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marcsburnerphone · 10 months ago

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And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (minimal), john being slightly troubled, alcohol, reader being slightly embarrassing.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5!! -part 6

—————-

You wake up to the sun softly beaming in your room. Limbs stretching beyond the covers. You look around a little confused as to when you got back in your bedroom. Then it all came together. John, John leaves today.

You get out of the covers leaving your bedroom hoping he’s still there but of course to your disappointment he’s gone. You head to the kitchen knowing at least there will be a note.

Good morning doll, I thought of waking you but decided against it, though I might regret it. The movie was good, you seemed to really be enjoying it also:) Here's the phone number of a friend in case any problems arise. Next time I’m back I hope to see another painting - John

(xxx-xxx-xxxx) - nick

You stare at it trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. So you fold it and put it in the kitchen drawer. Although John was an awfully quiet roommate you could feel the weight of his absence. The cold floor beneath your feet has grown warm for how long you’ve stood there. You make your way towards the front door deciding that an iced coffee and a long drive with music will rid you of this feeling you can’t decipher it feels like want but in a way it’s also need but what is it you want and need? Not even you could answer that question.

Long story short you think it made the feeling intensify.

————-

1 month in

You’ve booked your schedule full leaving not an ounce of time for yourself. From the morning till night you had clients which were good for money but really it was a distraction for your mind. That same feeling felt like it was running into new veins every day seemingly consuming you.

You tried to start a new painting but something was off about the color scheme and it was a waste not only of time but material and energy. You wonder how John is.

————-

2 months in

No problems have arisen since he’s been gone. It's like the house knows you’ll call the expensive plumber instead of John’s friend.

However you have started a painting you are beginning to like. It’s a mix of hues you’ve never used before blues and oranges, a flame. You don’t know where or why the idea came to you but it’s what you wanted so you started it. A single candle is the outline, and the surrounding of it is the orange yellowish aura of a flame. You tried making ratatouille the other day and although it was good you wished it was made out of pepperonis like your childhood mind had imagined. You forgot there was no longer anyone to finish left overs so you ate it for three days straight.

Also you bought a new rug.

————-

3 months in

You’ve begun putting the final laminate on the painting. It’s taken you far longer than it would’ve if you hadn’t accepted 15 new clients. Not that you mind anyways.

You’re also a little ambivalent to the idea of John paying for 6 months of rent when he doesn’t even live here during it.

Besides that life seems stagnant and you’ve begun to lock your bedroom door at night again.

————

4 months in

The painting now hangs a foot away from where the other one in front of John’s door does. It’s a beautiful contrast and really you were overjoyed at the outcome. You also randomly decided it’d be a good idea one night after too much wine to order new furniture for the outside deck. When it arrived you were one in disbelief of all the building pieces and and two excited to have something more to do.

You should've stayed up the night John left.

————

5 months in

Redecorating the deck wasn’t enough change. You needed a makeover physically but couldn’t decide how. Maybe a tattoo? No. New makeup? No. How about a haircut? Fuck it, yes.

So you did just that, you got a few almost unnoticeable highlights and chopped a good amount off. After the fact you were obsessed. Was it impulsive and could it have gone so horribly wrong, yes. But did it? No.

———

6 months in

John’s still not back and it’s all you could think about. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t coming back? You worried yourself sick so much so you physically became sick.

You waited week by week for anything, maybe he’s back on base but just hasn’t come back home yet. But something was telling you it was more than that.

———-

7 months in

At this point worrying wasn’t going to make him appear. Your hobbies have now turned into distractions. So tonight you sit in the living room with a glass of wine and watch another rom com. You’re as comfy as can be in this cold brutal weather. It stays below 30 degrees Fahrenheit during this time of year and the snow bites at any unclothed skin.

You fall asleep to the small hum of the heater while on the couch. Thick blanket thrown across you and tv playing as background chatter.

You don’t know when you wake but it’s still dark outside when you hear someone that sounds distressed. Your groggy mind isn’t processing that the sound is coming from inside the house. But when it does you're up in a second looking around as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

“Fuck!” You hear from down the hall. John’s room.

You walk quietly towards it as he continues to chant that word. Suddenly it falls silent and you just hear what sounds to be deep breaths. You don’t know what wills you to knock, but you do.

“John, are you okay?” You ask softly from behind the closed door. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s in there from the quiet but quick breathing.

“No.” He says with that familiar deep drawl.

