek bob to graze her jaw. “I don’t know what you mean by that, Malfoy.”

Draco sighed. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize that look in your eyes. Whatever you’re planning, I want absolutely nothing to do with it. This has the makings of another Pansy Parkinson scheme.”

She raised a perfectly arched brow. “Need I remind you that you’re only with Granger thanks to one of my infamous schemes?”

As if summoned by their conversation, Hermione sidled up next to her boyfriend. “What’s this about Granger?”

Pansy grinned, looping her arm around the Gryffindor. “Granger is going to tell her meddlesome boyfriend to mind his own business, while I actively plot against my closest and dearest friends.”

Hermione only shook her head. Though she hadn’t known Pansy as long as the others, the girl had welcomed her into their friend group with open arms, often roping her into chaotic situations. She had learned the hard way that there was no stopping the force of nature that was Pansy Parkinson.

“You Slytherins and your schemes,” Hermione teased. “Why not just let this one play out, Pans? They might surprise you.”

Pansy scoffed. “Please. I’ve watched those two bumbling idiots pine over each other for seven years. They had their chance.” She took a long swig of champagne. “Now it’s my turn.”

If there was one thing that people should know about Pansy, it was that she always got what she wanted. Pansy Parkinson never failed and neither would this plan of hers.

Seven days. Seven friends. Seven steps. Throw in a stunning villa in the Italian countryside and it was the perfect recipe for a whirlwind romance.

Someone was going to fall in love this summer.

A Cheshire grin curved its way across Pansy’s lips. “Let the games begin.”

#summer theo is going to hit i promise you #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theo nott fluff #theo nott fic #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n

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soobinologisttt · 8 months ago

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eternal hearts - hwang intak

pairing ☆ intak x f. reader

warnings ☆ !zombie apocalypse au, !death of parents, !borderline depression, !weapons, !zombie encounter, !sick member, !many mentions of death, !nightmares, !smut, !dry humping, !unprotected sex, !dirty talk, !semi praise,

word count ☆ 5k

a/n: i think this is all! lmk if i missed something. im super proud of this!!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

alone.

afriad.

these are daily feelings. the dread of knowing that you'll go to sleep alone and wake up alone.

that you'll probably never feel safe again, no matter how long you might live.

it has been two months since the outbreak.

you were at home while your parents were out grocery shopping.

you were so sucked into your text show, you didn't even notice your phone ringing at first.

but you were pulled back into reality when you picked it up.

it was your mom calling. you answered quickly, assuming that she wants to know if you have something in the kitchen or if she should buy it.

you remember the chills you got as you heard the screams of people around your mother. they still give you nightly nightmares, often waking up in a panic and a pile of sweat.

"what is happening mom? are you okay?" you panic and stand up quickly, getting ready to put your shoes on.

"y/n, do not leave the house. lock the doors, cover them with something, mattress, dressers, anything heavy." you hear her get out in one breathe, a warning that would stick with you.

"mom? what is happening?" you sobbed, fearing the worst.

"just know, your dad and i love you. i love you so so much and you're one of the greatest things that happened to me. which is why you have to keep fighting. for me" her voice cracked as she started to sob with you.

"mommy, please, tell me what is happeni-" you could barely get the words out as you cry.

before she could answer, the phone went slient.

your worst fear had came true at this moment. you were alone.

this was the first time you felt utterly alone but it wasn't the last.

this is the feeling that is currently washing over you as survey the empty cabinets of the house that you are currently living in.

you had to get out of your childhood home. too many memories haunt that place. it only made you feel more alone than you already do.

so after everything calmed down, you packed up your stuff, tooth brush, first aid, water, clothes, towels, anything you might need to live, and stuffed it into the car parked in your garage. driving a few towns over, you found a house primarily close to a supermarket.

a two story house with an abundance of food.

although you tried your best to ration, it wasn't enough.

after about two month, you needed more food.

you dreaded the day you had to exit a house again but it was unavoidable.

and today was the day.

it's a sunny day with a cool breeze. like a nice summer day, one where one might go to the beach or maybe a park.

as much as you wish you could do that, you can't.

the zombies on the street would turn into into a bloodbath with you. having a picnic with you.

you can only imagine the way they would eat you. would they start with your heart or brains?

these thoughts help to clear all thoughts and hopes of sunshine and picnics out of your head.

you remind yourself that you need food, unless you want to go out a lame way and starve to death.

you finally stop staring into the empty cabinets like something will appear and make your way to the living room.

your weapons are on display on the coffee table facing the boarded up window.

you look over the assortment of weapons. a machete, a hand gun, bat with nails, and a crowbar.

never in a million years did you think you'd have to own a gun. swearing that you wouldn't dare touch a gun.

but things have changed and now you own.

you pick up the hand gun and holster it on your waist, making sure it's secure but easy to grab if needed.

you grab the black backpack that is only carrying a bottle of water and swing it onto your back.

you double check to make sure you didn't miss anything that you might need, then you swifty pick up the machete.

you open the door quietly to peek your head out. and when you see it's all clear, you make your way to your car. hoping to load it up.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

you absolutly love your car. it was so silent, due to additions onto a car that make it quieter. you made sure to search it up before everything went offline. securing these parts in missions, working on your car in the garage at your old house.

it wasn't long until your car as silent as a mouse, starting up without a sound, stopping, and turning off without a sound. it was something that you were grateful to do.

you stop your car at the door of the supermarket. stick your head out the window to peek. once you saw it was all clear you exit the car, grabbing your machete from off the passenger seat

you silently enter the slight ajar sliding door. making sure to check your blind spots every second or so.

once you're in the store, you raise you cleaver up to keep your distance from anything that might pop up.

you quickly walk to the canned good isle and slide the bag off your back. you put your weapon down for one second to start packing away the food when you hear it.

it was too late, it was already so close to you. you slowly put down the bag before reaching over to the shelf to find the weapon you so desperately need right now. your eyes were kept on the undead body moving towards you.

you could only scold yourself for not looking around first. a rookie mistake that might cost you your life. in your head, you're beating yourself up. but outside, you are calm and confident. you won't let this take you out.

you observe the moving monster in front of you. it's clothes are all dirty and ripped. you can barely make out the color the shirt once was due to all the dirt and their jeans are shredded. to top that, it looks like it's decaying from he outside in. seeing their intestines draging along, makes you neary throw up.

you are still feeling around when you hit a can on the shelf. listening to it fall and roll, the zombie lunges at you.

the air in your lungs dissipates as you go into survival mood.

you turn your body to look for the weapon but instead you freeze. squeezing you eyes to brace for the bite that is coming. but it doesn't come. you grab the machete and turn around in one motion.

holding it to the stranger.

standing there is a boy and the zombie is on the ground. head a few feet away from its body.

approximately 5'11, with slighly bronze skin, brown eyes bright with life, chestnut brown hair, and a serious face.

his hands are both up in the air, as if he was surrending to police. sword still in one hand.

then in a low, husky voice, he speaks, "are you okay?"

he is quite literally ignoring the fact that you have a machete pointed at him.

"yes. who are you? is there more?" you rapidly spit out questions.

"yes, they're two here and three back at the house we sleeping in tonight.

"you aren't going to hurt me. i have weapons and i am not afraid to use them." you stand tall in an attempt to intimate him.

he smiles at you, "i wouldn't dream of it."

you were on the verge of responding when two boys walk into the isle.

they are laughing, "intak," one of the boys laughs out, nearly falling to the ground. meanwhile, the other one is holding back his laugh.

"they are idiots. we aren't gonna hurt you. we are just looking for a little food and medicine." intak tells you.

"yeah," the laughing one stops, "one of our youngest is sick. we can't lose him."

suddenly you remember the phone call. remembering and knowing the pain of losing someone.

you slowly put down your weapon.

"okay, well. let's make a deal. help me load this food into my car and i will help you find a drug store."

without hestation the boy that was holding back his laugh talks, "deal."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

you and the three boys climb into your car around the time the sun began to set. it was still light outside but you know it's gonna get dark fast.

"you said you were living around here?" you ask intak, who is sitting in the passenger seat.

"yeah, just ahead." he points at the house you've been staying in.

"no, that's where i've been staying," you look at him.

"well that makes sense. we saw weapons on the table and got confused. we assumed it was empty sine there was no sign of human life." one of the boys in the back seat explain.

"did you not go upstairs? my stuff is everywhere." you ask back in a what the fuck attitude.

"no, we just laid our little brother down and left to get food." intak shyly smiles.

"well, it's almost night now. so you guys can stay. but you have to help me move the groceries into the house." you try to give a smile back, remembering that they were only there to help their little brother.

"we will get them all," a boy from the back seat tells you, "intak, you should walk in with her so the boys don't get scared." he continues.

as you pull into the driveway, intak nods and you turn off the car.

you both exit the car. you give your keys to one of the guys, making sure to tell them to lock up. adding the fact that it won't make a noise and not to be worried about drawing attention.

you both slowly shut the car doors, trying not to make a sound that would awake the few zombies that are lingering around.

you both walk in long strides quickly and make it inside, leaving the other two boys to get the food.

when you enter your eyes quickly make their way to three boys in your living room.

one is laying flat on his back on the couch. barely moving, one is sitting next to him on the floor, and the other is sleeping on the floor near them.

intak leans in, "the sick one is jongseob, the one watching him is theo, and the one sleeping is soul. we have been taking turns watching him. in fear that he might stop breathing when sleeping."

you can feel the pain in his voice.

"and the boys in the car?" you question as you never got their name.

"the giggly one is keeho and the semi-quiet one is jiung." he whispers to me.

it's like on que when keeho and jiung come crashing into the door with food hung in bag on thier arms.

"did you lock my car?" you ask as keeho hands you the keys.

"i did. where do you want these?" he pants.

"kitchen table." you nod towards the dining room.

they both nod at you before heading there.

you go to check the locks on the door, making sure to move the large dresser infront of it.

intak follows and help you.