You open the door slowly to see him sitting on the floor near the corner of his bed clearly distressed. You take notice of the mess wondering how you slept through the making of it. There’s glass from somewhere on the floor and clothes strewn but when you look at him your heart breaks. He’s in full uniform, vest on, belt with equipment on, as if he didn’t stop anywhere. Just came straight here. His hair has grown out to an odd length and his beard has grown longer.

“I can’t get this fucking vest off.” He interrupts your thoughts looking at you with a sense of sorrow. You kneel to where he is careful to avoid glass. His eyes don’t glance up to meet yours; they stay fixated on his hands that are covered in dirt.

“May I?” You gesture towards the plastic buckles on the vest. He nods and you start with the two at his shoulders. Then you reach down his chest to undo the two near his belt buckle. You realize it must be connected somewhere in the back when it doesn’t come off. He leans forwards as you look trying to avoid the bloodstains that taint the once green vest and sure enough the tiniest but mightiest buckle is on the center of his lower back. He shrugs it off with a sigh.

“Better?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, Thankyou.” He slowly tilts his head back to lean on the comforter and you don’t move an inch.

“What can I do?” Truthfully you’ve never been in a situation so unbearably awkward but so unwilling to just leave.

“Just sit here with me.” So you do. You scoot right next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t admit it but the nights he slept in cold frost biting weather the thought of returning to your warm presence got him through.

“He almost died.” His voice gives out at the end of that sentence.

“Who?”

“Johnny, it would’ve been my fault. One second later and they would’ve put a bullet through his skull.”

“But he’s okay?” You know John loves his team even though he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“He’s perfectly fine.”

“Worrying about what could’ve been will kill you.”

“Sometimes I feel like that’s what I deserve for some of the things I’ve done.”

“If not you it would be someone else making the world a better place.”

“I know.”

You sit there with him for a while in silence. He can barely believe he made it back alive but right now the battle feels worth it. He hears soft snores not too long later and realizes you’ve fallen back to sleep. His head leans to rest above yours as he closes his eyes. He knows sleep won’t come to him but he’s never had you this close and for now he’ll cherish it.

————-

When you woke up again the sun had risen and a golden glow lit John’s room.

“John.” You whisper trying not to move your head in case he’s sleeping.

“Yeah doll.” He lifts his head to look at you.

“I’m so sorry.” You feel slightly embarrassed and bad that you just fell asleep on him.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs before standing on his feet with a groan then offering you hand to help you up.

“I’m going to shower.” He says as you dust yourself off.

“After can I give you a haircut?” He laughs a little at your not so subtle realization of his long hair..

“If you’d like.”

“I’d love.” You say before leaving, assuring him you’d be back when he's done.

You pick up your mess from the previous night. Folding your blanket and putting it back in the basket near the couch. Taking your wine glass to the sink and rinsing it out. You go to your room and change into an outfit for the day and do your morning routine. After you grab your shears, clippers and cape. By the time you're done doing all of this you no longer hear the water running meaning John’s done with his shower. You knock on his door lightly.

“Come in.” You walk in to see him sweeping up his mess with the small house broom and can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Come on, let's cut your hair in the bathroom, better lighting and you can see what I’m doing.” You say heading straight there. You sit him on the little bathroom bar stool that’s been in there since your ex moved out. Once he’s sitting the only cape you have is pink so you throw it on him begging yourself to not laugh which you fail causing him to smirk.

“Okay so I’m just gonna clean it up, fade the sides a very little, cut the top with shears and what not.” You let him know.

“You cut your hair?” He replies, staring at you through the mirror.

“Yeah so?” You smile.

“I like it, it looks good.” You feel that feeling only johns been able to provoke.

“Thankyou.” You begin the cut, slowly combing out sections making sure to be precise. He seems far more relaxed than you’d imagined as you just freely cut at the top. After the matter once you're satisfied you shave the sides a little just enough to where it looks cleaner.

“Can I do your beard and mustache?”

“You're the hairstylist, not me?” Is all he says.

So you do, very carefully, mere inches away from his face your hands hold one side of his jaw softly to trim the other side. He watches your expression intently. The way when you’re focused there’s a crease that forms between your eyebrows and your pupils blow a little wide.

“All done.” You say pulling him from his trance. You move his face with your hands really checking to make sure all is well.

“Very handsome.” You compliment before turning around to rinse your shears and put them away.

“Thank You doll.” He says examining it himself in the mirror thoroughly pleased with how well you did even though he knows you don’t cut men’s hair. He doesn’t notice you grab his beard oil from the cabinet till you're smoothing it between your hands and asking him to face you so you can rub it through the coarse brown hair. Ever the nurturer.