"i do this every night. just makes me feel safe." you shrug.

"i get it. it's like us watching jongseob. it makes us feel better."

"yeah, what happened with him?" you ask as you both walk to the living room.

"we think he might of contracted some type of bug but since it was left untreated, he just got worse. we are looking for antibiotics or something."

"hmm, i can check the medicine cabinet and my first aid kit. i haven't been sick or hurt so i have no idea what is there."

he just gives you a little nod. obviously, trying not to get his hopes up.

"come on." you pull him upstairs, feeling just a little more safe with hm than the other boys.

maybe that's because he saved you or because how vulnerable he is being. you couldn't tell. but there is something there.

you lead him to the bathroom where the both of you start look for anything that might help.

you are on the ground looking in the first aid kits you've acquired over the months while intak is rummaging through the medicine cabinet above the sink.

"how long have you been alone?" intak asks not taking his eye off of the medicine he found.

"if i tell you, do you promise not to murder me or let them murder me?" you chuckle.

"we didn't plan on it, um by the way, i still don't know your name."

"y/n. and i've been alone since the start. my parents were out grocerying shopping when everything happened. my mom called to warn me and now i'm here. how about you, how long have you guys been together?"

"well as you can tell, we aren't biolgical brothers. we all grew up together and were at keeho's playing video games when it went down."

he gives a small smile, but you could see right through it.

"what about your parents?"

"we have no idea. no one contacted us. we just stayed together. that is one reason we can't lose jongseob. we are all we have." intak explans, while looking at label after label of medicine bottles.

you nod your head even though you know he can't see it.

you wanted to know what it felt like. to have someone during this time. people to lean on and cry with.

feeling the tears, you put your head down. still looking through the first aid kit even through you know the only thing in there that might help is tylenol.

"i found some!" intak opens the bottle to find five pills.

you look up quickly and then back down.

"well now we have five days to find a pharmacy or drug store." your voice came out wobbly.

intak quickly put the pills in the bottle and drops to his knees in front of you.

"y/n? did i say something?" he pulls you head up to look worriedly into your eyes.

"no, no, it's just been so long since i've been around people. and hearing your story made me wish I had people around me." you wipe your tears.

"i can't imagine what you've been through, y/n. you are so strong and do no need anyone. but i'm sure we would stay if you wanted us to." he gives you a small smile.

"thank you intak. let's go eat and give jongseob these meds." you push to get up at the same time as him. bumping him back against the counter behind you two.

you push back in a hurry, a shock of warmth spreading through you, "i am so sorry."

"don't worry about it y/n." the way your name rolls off his tongue turns you into a blushing mess as you turn and exit the bathroom.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

when you got downstairs, the smell of spaghetti filled your nostrils.

you immediately question intak, forgetting all about what just happened.

"you guys can cook food? like warm food?" you ask with wide eyes.

"yes, keeho invested in this portable stove thing. i don't know how it works but it's truly a blessing."

as soon as he stops talking you decide to run down the stairs and to the smell.

you couldn't even remember the last time you had a hot meal.

you run around the corner into the kitchen to see keeho and soul.

"soul, please stop making minecraft noises,"

"psh," you try not to laugh but let out a small chuckle.

"oh hi, umm, what's your name?" keeho smiles.

before you could respond intak does, "y/n. also we found antibiotics for five days. we need jongseob to eat and soon."

"i can speak for myself," you roll your eyes, "also is it almost done?" you look at the spaghetti like you haven't eaten in years.

it might be canned spaghetti but it is warm and that's all that matters.

"almost. are you super hunger? we made sure to get a couple of easy snacks." keeho goes full mom mode on you, pointing to the cabinet next to you.

"no, i just haven't had a warm meal in months." you smile.

"well you're in for a treat then."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

that night you ate toasted bread and spaghetti. you ate so fast that you nearly threw up. they all watched you in amazement. after you were done you sat there on the living room floor with the rest of the guys. they all learned your name and keeho feed jongseob. they gave him his first antibiotic and planning to taking turns to keep him hydrated.

it was late when you all decided to call it a night. they all had designated shifts to watch jongseob each night. tonight it was keeho's and jiung's. so the rest of us went upstairs.

soul, theo, and intak all walked to your room, seeing it to be the biggest. you didn't mind.

"uh, guys, that is my room but i don't mind sleeping in a different room so you can sleep with each other." you tell them.

"are you sure?" theo asks.

"yeah, i don't mind." you smile at him.

you all enter your room and you show them around. there wasn't much to show but you also decided to show them your stash of water and things.

you took a couple things and headed to the bedroom next door.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"mom." you cry out.

"mom?" you shout louder.

it's a black void that you are standing in. nothing for miles, and all you can do is call out. you want to see your mom again.

you spin and spin. still not seeing anything for miles. you run in a straight line for what feels like forever.

"mom! please mom! please come back." you fall to your knees, shaking and crying.

then you feel a slight shake.

you jump up in fear of your life.

"y/n?" intak says in the darkness of the room.

after realizing it's just him, you bawl. tears pouring out creating wet spots on your shirt.

that's when he pulls you into his arms. his strong arms holding you like you might slip away. like you might drown in your own tears.

"it's okay. i'm here. we are here." he whispers into your hair.

you latch onto him, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

intak strokes your hair until the tears stop. you feel your eyes ge heavy and slump against him. falling into a peaceful, nonfearful, sleep.

you don't notice that intak is still holding you until he tries to move.

laying you down softly, intak moves to get up. but instead, you grab his arm and do the unthinkable.

"will you please sleep in here with me?" you mumble, half asleep.

"are you sure? i dont want t-"

"please intak." you beg.

he complies and slips in besides you. rubbing your hair as you cuddle into him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

it was the early morning when you woke up. the sun was barely up. you felt more refreshed than ever.

you turn to see intak sneaking out of bed.

"oh i'm sorry. i didn't want the boys to wake up and see me gone." he smiles sweetly.

"it's okay." you smile back, "um this might sound weird but you smell really good. can i perhaps have your t-shirt. it helped me sleep. i am hoping to get a few more hours." you blush and look down at the white blankets around you.

"all you have to do is ask, y/n." intak smirks before pulling his shirt off with one hand.

you felt something you haven't in a long time, butterflies. not pure horniness, but actual butterflies.

sure you were horny at times but nothing would compare to the feel intak just gave you.

he hands you the shirt and you quickly change out of your shirt into his.

not caring if he saw your body. pure emotions (and horniness) are coursing through your body.

"i would say goodnight," he chuckles, "but it's morning now."

you sit there in his shirt, waiting for his next words.

"so i will say, sweet dreams y/n." he comes over and kisses your forehead.

you lay down as he exits. he turns to look at you as you repeat his words back to him.

"sweet dreams intak." you yawn.

he shuts the door and pick up the pillow he was laying on, cudding it as you fall asleep.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

it's been two weeks since you met the boys. and you can say that you already trust them with your whole heart.

you even let jiung and keeho take the car to find more medicine for jongseob. and after about a week and a half, jongseob began to look better. finally being able to sit up on his own and eat by himself.

they all still take turns looking after him despite his plee's that he is okay.

you have even started taking shifts. you take them with intak because being near him is the only way you can sleep.

he often sneaks into your room to help you sleep. cuddling you during the late hours of the night and sneaking back in the early morning.

besides that, you and intak have been getting super close. talking at all hours of the night and stealing sneaky glances (and touches) during the day.

he was a secret that you kept close to you. it was nice to finally have someone there for you. but also something that terrifies you.

because you knew, if you lost him, you would never be the same.

but all of those thoughts left your brain during one of the late night talks. where things strayed off into new territory.

"when was the last time you came y/n?" intak says, laying on his side, looking at you.

you stutter as you try to get out an answer.

in your brain you have two options.

you could lie to him and tell him that it has been awhile or you could tell the truth.

that you came all over your hand one morning after he left. smelling the pilliow he is currently laying on.

"come on y/n." he smirks, "i won't judge."

"umm, the other morning." you blush.

filling with embarrassment you turn to move.

you don't want him to see the red surfacing on your face.

beore you could move, he grabs ahold of you. with one arm, he pulls you close to him. you're face to face. and just as you thought he was going to kiss you, he pull you on top of him.

he is now laying on his back, looking up at you.

"woah, intak what are you doing?" you freak, it's been so long since you have had any action with a guy.

you don't know how to feel, but you do know that you don't want him to stop.

"you think i didn't hear those little moans? my name? you weren't exactly quiet."

you blush even harder and look up at the wall. wanting to look anywhere but the handsome boy under you.

"eyes down here y/n." he demands.

you comply and look down at him.

his eyes are hazy with lust and his dick throbbing under you.

you slowly grind over his hardening lenth. needing to get the release you all so need.

this causes intak to gasp in surprise.

you watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head when you start to speed up.

"fuck y/n. you're gonna drive me crazy." he looks up at you with dark eyes, causing you to shiver.

you use those words as fuel to keep going. rubbing your clothed cunt against hard shaft.

you feel the room become heavy as he reaches for the bottom of your shirt and helps you to pull it over your head.

he throws it off to the side, out of sight.

"holy shit, you're so pretty." he stares up at you, taking your left breast into his hand. rolling his index and thumb over your hardening bud.

you throw your head back at his touch. feeling the heat rush to your aching womanhood.

when he comes up and places his mouth on your nipple, you lose it.

pulling his face up, you kiss him feverishly.

teeth clashing as you forceful push your tongue into his mouth.

intak takes this time to move his hands to your hair, pulling lightly at the end.

the sounds of your mouth clashing and your tiny moans have you both wanting more.

but you're the one to break first, still grinding down onto him.

"fuck intak. can we please?" you beg.

"are you sure? i don't want you to regret this." intak looks at you with his big brown eyes. you know in that moment.

"i'm sure. I really like you intak. fuck i might even love you."

he flips you two. him staring down into your eyes.

"i think i might love you too y/n." he places sweet kisses onto your neck.

"please. please. fuck me." you whine.

"as you wish baby." he pulls down your pajama shorts and throws them across the room, next folllowing your panties.

you help him untie his pajama pants in a flash and pull off his boxers.

"well someone is needy." he chuckles before running his hand down to your wet heat, "damn y/n, you're so wet for me babe."

"intak, please." you can't take it anymore, reaching down to guide his dick into you.

"fuck," he slides in slowly as you wince at the feeling.

"you're so tight." he groans out as he slides deeper and deeper.

you claw at his back and wrap your legs around him, allowing him a different angle to go deeper.

"intak, intak, intak." you chant his name.

"shhh, we don't want to wake up the other guys." intak shushes you.

just then do you remember that through the thin wall are two guys you trust with your life. you don't want to wake them.

you give him slient nod as you bite your lip to keep the noises from falling out.

"i'm gonna speed up baby. can you be quiet?" intak leans down to whisper into your ear.

his husky voice causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

you nod as you bite down harder on your lip, drawing blood.

intak speeds up slowly before placing his hand on your mouth.

pounding into you at a speed that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and toes curling.

"you like that baby?" he spits.

you nod harshly.

"hmm, take it like the good girl you are." intak orders.

all you can do is moan into his hand as your body shakes with the pleasure he is giving you.

you never want it to stop.

when you feel the twitch of his cock, it sends you tumble over the edge.

sensing your orgasm, he removes his hand from your mouth to reach between you two, finding you clit in a hurry.

"intak, i'm coming. fuck. fuck." you mumble, coming out incoherent between the sounds of him fucking you into oblivion.

"come for me baby."

you come hard for the first in so long. nails dragging across his back, most likely leaving marks.

"mhm, you feel so good y/n," he takes a sharp breath in, "i'm getting so close."

he slows down a little bit. helping you to rideout your high. not wanting to overstimulate you.

you snap back into reality when intak questions you, "shit y/n," he growls, "i'm getting close. where do you want me to cum?"

you take a slight pause, formualting your thoughts while still being filled to the hilt.

"inside me please." you decide.

you didn't care if you get pregnant. you know he would be here throughout everything. you have your people and know they would help through everything.

"fuck y/n. you truly are perfect." he groans a he comes.

filling you to the brim as he spills his seed into you.

his cum overflows out of you and onto his cock.

he lets out a sexy moan before lightly collapsing on you.

"you're amazing y/n." he whispers.

"i'm so glad to have met you." you whisper back, eyes feeling heavy.

he notices your breath start to become shallow and pulls his softened lenth out of you.

the last thing you remember is the feeling of the soft cloth cleaning you off as you fall asleep.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

when you wake up, intak is still with you.

your eyes widen as you hear jiung through the door, "has anyone seen intak?"

you shot up and turn to the sleeping boy next to you.

you shake intak lightly and as he wakes up you lift a finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet.

then, if things couldn't get worse, you hear a knock on your door.

"hey y/n, have you seen intak?" you hear keeho on the other side of the door.

you and intak look at each other with smiles on your faces. trying not to laugh you confess. it was a spilt decision but you know you want to be with intak. there is not point in hiding it.

"he's in here with me."

intak sits up with wide eyes as you tell keeho what you've been hiding.

he gives you a 'why would you say that' look before you hear keeho chuckle.

"i knew it!"

intak finally lets out the breath he has been holding since you told keeho the truth.

you let out a soft chuckle.

"well i made pancakes. they are downstairs when y'all are ready."

"okay thank you." intak calls back, presumably to let them know he is alive.

as keeho walks away you hear him tell someone, "i told you."

you let out a laugh which causes intak to laugh.

you lean in to him and give him a quick peck, before pulling back.

"let's get dressed and eat. i'm starving." you smile widely at him.

"let's go y/n."

and for the first time in a long time, you weren't alone.

#hwang intak #hwang intak x reader #intak imagines #intak fluff #intak smut #intak hard hours #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony angst #p1harmony smut #kpop x reader #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #zombie #zombie au #p1harmony

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w2sology · 1 year ago

Note

Harry Lewis period comfort!!

by the book, harry lewis.

summary: how harry helps you through the unbearable butden to women that is periods.

warnings: shouldn't really be a warning but periods, language, moody reader, that's all!

the first time it happened, harry was completely puzzled

as in when he got the please buy me pads from the shops :( text, he had zero idea on what to do

frantically calling his mum for help bc he felt like asking his sister was a bit too odd

but his mum came to his rescue as she always did

told him what he should do and what to avoid doing

that day harry learnt a lot about you

like what foods made you mad and what foods made the pain more bearable for you

and ever since, he makes sure that he's stocked up on pads whenever you're staying over at his

as you grew older and your body started to mature, you started to change as well

you went from craving ice cream and stuff to craving iced coffee and fruit

but harry didn't mind, he'd go to the shops at 2am just for you because he knew that there was a whole day's worth of cuddles waiting ahead for him

the cuddles were the absolute best

as in we're talking legs tangled together, sheets all messy around you two, his arms on your stomach to help ease the pain or help hold the hot water bottle, and your head resting on his chest as you watch whatever's on the telly

you would hate how harry cancelled plans just to stay and look after you, even though he claimed that he was "surveying what it's like to be a homebody"

kissed and kisses and kisses

anything can be healed with a kiss, or at least that's what harry believes. so he gives you a pass for unlimited kisses.

unfortunately he's also the type to make you laugh until you start cramping, which leads to you getting pissed off at him

"harry— fucking stop, my stomach!"

"no one told you to laugh that hard!"

"get off me, bitch"

him taking photos of you sprawled out which he shows you later, ignoring how you cringe and shrink at yourself knocked out in pain

if there was ever to be an accident on the bedsheets, harry would be an abode sweetheart

waking you up gently and telling you that he ran a bath for you, and whilst you're in the bath he changes the sheets, gets you some fresh clothes and makes sure you have all the things you need for the next week

everyone expects him to be the least experienced when it comes to this stuff but after helping you out through these painful days every month, he seems to have a good understanding of it

"so is it like... can you feel it right now?"

"harry, i won't feel it unless i'm in an uncomfortable position or if i sneeze or something."

"... can you sneeze then?"

defo the type to jokingly ask if you want to have sex, only to stop the joke immediately after seeing your dead straight face.

overall, he's a human heater, a great blanket, and a good cuddle buddy all in one

#wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #sidemen #sidemen x reader #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw imagines #harry lewis #harry lewis x reader

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year ago

Note

Might I request caring for Bruce when he has no spoons left after a patrol? Cleaning his cuts, rubbing bruise cream on his bruises. Wiping his eye makeup off and holding him while he finally falls asleep? I need a little reverse comfort

"For heaven's sakes."

"Hn."

"Don't grouse at me. No one told you to cosplay and get beaten up all night," you sigh. Bruce was sprawled in his chair in front of his computers and looked like a mess. Proof positive that Alfred could never go on vacation again.

"I'm fine-"

"Let me guess," you hum wryly, inspecting the scratches, "Selina is back in town?"

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Fair," you answer, "Do I have to get the trauma sheers or can you stop wallowing long enough to get your armor off yourself?"

Bruce gave you a sour look but, evidently decided that it was a better choice to comply to get rid of you so he could sulk in peace. So he stripped the pieces off and waited while you surveyed the damage and the first aid kit.

"You'll have to still with concealer and spray tan until this heals if you're going to go shirtless," you muse, setting out cleaning things.

"Didn't you have a date?" Bruce snapped.

"I don't know what gave you that idea. I was in the shop."

"You should go out more-"

"You go out enough for both of us," you snort. "And you wear enough eyeliner for both of us."

"Hn."

"These don't look too bad," you tell him. "Either you got faster or she pulled back."

"I don't want to-"

"Didn't ask."

Bruce felt his frown deepen. But- he was glad it was you, and not Alfred. For all that you weren't fond of Selena, Alfred couldn't stand her.

"Wipe your face," you tell him. "You shouldn't sleep in makeup."

"It's not-"

"Yeah yeah," you sigh, "eye black. Super manly. No one cares." You hand him a make up remover wipe and then think better of it and just hand him the pack.

He took them and watched you throw discarded medical supplies away.

"After this, shower. I'll reheat a plate."

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Want a drink?"

"Please."

"Double. Got it."

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #weird kid!bruce

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apomaro-mellow · 2 months ago

Text

Two in the Bush 6

Part 5

Eddie was pretty gung-ho about the shower preparations while Billy seemed mostly ambivalent to it, which was expected. Eddie was really excitable while it was rare to see Billy get pumped for anything outside of the typical alpha stuff. Belatedly, Steve realized he should have put that on his list of things for Billy to work on and wondered how he could get him to do it.

“We gotta get this!”, Eddie came from a rack of clothes and held up a black onesie with a flaming guitar on it.

“Where did you even find that?”, Steve asked, stopping the cart.

“From the super badass baby section”, Eddie said as he tossed it into the cart.

There was no way in hell Steve was letting his baby wear that. Babies should wear soft things in bright colors with cute characters. But at least Eddie was thinking about what his future pup would wear. A stark contrast to Billy, who looked like a kid being dragged around, glowering, arms crossed.

“Isn’t the point of a baby shower that people buy this stuff for us?”

“They will, but we should get a few things ourselves”, Steve said.

“Yeah and no one’s gonna buy this for us!”, Eddie held up a little baby beanie with soft felt horns on top.

“Seriously, where are you finding this stuff?”, Steve asked, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile on his face.

Billy watched the two of them go back and forth over what a pup should and shouldn’t wear and despite it being an argument, neither seemed particularly upset or frustrated with the other. They almost seemed like they were having fun. Billy had been stuck on it for the rest of the shopping. They brought it back to Steve’s place and for now, kept the clothes in what would eventually be the nursery.

“Yeah, I can see my vision now”, Eddie said, hands on his hips as he looked around. “We’ll put the mural on this wall, I’m thinking a dragon in flight over a village. Over there’s where we’ll have the speakers and tape deck. Nothin’ puts a baby to sleep like some Megadeth.”