It feels like time apart only made you two feel closer somehow. Or maybe it’s because you wanted to be close and those feelings were equally reciprocated.

The rest of that day John had loads of paperwork to file, sign and report. So he did that, he sat in his office for long hours going through the process. The only thing that slightly lightened this burden was your voice humming in the kitchen as you cooked something. You’d stopped by and offered him some which he gladly accepted from your giving hands. Hours later you bid him a goodnight and went to bed and even then he had so much more left.

—————

The next day you catch John in the kitchen and tell him there’s something you must show him.

“So you built it all yourself?” He says as you show him your little project you did outside. There’s a thick coat wrapped around you as you don’t fully step outside to avoid slipping on the icy ground. Him though, he stands on it with no problem in what looks like military issued boots.

“Yes I did.” You say proudly despite his clear disdain.

“I missed you, even your stubbornness.” After the months John’s been through there was no point in hiding the way he was feeling.

“I missed you too.” You smile while clearly avoiding his gaze.

How had he missed this all along?

“Would you like to go out for drinks?”

“What?” You turn around to meet his eyes.

“Can I take you out for drinks?” What being mere inches away from death does to a man.

“Yeah.”

You both silently walk away trying to break the bounds of the tense pull that makes you want to gravitate towards each other. You put on something cute but also warm and slip on some brown doc martens as your choice of shoe. You do light makeup as you give yourself a pep talk.

“Only two drinks, only two drinks.” You have to tell yourself cause after two your too you.

You hear John putting his shoes on by the hallway and take in the sight of him, brown leather jacket and beanie. You’re not sure how he’s going to stay warm in that but something tells you he will.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod nervously.

“Okay, hold on, I have to do this really slow or I’ll fall.” You say stepping slowly out onto the ground below the porch stairs.

“Well come here I’ll help you.” He offers his hand. You grab it softly, swooning at the way it encompasses your own. There’s something inside of him that doesn’t even want you to risk walking on this floor but of course he also doesn’t want to push.

“Okay nice and slow.” You’re not even taking full steps, just small slides. You clutch his hand for dear life and he loves it.

“Good girl.” He says once you reach the door of his truck which he opens for you. He doesn’t let go till you sit inside then only does he slip his hand from your warm one and closes the door.

“Which pub?” You ask as he turns on the heater only for your sake.

“The one downtown near the little Italian grocer.” You know exactly which one he’s talking about. Its dim light atmosphere is cozy but fun but usually full of mainly couples.

“Mkay.” You say looking out the window at the gloomy sky realizing it just might rain.

He glances your way during the small drive, your scent of your floral perfume mixed with his of cardamom and musk is quite perfect.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, just comfy, you?” He grins at your response.

“Never been better.”

He pulls into one of the street parking spots and despite the weather the streets are full, he gets out to put coins inside the slot for time before heading to your side of the car.

“Wait, I'm scared.” You say realizing that the distance to the bar doesn’t seem to be a survivable one.

“Come on, I'll hold your hand.”

“I’ll fall regardless.”

“Want me to carry you?” He genuinely offers.

“What?” You laugh.

“Doll I’m very serious I will carry you, just get on my back.”

“What if we both fall?”

“I’m not falling, trust me.” He says turning around motions for you to get on his back.

“Okay then.” You hook your legs around his upper waist and his arms reach to tuck themselves firmly beneath your knees.

“Comfortable?” He asks. He’s sure you can hear his heart racing from the proximity you’re in.

“Very.” All your dreams of climbing this man have come true.

You shut the door as he steps onto the sidewalk. You tuck your chin in by his neck for warmth. He smells woodsy with a hint of musk, it makes your head spin.

“How are you not slipping?” You say very suspicious.

“Doll I could run on this floor with these boots on.” He answers looking slightly over his shoulder at you.

“Well don’t.” You say seriously and he laughs as he approaches the bar, opening the door and setting you softly on the floor.

He finds you both a booth in the corner and sits on the side where he can see the entire bar, very John of John.

“What do you drink?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Suddenly the air feels very intimate, almost too intimate for what he considers his old man heart.

“When I’m out, martinis.”

“Espresso?”

“Mhmm.” You’re trying your hardest to hold the eye contact he’s giving you but something about the blue in his eyes and creases on the side of them has you breaking it quicker than it started.

“I’ll be back then.” He says sliding out of the booth feeling slightly accomplished.

You sit there looking at the lively pub, how many romances are at their peak here, how many friends are having the best night of their lives, how you amongst them are finally feeling like you again.