“I know you’re joking. But it’s still a no”, Steve deadpanned. “I’m gonna order a pizza. Maybe between the two of you, you guys can figure out some real nursery decor.”

He walked out, leaving the two alphas alone. Eddie continued to survey the room. So far, it only had a dresser. The crib was still in Steve’s room for now.

“How do you do that?”, Billy asked, although it sounded like he did so through gritted teeth.

“Hm? Do what?”, Eddie asked back.

“You disagree with him, argue with him but it’s never-you never escalate or blow up at each other. Are you just playing a game? Is that foreplay to you guys?”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “If you think that’s foreplay, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, hey, sorry dude, look, that was a legit question, right?” Eddie held his hands up. “It’s not really arguing it’s like…bickering, you know?”

“No I don’t.” Billy crossed his arms, prompting Eddie to elaborate.

Eddie leaned against the dresser. “It’s like, I’ll say things that I know will annoy him, but not make him mad. And it’s fun to watch him get worked up, isn’t it?”

It was fun to get Steve worked up. Made the sex good too. But Billy had never argued just for the fun of it. How was Eddie able to do it so easily? Eddie could see something warring inside of Billy and decided to throw him a bone.

“Look, it’s not hard. The next time something comes up, just neg him a little”, Eddie suggested.

“Hey, you guys want breadsticks with the pizza?”, Steve called out.

“Breadsticks fucking suck”, Billy replied.

Eddie’s face fell into his palms. He might need to write out instructions for this guy.

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

Billy got another chance when he was to tag along with Steve for his next appointment. It would have been all three of them, but Eddie had cars to work on. He and Billy had talked beforehand and Billy had written down Eddie’s points on a napkin to keep himself straight.

Don’t attack him directly

Annoy, not anger

Have fun with it

“Why are there all these rules?”, Billy questioned.

“They’re unspoken, but important”, Eddie had said.

He’d never felt this nervous when it came to Steve before. He was easy. Get him riled up a bit, fuck, rinse and repeat. But a pup was potential to be something new. And he didn’t want to lose Steve just because he couldn’t get with the program and evolve.

“Are you okay?”, Steve asked as they entered the clinic.

Billy had gotten pretty good at hiding his scent thanks to his childhood, so he must have slipped for Steve to be able to tell he was bothered by something. He shrugged before remembering him being emotionally stunted was a sticking point for Steve.

“Just wondering how you plan to let down Munson when we found out it’s not his.”

Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day after all.

Steve rolled his eyes. “So sure it’s yours, huh?”

Eddie’s words echoed in Billy’s head. “Sometimes, he’ll give you a real easy in. Something like a challenge. Go ahead and take it.”

Was that it? Was that an in? Should he take it? What should he say? Billy wondered if he could take the napkin out of his pocket without Steve noticing. Had it been too long for him to respond? It felt like he’d spaced out for too long. Steve’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something else, Billy inwardly panicking, when a nurse called Steve’s name.

They stood and Billy only felt half saved. Steve definitely noticed his pause. And the fact that Billy had yet to answer. They got set up in the room and the doctor did most of the talking, checking in on Steve’s health. Steve was just barely two months in, so they weren’t doing an ultrasound just yet.

Steve replied to all the doctor’s questions and Billy felt completely useless and out of his depth. He kept his mouth shut for the duration of the appointment, even as they left and got back into his car. But Steve couldn’t keep up with the odd silent treatment anymore.

“Look, are you upset about what I said earlier?”

“What?”

“Because I know it’s probably a sore spot for an alpha to have some other guy ‘challenging his claim’”, Steve used air quotes and rolled his eyes but pressed on. “But I didn’t mean it like-well, we don’t know for sure whose it is, but I shouldn’t throw it in your face like that.”

Well, it wasn’t quite an in, but it was kind of an out, wasn’t it? It was better than admitting what was really on his mind anyway. So he took the easiest escape route.

“I was kinda serious. If it’s mine, how are you gonna tell Eddie?”

Steve sighed and looked out the window. “I won’t know what I’m going to say until we find out.”

Billy wanted to press for more. It felt like there was more that Steve wanted to say. But meeting up with Max reminded Billy that one of his problems was pushing too hard and too far. If Steve wanted to play it close to the chest for now, he’d let him. Their little nugget was barely a pile of beans right now. Besides, it gave Billy some time to think about how little he knew going into the clinic today.

After dropping Steve off and getting back home, he called up Eddie.

“You’ve reached the Munson residence, home of a future baby daddy.”

“You’re answering the phone like that?”, Billy snorted.

“Hargrove! I trust the visit went well?”

“Yeah, I guess.” The doctor and Steve seemed happy enough about it. But that reminded him of the idea he got on the drive home and what he could do about how he’d felt today. Something that both he and Eddie had to do.

“How much do you know about pregnancy?”, Billy asked, leaning against the wall next to his phone.

“Uh, peen goes in hole and pup pops out? Swollen ankles and weird late night cravings? ….Tender titties!”

“We’re going to the library”, Billy decided.

Part 7

#apo writes #stranger things #harringroveson #a/b/o #omegaverse

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the-travelling-witch · 2 years ago

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𝐀𝐂𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄

summary: when the mysterious guy coming into the coffee shop asks you to join him for a concert, you hardly believe your eyes when you meet him there

pairing: idol! childe x student! barista! gn! reader

warnings: suggestive at the end, otherwise fluffy

modern au series || genshin impact masterlist

Working part-time in a coffee shop wasn’t half bad. Sure, as with every job in the service sector, some people just didn’t know how to behave themselves but there were also just as sweet interactions. Your co-worker also made stressful situations a whole lot more bearable, always ready to help you out if needed and handling even the grumpiest customers with ease. Besides all of that, as a college student basically running on caffeine, getting some insight into the business was an added plus as well.

As you got ready for your morning shift on a Wednesday like every other, you greeted your colleague and surveyed the almost empty shop. A few people were typing away at their laptops, others were reading and a steady amount of customers with to-go orders came in. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

About half an hour in, you were asked to take care of the register while your co-worker went to restock some stuff and things were going well, no fumbling with cash or mistyping any orders. The only note-worthy event of the shift was when a guy dressed in baggy clothes, a bucket hat, a mask and sunglasses came in. If you had to guess he was about your age but it was hard to say with his entire face obscured. Not thinking too much about it, you concluded you had seen weirder characters before.

Until you met him again on your Friday night shift right before closing time. This time again in an all black outfit, shaded glasses on even at that time of the day. Same thing on Wednesday as well. But when you asked if that guy was a regular you had never met before, you learnt that he’d only started showing up recently and that nobody knew much about him except for that he talked the bare minimum while being polite and leaving a generous tip from time to time. He also never showed up during rush hours, only when the shop was relatively empty.

Friday, like clock-work, he was back and when he ordered you couldn’t suppress the cheeky “One iced Americano for the mystery man” that slipped past your lips a little too quickly. The first few heartbeats after, you were terrified you had offended him, that he’d ask to talk to your manager and you’d get in big trouble for being out of line.

But then he started chuckling and pulled his mask down as he leant forward onto the counter. Hooking his pointer finger around one temple of his sunglasses, he slipped them partially down his nose and your first thought was what a shame it was to hide a face like that. Eyes as blue as the ocean and teeth as white as pearls, he looked like someone straight out of a novel, who should not exist in real life. And without his mask muffling it, his voice was smooth and melodic and it made you want to hear more of it.

“The mystery man thanks his cute barista,” he mused, lips curled into a playful grin. And then, this guy had the audacity to wink at you before sliding his accessories back into place, taking his coffee and sauntering out the door as if nothing happened. Meanwhile you were still blinking at the glass he just disappeared through.

It was just one sentence yet it was enough to pull your thoughts back to the beautiful stranger. Sure, he might not have meant anything serious by it but he called you cute for crying out loud! On more than one occasion, it had you burying your face in your hands at the memory.

So, much to your delight, the next times he stopped by, when he came up to the counter to see you working there, he always pulled his sunglasses down and generally talked more, not necessarily about himself though. It was your co-worker that informed you the guy only did that when you were working the counter, never with anyone else, and that statement had no right to give you as many butterflies as it did.

“So,” blue eyes sparkled down on you as you handed him his change, “I’ve been thinking. And I realised I hardly know anything about the pretty face behind the counter. Quite the shame, don’t you think?”

“Well, uh…” you awkwardly laughed. Pointing to your name tag, you said, “I guess you know my name already… I really don’t know what else to share.”

“Aw c’mon, don’t sell yourself short,” he smiled. “I’m sure there’s plenty of interesting things about you. Okay, let me help you out… Do you like idols by chance?”

“Uhm, I do I guess,” you tried stringing together an answer. Not really the question you expected to be honest. “There were a few groups I followed more closely but lately I’ve not been keeping up much. I’m pretty interested in music in general though.”

“I see, I see.” Leaning forward again and lowering his voice, prompting you to do the same, he continued as if he was sharing a secret. “The thing is, I have concert tickets for an idol group next weekend and I don’t feel like going alone. Care to join me?”

“Did you really spark this whole round-about conversation just to ask that?”

The guy laughed. “Maybe~ So, what do you say?”

“I-” Were you really about to take him up on the offer? No… Were you really about to reject a date with this guy? If you planned to meet at the concert hall, there’d also be a crowd around. “Sure, I’d love to go.”

“Great,” he beamed, shooting back up with energy to rival a golden retriever. “You’ll be here on Wednesday, right? I’ll give you the ticket then!”

“I can hardly wait,” you laughed, his enthusiasm contagious. “How much do I owe you?”

“Owe me? Oh please, it’s free of charge.” Before you could protest, he already held up his hand to shush you. “I have the ticket already anyway and you’re doing me the honour of your company. Really, don’t worry about it.”

That was how you found yourself trading a coffee for a ticket the following week, a sticky note with a phone number attached, the name Ajax scribbled underneath. Luckily, it was close to the end of your shift because you felt like you could explode from excitement. Walking out of the coffee shop, reality started to sink in; you were going to a concert, with a cute guy, that same weekend… You pulled out your phone and quickly scrolled through your recent calls and barely waited for the other person to greet you.

“Kaveh, I need your help with an outfit.”

Three days and a very stressful outfit and make-up session later, your entire closet had been uprooted and strewn across your room and you still had no idea who “Vizion”, the group you were going to see, was. You really wanted to check them out before the concert but, as it tended to do, life got in the way and the only info you had was that the four members were a fairly new rookie group with some sought-after trainees and a lot of potential, signed under the reputable Lapis Dei Entertainment. But that was about it.

Taking a deep breath, you checked once again if you had the ticket when the concert hall came into view. The venue wasn’t all that big, understandably so for a group still trying to grow their fanbase, and you had relatively little trouble finding the meeting place you and Ajax had agreed upon. As you waited for him to show, more and more people started filling the open space and their excited chatter and laughter was contagious, helping you calm down a little. Just when you went to check the time again, a message came in.

Ajax: I’m so sorry, I’m running late!

Ajax: Please go in without me, I’ll catch up with you later!

Ajax: Again, so so sorry!!

Okay, no need to panic. You could navigate this venue on your own and totally weren’t banking on Ajax’s expertise; this was a walk in the park, right? Yeah, except for the fact you were already struggling to make out where you had to go after passing the general entrance. Apparently a group of fans saw you staring down on your ticket in confusion and decided to take pity on you.

“Heya there!” A guy with two braids framing his face greeted you. “No offence but you’re looking a little lost. First time at a concert?”

“Uh, yeah actually,” you sheepishly replied. “To be honest, I have to idea how to get to my spot.”

“Let me take a look at your ticket,” he beamed and as you handed it to him, a blond and an auburn haired guy peeked over his shoulder as well, while their white-haired friend stood to the side giving you a friendly smile. “Oh hey, what a coincidence! We’re headed to the same area! If you want you can tag along!”

“Thanks, that’d be a great help.”

“You must have really looked forward to seeing Vizion if you’re willing to go to your first concert on your own,” the blond smiled. “That takes some courage.”

“Oh, I was actually meeting with a friend,” you said as the group started moving. “He said he’s running late though. It was his idea to come here, so I don’t actually know too much about the group performing tonight. Are you guys fans of them?”

“I guess you could say that,” Heizou, as he had introduced himself, hummed. “Actually, we know some of the members from before they debuted, so we’re here to show our support or something like that.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you,” you smiled. “They must be happy to have their friends here.”

“Well, we’ve not been in very close contact for a while,” Kazuha corrected. “Plus, they don’t quite know we’re attending. Thoma would probably freak if he did.”

Sooner than you expected, you found yourself surrounded by other people, some of whom carried signs or wore shirts with names printed on them. You recognised the name of the friend Venti and his group had been talking about; for the others you drew a blank. To your surprise, you ended up a lot closer to the stage than expected; hopefully Ajax would find you here. After all, you mainly came out to spend time with him, not to see Vizion; although going to a concert was a nice bonus.

Passing time by chatting with your new acquaintances, you found out they ran a piercing and tattoo studio not far from the coffee shop together with two more guys. Now that they mentioned it, you did seem to recall your favourite co-worker mentioning something along those lines.

Before you knew it, the lights on stage shifted and the crowd went wild, making you jump out of your skin with surprise. Then, your attention was drawn by the four figures appearing on stage. As a man with blond hair and chartreuse green eyes stepped forward, the men next to you started hollering and cheering like crazy, giving you a hunch as to who he was. Due to the rather small venue for an idol group, he could probably hear them too, making it a point to interact with the other side of the audience while his fellow members covered this one.

And then, fluffy ginger hair and azure eyes captured your attention.

There was no mistaking him. It was the mysterious guy from the coffee shop, who you’d gotten to know as Ajax, making fans scream as he winked in your general direction, a cocky grin decorating his handsome face.Waving into the crowd some more and playing along with the people gathered in the arena, it was clear he was a natural at working the crowd and capitalising on their excitement. Gathering at the centre of the stage, they formed a line.

“Look ahead! Hello, we are,” Thoma started before the rest chimed in, “Vizion! Thank you to all our Fates who are here tonight!”

The crowd broke into wild applause and shouts as they bowed, one or the other shriek of a name piercing through the noise. One by one, the members were introduced; starting by Thoma, the leader of the group, to Chongyun, the icy-haired dance prodigy and Yanqing, the long-haired wonderchild, the youngest of the group. When Thoma lifted his mic, there was only one person left to be introduced and it would be a lie if you said you weren’t brimming with curiosity.

“Last but not least, please let me introduce our ace, Childe,” the blond announced, waiting for the ruckus to die down before continuing. “Whether it’s rap, vocals or dancing, our oldest will be sure to pull you in with his siren-like voice and visuals.”

“Not to mention that he’s as loud and obnoxious as a siren too,” the guy next to Thoma quipped into his own mic, earning him a few chuckles.

Although you thought at first Thoma was exaggerating when it came to Ajax’s -or rather Childe’s- abilities, you were very quickly proven wrong. Whether it was the fast-paced lines of a verse or the moving high notes of a ballad, you were hanging onto his every word, emotions stirring in your chest and the music flowing through you. Suddenly you understood why sailors jumped overboard after hearing a siren’s song; no wonder you couldn’t get enough of his magnetic voice the first time you heard it.

Time flew without you noticing it. What felt like minutes ended up being hours of you giving a certain someone on stage your undivided attention as you couldn’t physically tear your eyes away from his smooth and fluid movements. Despite not knowing the songs, the energy surrounding you had you jumping with everyone else and picking up on the fan chant as well.

Maybe it was your imagination, but you could’ve sworn Childe was coming over to your side of the venue more often than elsewhere, winking and blowing kisses to fans around you who melted at the attention. There was a spark in his eyes as he stood on stage, as if performing had him coming truly alive and, perhaps for just a second, you envied his passion. But most of all, you were happy for him.

The absolute kicker of the show, in your opinion anyway, was when Childe disappeared backstage just to come back holding an electric guitar. Playing a few chords to tease the beginning of a song, he soaked up the crowd’s reaction before getting serious. And stars above, he was better than good. Moving across the stage past Chongyun on the drums, leaning in to share a mic with Thoma, his fingers dancing skillfully over the strings as sweat rolled down his temple, toned arms on full display, the image ingrained itself into your brain. You genuinely wondered if there was something he couldn’t do.

Sadly, every good thing had to come to an end, so eventually the artists said their final goodbyes, thanking everybody for coming out to support them, and disappeared under the stage while being showered in thunderous applause. Even as you drifted outside in the sea of people exiting the venue, your heartbeat still wouldn’t slow down as you finally had time to sort out your thoughts. The guy you planned to meet was an idol! That realisation hit you like a ton of bricks and your brain flashed you a slideshow of every possible embarrassing moment in his presence. Very helpful, much appreciated.

“Too bad your friend never showed, huh,” Venti threw out as you finally were under open skies again. “He did miss out on not only spending time with you but also on a good show.”

“Oh he’s here actually.” Not technically a lie, you guessed. Holding up your phone you added, “He just never made it to where we were but I’m hoping I can find him somewhere now.”

“You sure?” Kazuha asked, head tilted to the side. “Should we wait with you? Do you have a way to get home?”

“Oh, I’m fine really. I appreciate the concern though,” you smiled. “Thanks for everything tonight. I really would’ve been lost without you guys.”

“No problem! As long as you had fun,” Aether chimed before waving as they took their leave. “It was nice meeting you!”

“Yeah and if you ever think about getting a tattoo or a piercing, think of us!” That was definitely Heizou shouting. What a bunch of dorks.

Waiting a few more minutes so you could be sure you wouldn’t run into them again and would have to explain yourself, you got ready to leave. Despite what you said, you were well aware there was absolutely no way you could meet Ajax right now. The way home was uneventful, yet it did nothing to quell the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw an ocean blue gaze and a pearly smile. Damn it, were you really crushing on an idol? Well, technically you had been before you knew he was an idol… Shaking your head, you hoped to derail that train of thought before it could even leave the station.

Plopping down on your bed, you stared at your phone trying to figure out what to do now. What did you say in a situation like this? Where would you go from here? With a groan, you discarded your phone somewhere on your mattress and let your back hit your bed before whirling around at the sound of your ringtone. Glaring at you in the dimly lit room was the caller info of the one person your thoughts were racing around.

“Hi there~” An amused voice greeted you right as you swiped the green icon to the right. “I hope you had fun today.”

“Bold move for someone who never showed up,” you tried to tease, hoping to downplay the nerves thumping up your throat. “You’re putting in quite the effort just to get people to attend your concerts, you know. I don’t think it’s an effective marketing tactic, Childe.”

On the other end of the line you could hear chuckling. “Listen, I really am sorry for pulling that stunt on you, but I didn’t want to ruin the element of surprise of it all. I’ll think of a way to make it up to you; can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to think. “Maybe… But in all seriousness, I did have fun tonight and you did a great job. I think I’m gonna be hoarse from all the screaming tomorrow.”

The second the words left your mouth, you wanted to pull them back in. But hearing Ajax’ s smug voice confirmed it was too late as you could basically see his shit-eating grin through the phone.

“Oh really?~” Ajax drawled. “I’ll have to hear you do that again for me, perhaps with less people around.”

“You are the absolute worst.”

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#┊holly’s modern au ✩彡 #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact modern au #genshin modern au #childe x reader #childe fluff #genshin impact childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #childe genshin impact

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aspiringtrashpanda · 3 months ago

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I acknowledge that I have fallen behind, but hey, at least I'm still trying to catch up? 😅 I also acknowledge that these all started short, and yet have slowly gotten longer. What can I say? I'm a wordy bitch.