“Here we are.” He says returning with two glasses, his is a classic bourbon with a square ice cube in the glass.

“Thankyou.” You say as he slides it over to you.

“So what’d you do while I was gone, other than be reckless and build furniture.” He asks as you sip from your glass.

“I did lots of hair, painted a bit, found new color schemes for decor and that’s kinda it, I’d ask you the same question but I fear you can’t answer.”

“Your fears are true.”

“That Kate woman, she's very pretty.” Are you a little jealous?

“Yeah she’s also very married.” He says it like he doesn’t know what you're on about.

“And also not into men.” You nearly choke on your drink and swallow hard to get it down.

“Well I was just saying.” Sure you were.

You two have small chatter as you go through drinks. You tried to offer the second round but John said no for you to just stay in your seat. He came back with thirds and you definitely were starting to feel the effects of the previous two, him though not at all.

“So you’re telling me John you as very um good looking as you are haven’t had a girlfriend in how long?”

“Eight years.” He says while being very amused with your light hearted, open attitude.

“That’s just not right.”

“No?”

“No, personally, well never mind.” You’re not drunk enough to say what you were about too.

“What about you, why no boyfriends?”

“I’m very, I would say needy I guess clingy even, I’m a double texter, someone who worries and loves too much and I think that can be overwhelming for a lot of people.” You admit.

“Don’t believe that.” He says, sounding a little annoyed.

“For the right person you could never be overwhelming.” He says looking at you intensely and this time you can’t seem to look away.

Once your third drink is finished it’s raining outside and you’re words away from trouble.

“John?”

“Yeah doll.”

“You make me feel alive again.” You admit, the alcohol has casted a pretty shade of pink on your cheeks as you lean your head on your hand and John doesn’t think he’s ever been more entranced.

“You and me both, here drink some water.” He slides it to you. You’re sweet, too sweet. He feels like if he touches you physically or emotionally he’d be tainting art.

“Has anyone told you you're very climbable?”

“It’s time for us to get going, you're quite the light weight.” He laughs offering you a hand as you slide off the booth.

He leaves a tip on the table before walking with you to the door. He has to bend far more than he normally would for you to secure yourself on his back before he’s walking outside. This time he’s walking faster because of the rain droplets that are falling hard. He seats you in the car and reaches across you to buckle you in before heading to his side.

The drive home is pretty quiet, he drives extra slowly because of the precious cargo he carries. Once he pulls back into the gravelly drive way you unbuckle and open the door as he puts the car in park.

“You don’t want to wait for me.” He asks, a little concerned.

“I got this.” You hop out of the elevated truck immediately slipping and having to grab onto the door. He walks quickly to your side laughing at the expression on your face.

“You sure do.” He says as he grabs your arm

“Oh stop it.” You say accepting the help, sliding your feet on the ice again till you get to the door. Once you get inside you groan into the toasty air.

“Thankyou for tonight John.” You say facing him once you kick your boots off. You hadn’t realized how close you were till you turned around and could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the bourbon on his breath.

“No, thank you.” He says feeling awfully captivated, hanging onto your every move. You cup his face and stand on your tippy toes, boldly yet slowly placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He’s starstruck. Absolutely dazed at the look of mischief in your eyes, something that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Goodnight John.” You say patting his chest and walking down towards your room.

—————

I couldn't wait till tommorrow i'm sorry.

comments and reposts are greatly appreciated:)

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#angst #captain price x female reader #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley

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quantum1mmortality · 20 days ago

Text

Rubatosis;

The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat

•Captain Curly x reader

Chat bare with me I'm trying out a new aesthetic because I'm sick and tired of my blog being UGLY and CHAOTIC so I'm using dividers and sticking to a color scheme for the first time don't judge me pls

Summary; Winter storm, blackout, no heater; the worst things that could've happened on your only weekend off. Luckily, your boyfriend Curly knows how to keep you warm.

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, pre established relationships (you guys are dating), cursing, the word 'radiate" is used like 20 times don't mind that chat, no use of y/n just curly calling you various pet names, no prep like at all(slight fingering????), curly whimpers, the smut is actually really unnecessary but ignore that too, piv, pwp??, unsafe sex, cumming INSIDE!!!, praise kink, curly talks you through it (I think)

Not proofread

You curl up with as many blankets as you can, shivering and watching your breath become visible from the cold. You can feel your body go numb as all you can do is wait for your power to come back on. It's been out for the past hour, and with the awful snow storm that just rolled through your town, you can tell it isn't coming back on anyime soon.