Find the prompt list HERE.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 11 Prompt: Beelzebub Ever wonder what's up with Beel's human world tattoo?

It happened the first week into devil-sitting in the human world. You were sitting at the kitchen island –a counter far fancier than you could ever afford– watching Satan attempt to use a food processor to crush graham crackers. You were looking forward to tasting his take on an apple crumble from your world. You had offered to supply him with a recipe, but after some slight consideration, he had opted to adjust his own recipe to the available ingredients.

You wanted to trust him. He was far from an inexperienced cook.

But, you also really wanted a good pie.

So, there you were, Satan hissing unintelligibly under his breath, when Beel walked in with a shopping bag bouncing against his calf. Typically, that wouldn’t be anything bizarre. This was his temporary home too, after all. You expected him to rub his growling stomach, shoot that dazzling smile your way, and then attempt to steal a bite of the apples Satan was chopping at a frankly terrifying speed.

However, when he shrugged off his rain-spotted windbreaker, you noticed something different, something new. A large gauze wrap cloaked the majority of Beel’s right bicep, stretching from elbow to shoulder.

Satan’s knife stilled as Beel slid onto the free stool at your side. Emerald eyes wide in alarm, Satan asked, “What happened to your arm?

“Hm?” Beel was already snacking on a stray apple. He had the audacity to survey his left forearm, brow creasing in genuine confusion. “Nothing?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Satan pointed the tip of the knife towards his brother, and though you knew he was simply waving the object because it was already in his hand, you really wished he wouldn’t brandish something so sharp so casually. “You’re all bandaged up.”

Before Beel could answer, Belphie was padding into the kitchen, Lucifer trailing behind him. Satan spun on his heel towards the sound, the knife switching targets to the brother that Satan was most likely to stab. The curious spark in Belphie’s sleep-dazed eyes, partnered with his absent itching of his right bicep, was clearly what had corralled Lucifer into checking on the twins.

“I had the weirdest dream,” Belphie yawned, wandering over to take a seat next to Beel. “I was sleeping–”

“Sleep-ception,” Satan murmured, catching your eye when you snickered. You had caught him pouring through critically acclaimed human world movies of the last decade in the theater room at various times over the week.

“Let him finish,” Lucifer gestured for Belphie to continue, his dark eyes fixed on Beel’s bandage with an unreadable stare.

“I was asleep, but there was this loud buzzing noise,” Belphie cradled his cheek in his palm, his lashes fluttering dangerously low. “The longer it went on, the hungrier I felt. Then, I was full and I woke up.”

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from critiquing Belphie’s story-telling capabilities. Talk about anti-climatic. However, his words did resonate with Beel, comprehension finally dawning in a small, “Oh.”

Though you waited for him to elaborate, Lucifer beat you to the punch, his gaze narrowing as he deduced, “You got a tattoo.”

Satan dropped the knife. “You did?!”

Beel blinked, meeting both of their stares before scanning the kitchen island for any other ingredients Satan required less of. “Yeah.”

You felt the rage radiate from Lucifer, felt it smother the room and dampen Beel’s energy instantly. Everything went dark. Lucifer’s eyes, Belphie’s groan, Satan’s brown sugar burning in a pan on the stovetop. It was as if a solar eclipse had occurred just outside the kitchen window.

“Beelzebub,” Lucifer’s voice boomed with authority, “How could you do something so foolish?”

It was strange to see Beel curl in on himself. Big, tall Beel. Gentle giant Beel. He was always looming over everyone, untouchable, and yet there he was, cowering as his shoulders leapt to his ears.

“Letting a human mark your skin? Allowing a human close enough to touch you, to attempt to pierce your flesh?” Lucifer hissed. You could tell he was holding back his wings from bursting out from under his jacket. It wasn’t until he continued that you then understood what he was getting at. “Did you think they wouldn’t notice? Human needles are no match for demon skin. You know that.”

Oh. It wasn’t a humans are inferior thing (you had been only mildly offended mere seconds earlier), but a we are undercover thing. Belphie and Satan, who had both decided that the marbling in the counter was simply mesmerizing, stiffened, awaiting Beel’s response.

“I do,” Beel resigned, “I asked Solomon to cast a spell that would soften my skin beforehand. The artist didn’t notice anything different about me.”

Lucifer’s dominating aura eased ever so slightly. You held your breath as he stood there, in the doorway of the kitchen, clenching and unclenching his fists. When he finally pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a heavy exhale typically reserved for Mammon and Mammon alone, you sighed in solidarity. Satan and Belphie followed your lead.

“It was a reckless thing to do,” Lucifer crossed his arms, fixed Beel with a stern glare. “A terrible risk. You could have exposed all of us. You could have posed a threat to Diavolo’s relationship with the human world!”

“I’m sorry, Lucifer.” Beel ducked his head, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he placed his hands palm-up on the counter, a symbol of surrender. “I didn’t mean to put the family in danger of being discovered.”

When his violet eyes returned from their favorite speck of graham cracker to the right of the food processor, he added, “I’ve been thinking about how our demon markings are similar to a tattoo, right? But we didn’t have any say in them.”

Belphie’s fingers flew to his right collarbone. Lucifer glanced upwards for a moment, eyes crossing slightly to Satan’s amusement, an unconscious nod to the diamond that was currently invisible upon his brow.

Beel himself rolled his shoulders and explained, “I thought it would be nice to have a mark on my skin that I could choose. A tattoo that could represent something important to me.”

That hit Lucifer directly in the heart, appealed to the sentimentality he liked to hold close to his chest. Satan regarded Beel with searing intrigue, Belphie smiling softly as he relaxed against the counter.

The argument was dropped, and Beel nudged Belphie awake, excitedly explaining that the shopping bag at his feet contained a snack Beel had picked out specially for his twin. They ran off before anyone could question further, leaving a heavy tension in the room that you had come to expect when Lucifer and Satan had to fabricate conversation.

“Hey Lucifer,” You threw out into the uncomfortable air, “You like apple pie a lot too, don’t you?”

And then you ran.

The question of Beel’s tattoo was forgotten for the most part. He didn’t often bare his arms in the Devildom, his penchant for sweaters and jackets rendering the memory of the argument irrelevant 90% of the time. Still, you thought about it on occasion. When the bandage came off and the ink was revealed to be a seemingly random arrangement of swoops, you took it upon yourself to discover the meaning behind the body art.

Was it some warped amalgamation of their sin sigils? Did it represent Lilith? Did the two arching lines have something to do with twins? It kept you up at night. Not often, but sometimes. Enough that you asked him about it more than once.

He only ever shot you a sunny smile in response.

It wasn’t until a year later, when Beel had contacted you while on an assignment from Diavolo in the human world, that the truth came out.

Beel was accompanying you grocery shopping before you would cook dinner at your tiny apartment for the two of you when he paused. “Can we stop here?”

You glanced over your shoulder to see Beel drooling at the sign for a sushi restaurant. Big surprise. Stepping off the main path before a clueless pedestrian ran into your hulking companion, you peered at the notice in the door that had caught his eye.

“Oh, they’re running the Shooting Dragon Meteor contest again,” Beel commented as your jaw went slack.

Hold on.

You jabbed your index finger at the top left of the promotional flyer. “That logo looks like your tattoo!”

And despite your shock, he simply nodded, all smiles. “The restaurant partnered with a tattoo parlor nearby. If you get a tattoo of the logo, you get free Shooting Dragon Meteor rolls for life.”

The reality hit you like a freight train, those sleepless nights rearing their ugly heads with a vengeance. Your mouth flapped like a fish out of water, your tongue failing to wrap around vowels. Your mind was moving too fast to properly formulate a sentence.

Beel was already muttering about what order he was going to place when you exploded, “You told Lucifer it represented something important to you!”

Though, a small, exasperated part of you asked, why are you surprised?

“It does.” Beel frowned, confusion creasing his brow. “Shooting Dragon Meteor rolls use a very rare, high-quality tuna that can only be fished in this area once a year. I wanted Belphie to try them, since sushi is his favorite.”

Oh, and if the whiplash wasn’t a little hard to process, then neither was Solomon’s cooking. Of course, that was just Beel in a way, wasn’t it? Of course such a shallow gesture had a deeper meaning. Of course the tattoo still led back to family.

Of course Beel would tattoo a restaurant logo on his skin to give his brother free sushi once a year.

And Beel’s enthusiasm had you wondering why you doubted him for even a second. As he exited the restaurant, a veritable feast of sushi rolls stuffed into six plastic bags, he beamed, “I’m gonna visit you at this time every year, okay?”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

#obey me month #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #beel's tattoo #i'm trying to catch up i'm so sorry

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coffeeandbatboys · 11 months ago

Text

Hold me close Mesh'la (Commander Fox x Fem!Reader)

A/N I just really wanted to write a little something about making out but not something dirty. So here y'all are.

Warnings: an argument, make up and make out, Fox being insanely clingy. Mention of Fives' death and pretty angsty. Fox tries turning grief into love as a coping mechanism.

"Mesh'la" Fox groaned, spinning your chair around and caging you in with his hands on both armrests.

Anger welled inside your chest. "Fox, for the last time, I'm kriffing busy can't you see?! I will come to bed when I'm done."

"You don't have any idea what I'm going through right now and I need help."

In any other mindset, you would have immediately switched gears and asked what was wrong, but you had a report to write and it was your top priority at the moment. Shoving him away, you grabbed your datapad and without saying a word, slammed the apartment door behind you. Deciding that the best place to work would be the caf shop down the street, you marched in that direction, angry thoughts buzzing in your head.

It was only after you'd written the last line of your report that you realized what he'd actually said.

"You don't have any idea what I'm going through right now and I need help.

Kriff. You hadn't even given him a chance to explain why he was so distraught when you'd gotten home. Were you really that focused on work that you'd neglected the love of your life's mental wellbeing?

You grabbed an extra cup of caf and rushed home as fast as you could, heart pounding in anticipation as the lift ascended into the tower.

"Fox, love?"

You found him in bed facing the wall. Little shivers told you he was crying, but knowing that you were standing right there, he tried to hide it.

You lowered your voice to a gentle whisper as you climbed in bed with him. "Kriff, Fox I'm so sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

It was silent for a moment and the shivers stopped, but then his whole body shuddered as he let out a breath.

"I killed him. I didn't mean to. I swear it was set to stun but..."

Well that was certainly not the answer you were expecting.

"Killed who?" You asked hesitantly, not sure if you wanted to know.

"Fives."

Your heart sank. You'd heard about the ARC trooper that Rex had taken into the 501st. He seemed like a nice guy from what you'd been told.

Forgoing judgment, you wrapped your arms around Fox.

"Do you want to talk?"

Shook his head before turning to face you. "Can...I try something?"

You tilted your head to survey his face in the dim light of the bedroom. It looked almost pleading, and you nodded.

He got up on his hands and knees over you, caging you in once again, before lowering himself to kiss you. His chest pressed against yours, his lips perfectly slotted on your mouth.

Maker, your racing heart could be a side effect of the late night caf coursing through your veins. Or it could be something entirely different.

You reached up and threaded your fingers into his soft hair, pulling ever so slightly at the graying strands. A groan resounded through his chest and echoed on your lips. He pulled away to take a breath and whisper 'I love you' before descending to catch your lips again. You tasted the salty tears that had fallen on his own mouth as they mixed with the sweet caf you'd had before.

In a fluid motion he grabbed your waist and rolled over so that you were perched against his chest, never once breaking the kiss. You had to admit, he was a pretty damn good loverboy.

Finally you pulled away to cradle his face in your hands.

"M' sorry I got angry with you. I was really out of place. And I'm sorry you're going through this. You shouldn't have to do it alone."

He closed his eyes to keep more tears from falling.

"Just hold me close Mesh'la. I'll be okay."

#star wars #marshall commander fox #commander fox x reader #Fox x reader #commander fox #Star wars x reader #clones x reader #The clone wars #Fives #arc trooper fives #Marshall commander fox x reader #Fox x fem!reader #Commander fox x fem!reader

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dearchloe · 1 month ago

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1 december

"I'll send you a copy of that application when I file it, anyway."

"Thanks, Jess." Ivy hung her jacket up behind the door of her office and took down her coat from the peg. The quiet and select surroundings of the chambers in Duke Street could never be called bustling, but today, late on the afternoon of a dreary Sunday when no one wanted to do anything other than curl up in front of the TV, they were the only people left in the building, and she was in as much of a hurry to get home as anyone else.

"No worries. If you wait to get it back from the court, you won't see it until January."

"It would be funny if it wasn't true." She fastened her scarf around her neck and shook hands with the other woman. "Are you heading my way?"

"The Tube station."

"Oh, I'll walk with you."

"Great." Jess finished buttoning her coat, threw one bag over her shoulder, and picked up another. If there was one thing that you couldn't do as a barrister, Ivy reflected, it was travelling light. "Ready?"

"When you are."

The two of them set out, winding their way through the dim corridors of the courthouse and making small talk which had nothing to do with their case until at last they found themselves in the fresh, crisp air of the street outside.

"Do you go over the bridge?" Ivy asked. Jess shook her head.

"I normally go through the High Street. The lights are lovely at the moment, too."

"Sounds like a plan." With a shared nod, the two lawyers turned to the left and followed the road, around the grand sweep of the corner and into the pedestrianised stretch which made up the town centre. Ivy had to admit that Jess was right. The lights, though nothing out of the ordinary, were effective in the gathering gloom of the early winter evenings, and they reflected in beautiful fractals from the rain-soaked paving below. Between the lights above and the lights below, individuals and families, wrapped in their winterwear, hurried one way or another, bound home for the evening or out for a meal, and above the quietly murmuring voices came the unmistakeable sound of Christmas music, piping from one or another of the shops lining the sides of the street.

Ivy only realised she had stopped when Jess paused ahead to look back at her with a questioning expression, and the brunette smiled sheepishly, hurrying to catch up. "Sorry. Just, it looks exactly like a Christmas card."

"It really does." The two linked arms, and continued on their way, steps falling unconsciously into time with the rhythm of I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In. "I tried taking a photo on my way home yesterday, but it doesn't show up very well. Maybe I should try with a proper camera instead of just my phone."

"It couldn't hurt."

They slowed as the road grew busier, and Jess craned her neck over the heads of the crowd to see what was causing it. "Oh, that's cute. It's Santa's Grotto, look."

"Rather him than me," Ivy remarked, gathering her coat more closely around herself. "It's too bloody cold to sit around out here all night."

"Scrooge."

"And proud of it."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Where's your Christmas spirit? Come on, this way."

Ivy, taken by surprise and already in Jess' grip, had no choice but to go with her colleague as they made a beeline across the road towards the grotto. "What are we doing?"

"We're going to get in the Christmas spirit."

The brunette eyed up the scene in front of her and did not like the obvious result. "Oh, come on. This is the kind of thing you have to be drunk to do if you're older than about seven. And I'm not drunk, Jess."

"Well, it'll make a nice change for him." The blonde winked at her, steering her to the end of the line, where Ivy made a rapid survey of her fellow queuers and decided that, excluding the parents, they were the oldest by about two decades. "Come on, live a little."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

At last, they reached the front of the queue, and Jess pushed Ivy forwards, a look of almost sadistic glee on her face. "After you."

Glaring back at the other woman, unaware of quite how stroppy this made her look, Ivy stood somewhat awkwardly beside the red-suited man who sat at the centre of the Grotto, surrounded by his retinue of elves and mumbled "Um, hi." All her erudition, so present in court, seemed to have deserted her, and she had a sudden overwhelming feeling of embarrassment. She was, in fact, tongue-tied.

The man smiled up at her from behind his white beard. Ivy had to admit that he was at least a step above the normal charity-bucket Santa. The beard might even be his own, and he had properly twinkling eyes, and red cheeks — although come to think of it, her own were probably pretty rosy in this biting cold. "Not at all, my dear." Even his voice seemed right. "Come and see Santa."

If her cheeks hadn't been red before, they were now, as she walked slowly across to the old man and perched, slightly awkwardly, on the invitingly extended knee.

"Well now, little girl, have you been good this year?"

A very peculiar feeling passed over her. Ivy felt at once very large and very small, and the old man's face seemed suddenly to be a long way above her. There was an enormous lump in her throat, and when she tried to speak, all that she could do was gulp. The barrister made a couple of attempts to offer the snarky response she'd concocted, and then, giving up, just nodded.

"Excellent!" He beamed down at her, and she squirmed on his knee, feeling suddenly immensely uncomfortable for some reason that she couldn't quite put her finger on. "Then I'm sure you'll get everything you ask for from Father Christmas. As long as you're telling me the truth, that is."

Again, all that Ivy could do was nod, and Jess grinned at her as she got to her feet, suddenly recovering the use of her legs.

"See, that wasn't so bad."

Ivy, still unnerved by the experience, scowled in a way that made her colleague take a step back.

"Shut up."

#dearchloewrites #ab dl girl #serial #countdown to christmas

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fantasyandshit · 8 months ago

Text

The tailor

Type: one shot

Pairing: Azriel x male reader

Based off of this request

I hope this is ok for my first male reader! I hope to do this justice and hope this lives up to your hopes @vampyama !

I sit at the table at Rita’s, talking and laughing with Mor, Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre when I hear the door open and the heavy set footsteps I had come to recognize anywhere. My head swivels around, eyes meeting Azriel’s- cauldron his eyes are beautiful. I can’t help but let mine trail down his body, he’d changed from whatever he was wearing on his mission, into a loose fitting black shirt that showed part of husky perfect chest, and a pair of black slacks, hugging his strong, beautiful, enticing thighs oh so perfectly.

“Azriel!” I jump up and run to hug the male, my family chuckling at my antics. I nuzzle into my mates chest, a purr of sorts leaving me. I can feel Azriel pat my head softly rubbing. “I missed you my mate.” I look up slightly, my chin sitting on his chest.

“I missed you to love.”

We love to sit at the table, hands clasped together, I can hear Cassian muttered something about ‘Lover boys.’ But happily ignore him, instead snuggling into my mates shoulder as he orders us some drinks. As we sit and talk, I think back to when I met my mate.

———

I was the tailor for the high lord and his inner circle. “Yn! Alright man, I’ll be honest. I know it’s short notice but I’ll pay double for the rush. We need dresses for all the girls and suits for the three of us,” he looks to the other males with him- I stare at the one with blue gems. Beautiful, that’s the only way to describe him. “Can you make it work?”

I take a moment to think, it’s the highlord- I have to say yes and as long as I close up till starfall I should be able to make it work. “I think I can do that. I’ll just need to take you all back for measurement updates. Although I’m already going to have to close shop so you’ll have to choose from the fabrics I have with me, I can’t import anything.” I survey the group, my eyes once again catching the beautiful male- his eyes already on mine- shit. I look away quickly as the high lord speaks.

“That is perfectly fine. Thank you so much. You will be well compensated I promise.”

“It’s my pleasure, now do you want to come back to the fitting room?” He nods, and the rest of his group follow me back to a large room with a circle platform in front of a mirror and chairs around the room. “Sir wherever, whoever wants to go first may step on the plat form now.” I gather my supplies, moving forward to take Cassian- as I’d heard’s measurements. I write his name on my notepad before getting to work, once I’m done I turn to face him. “So, can I ask what you’re looking for in this?” I write everything he says down, sketching an idea before showing him.

He smiles and nods in approval. “That’s exactly what I pictured. Thanks.” I nod, slowly making my way through the whole group, allowing them to go look at fabrics.

Lastly- Azriel I had learned, the beautiful man from earlier, steps on the plat form. I get some measurements, as I move to get his wing span, I accidentally hit one of the larger membranes.

He moaned.

He fucking moaned.

I apologize over and over, Azriel shushing me, assuring me they are just sensitive. Finally, he turns around, grabbing my arms. We make eye contact and I gasp- he does too.

“Mate.” He whispers, tears spring to my eyes- what if he doesn’t want me? He’s probably disappointed. He probably wanted some beautiful woman. He’s not gay. He can’t be right? My thoughts are stopped by his lips crashing to mine. He grabs my hips, dragging them to his, the tent forming in my pants meeting his own. Neither of us make the connection that his friends are still hear.

———

“Yn? You still there love?” I shake me head, blinking. I had spaced out, Azriel’s thumb rubs my arm soothingly.

“Oh? Yeah- yeah. Sorry love, I just spaced out.” I lean up, giving him a peck on the lips. He nods, going back to his conversation as I just marvel at his beauty.

He turns back to me, eyebrows furrowing, “Are you ok love?” It’s a whisper in my ear.

“Yeah. You’re just so pretty.” I wouldn’t be surprised if there were hearts in my eyes as I respond. He chuckles before speaking again, still a whisper. “You wanna go for a walk.”

I grin, I lived walking through Velaris with my mate, showing him off like he deserved. I nod my head vigorously, practically bouncing in my seat. “Everyone, we’re gonna head out ok.”

Everyone says some variation of ok as we leave the table, as we are walking out, I hear Cassian call, “Be careful kids- wear protection.” I laugh slightly at his antics as we leave to the street.

I swing our hands, skipping and twirling with Azriels shadows down the street, him walking behind, smiling fondly. An idea coming to mind, I dash ahead, giggling as I make it to a field of flowers. I pick a few, weaving them together insanely fast thanks to the help of my mates shadows. Finally, I finish his crown, turning back to him and placing it on his head. He smiles with me, pulling me into a loving kiss. “I love you my mate.”

“I love you too.”

—————

Okkk idk if that was what you wanted- I’m praying I did ok. Again- it’s my first time doing a male reader so I hope it’s ok.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #elain archeron #elain x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x reader #nesta archeron #nesta x reader #cassian x reader #cassian #rhysand x reader #rhysand #male reader #azriel x male reader #fluff

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iblameashley · 1 year ago

Text

Friental - My Personal Friend Rental

Civilian | Male | Gay

1,637 words Content: No warnings. First meeting at a coffee shop.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley | Male/GN Reader

!!!SFW!!!

You met him on Friental, a friend renting app. All you knew was he went by 'Si' on the app. It was a risk, but he piqued your interest, and what was the worst that could happen?

(Thanks to @loneghostwolf for permission to use this image)

You sat in the cafe, in the far back corner booth thumbing at your phone screen. It was almost time to meet this 'Si' person. You had met him on 'Friental' and he had requested a meeting in person. You didn't know much about him. Fuck, you didn't know anything about him. Job? Classified. Hobbies? Classified. Real name? Very fucking Classified. He gave you 'Si.' and nothing more to go on.

“He's a serial killer.” you mumbled to yourself with a smile.

You sipped at your coffee, the bitter taste coating your mouth. It was terrible. It was burnt and old. This place was Si's suggestion, so you worried about what else he would enjoy.

You let out a sigh and decided to pull up the Friental app and review your conversation with him. Brush up on his set of rules you had to abide by in order to make this partnership work.

1. Non-intrusive presence: You are to maintain a conversation in an unobtrusive manner, allowing me to engage with you as I feel necessary. Do not expect much engagement. 2. Respectful silence: If I tell you to stop talking, you will. We will sit in silence until the end of our appointment. 3. Confidentiality: Any sensitive information or personal experiences shared will be protected. Due to my line of work being classified, there will likely be little exchange of information on my end. 4. Mutual understanding: You should learn to comprehend my unspoken cues and nuances, know when to stop.

5. Masked Encounters: I will always wear a mask during our meetings, whether in public or private settings. This precaution is non-negotiable. You will not ask about it.

6. No Physical Contact: To ensure mutual respect and personal boundaries, no physical contact would be allowed during our interactions. This rule includes but is not limited to handshakes, hugs, or any form of touch. Maintaining a respectful distance will be paramount to the continuation of our arrangement.

“Yep. Definitely a serial killer.” you laugh.

A few moments later your table was darkened by a looming shadow. A masked man stool silently over you. He was dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans, his unruly hair poking out at the sides. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked absolutely drained.

You smiled, and your arm moved offer your hand. You jerked it back down to the table quickly.

“Not even ten seconds and I nearly broke rule five.” You said with an awkward chuckle. “Si, I assume?”

Simon nodded. “We have an hour and a half, correct?”

“We do.” You reply, motioning for him to take a seat.

He surveys the cafe and the booth. When he seems satisfied, he shuffles into the seat. His hands are shoved in his hoodie pockets and he just stars at you.

“Rule two and four already?” you joke. A curl forming at the sides of you lips.

Simon doesn't respond. He simply stares at you with his enormous, and pure brown eyes. He doesn't come off as cold or uncaring, he seems to be sizing you up. You wonder if he's not used to talking to people. You wonder if its anxiety, a few of your other clients do.

“Want to order anything?” You ask.

He shakes his head.

“At the risk of ruining this partnership right out of the gate, the coffee here is shit and you should be ashamed you asked me here.”

Simon let out quiet chuckle from under his mask. “That so, yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “Never said you had to order a drink.” His voice was keep. It reminded you of walking over gravel in thick, heavy boots.

“Fair point, mate.”

You shift the coffee cup around in you hand.

“Not much to go on with you,” you start. “No career, hobbies, favourite movies, or anything on your profile. So I have to ask... do you just want to sit in silence?”

Simon gives his head a subtle shake. “Talk to me, about anything.”

“I started out on the other end of Friental.” You admit. “I didn't really have any friends, so I spent most of my time alone. It started to weight on me. I figured 'what the hell', and signed up for the site.” You stop long enough to take a sip of your coffee. You forgot how bad it was already.

After flagging down a waitress and ordering an affogato and water, you resume your thrilling story.

“Honestly. It was shite. Garbage. I hated at least ninety percent of the people I met. I thought I could do better.” You admit with a bit of cockiness.

Simon placed his arms on the table, clasping them in a fist. You assumed this meant he was warming up to you, more comfortable around you. But he still just stared silently. He was going to be putting your claims of doing better to the test.

“Besides,” You said. “The extra income is welcome. My job isn't bad... but could always use a little more in my savings.”

The affogato arrived with the water and you were pleased to find they could at least make this drink correctly. Or at the very least, mask the mistakes with the ice cream.

“I actually like being on the other end. And not just for the money. I've met some interesting people, I keep a small list of clients that I have really hit it off with.”

You take a few more drinks of the affogato. Its bittersweet and creamy. It almost feels like this meeting. You've never floundered on a first meeting, and you're concerned this will be the first.

Taking you by surprise, Simon speaks up again.

“What do you like about them? People.”

“Rule three, I'm afraid. I can't give out their personal information either, so I'll have to keep it vague.”

Simon seemed to drink your words in. If you actually knew the man, you'd think he was impressed, or at the very least, respectful of your dedication to upholding rules. Even if they were for other people.

He gave another nod. “Understood.” he said gruffly.

“Well, one of them loves plants. Their flat is layered in them. I've never been there, but they shared photos of them with me. Told me all about them.”

You think for a minute.

“And another client is an encyclopedia. You have a question, he has an answer. Its actually rather impressive...” You have to take a moment to muse about that client. He liked to talk. You were in his position now, and 'Si' was you. You couldn't help but grin.

“I remember he spent a whole meeting just telling me about fossils. I just sat there wide-eyed as he flooded me with information. Took a few days for my brain to process it all. Very nice lad, but his need to tell you everything is sometimes off-putting to other people. Its a shame really, if people had more patience, they'd see how fun and interesting he really is.”

As the hour wore on, Simon did seem to relax to your presence. He maintained on high alert to his surroundings, though. Any unusual sound or movement caught his attention, and you could visibly see him tense until he confirmed there was no threat.

To ease the tension, you decided to ask him a ridiculous question.

“So, Si.” You leaned back in the seat and relaxed your shoulders. “If you were reincarnated as an animal, what animal would you be?”

His head jerked back at the question, and you could see the gears in his head turning. He was completely baffled by the question, but chose to play along.

“Wolf.” He said with confidence.

You must have smiled a little too wide, or maybe the laugh you thought you suppressed wasn't so suppressed after all.

“You disagree?” He tone was steady, calm, but somehow still annoyed.

“I wouldn't say 'disagree' so much as... I could picture something else.”

Simon stares at you. His eyes dance with light as he tries to burrow his way into your brain.

“A bird.” You finally say. “More specifically, a predator bird. Eagle, or Anhinga, maybe a Condor.”

You can see him huff under the mask as it pulses out. You have no idea if he took that as a compliment of not. But he's still sitting there, drilling his sight into your head. Maybe he's trying to kill you with his thoughts.

You spend that last part of your appointment with him explaining why you thought of those birds for him. You leave out the reason for the Condor was of its size. Its large, like him.

You were still talking when your phone's alarm went off, Simon's as well. The appointment was over now. Simon scooted out of the booth after shutting off the alarm. He gave you a firm nod and left.

“Good meeting you.” You called.

He left the cafe and out of your sight.

You sat there in silence for a moment. This was the most unusual meeting you had, but you were still alive. 'For now.' You jokingly thought.

Despite his seemingly cold demeanour, he never gave off the feeling that he posed any harm. He was just a quiet person.

Your phone dinged. You pulled it out of your pocket and pulled up the notification. It was from 'Si.' Opening it, you saw that he had already requested a second appointment. You stared at the screen in shock, positive you had ruined this meeting. You click accept and send him your calendar of available dates. The ball is in his court now.

You're curious to see where this will go.

#gay #lgbtq #cod #cod mwf2 #cod mw ii #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x male #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male #sfw #story #short story #one shot #writing

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