Sounds come from outside your window, sounds that you can barely hear over the cold chattering of your teeth. A car parking in your driveway, a car door opening and closing, and heavy feet making their way to your front door, shaking the doorknob while trying to open it.

The door creeks open, followed by the sound of heavy winds. You can hear footsteps walk into your house, closing the door, and walking towards the bedroom you now reside in.

"Sorry about the wait, love. I tried to leave work as soon as I heard about the power outage, but thought it would be best to stop somewhere to get some things to warm you up." It was your boyfriend, Curly, who you had no idea was coming over. Yet here you are, shaking in a cold bed as he roots through the bags he brought with him.

As he digs through the bags, seemingly looking for something specific, he throws miscellaneous items on your bed. Chocolates, a candle, a box of matches, more chocolates, and a bottle of wine. "Since we're basically trapped in here till the storm is over, I thought we could make the most of it. Have a romantic weekend or something.. I tried getting things I knew you'd like."

Just then, he finds what he was looking for; hand warmers. Ripping open the packaging, he walks to your side of the bed, handing you all that was in the box. The heat radiating from them was almost hurting you, but burning doesn't feel so bad when you're freezing.

Curly leaves the room for a moment, coming back with two wine glasses in hand; placing them on your bedside table. He takes off his work uniform, leaving him in only an undershirt and pants. You hold out your arms to him, signalling that you want him to be in bed with you. He smiles, lifting up the blankets and laying next to you.

You shiver, feeling his warm hands touch your cold body. "Poor thing.. I wish I could've been here sooner, maybe prevent you from getting to this state." He says softly, kissing your forehead as he raps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"I'm glad you're here.." you say, dozing off. The warmth Curly radiates was more than enough to make your body become less tense. Your hands make their way to his chest, pressing gently as you bury your head in the crook of his neck.

"I know you are, love, and I'm glad to be here, too." He whispered softly, hands traveling from your waist to your hips. He lifts your shirt up slightly, moving his fingertips to your now exposed skin. "Fuck, you're freezing." You could hear the concern in his voice, switching from just his fingertips to his whole hand. "Does that feel better? Are you warmer now?"

You nod. Everything about him was warm, a stark contrast from how cold you currently are. Any part of him that was directly touching you was doing wonders for your current state. "Use your words, love." Even when you're freezing, Curly will still find a way to tease you. This world is so cruel.

You sigh, "yeah, that feels better. Thank you." He smiles, happy with your answer. He pulls your body closer to his, your chest flush against his own. His fingertips move in a circular motion, trying to keep you calm. Which, to his credit, is working.

With the warmth of your beloved boyfriend mixed with the light musk scent of the cologne he always wore, you were falling asleep quickly. He could feel your eyelashes flutter shut against his neck, followed by your soft breathing hitting his skin. He presses a small kiss on your forehead, pulling you just the slightest bit closer to himself before dozing off.

Your eyes slowly open, groaning out as you realize it's still cold in your room. You try to back away, but Curlys grip on you tightens. He shifts slightly as he begins to wake up, hands moving from your waist, to his eyes, to your waist again. "Good morning, beautiful.. lovely seeing you here." He says in a raspy tone, indicating he just woke up.

You smile, curling back into his grasp. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You say in an almost hushed voice. He chuckles, placing a small kiss on your cheek.

"No worries, love. Just more time I get to spend with you." He chuckles, burying his head in the crook of your neck; kissing every bit of exposed skin he could in the process. You laugh, squirming in his arms, but his grip on you only tightens.

"Curly- stop-" you get out between giggles.

He lays one final kiss just below your ear, letting out a heavy sigh; now out of breath. He places one of his hands on your chest, just below your collar bone. His fingertips trace up the skin of your neck, stopping to grab your chin, lifting it up slightly.

Your eyes meet with his and he leans in for a kiss. It was soft, gentle, everything he was condensed into a simple act of affection. It was perfect. His hands fully cupping your face, pulling you in so he can deepen the kiss further.

Your hands their way to his scalp, his hair curling between your fingers as you gently pull. His mouth opens for a split second, letting out a small whimper at the new sensation. His kisses become slightly sloppy as he begins to sit up, flipping you so your back is now pressed against the bed. He places himself between your legs, breaking the kiss so he can trail small kisses and nibble down your neck.

As his hands wander down your chest, to your waist, and eventually to your hips, he sings small praises to you in-between each mark he lays on your neck. His fingers go under the seam of your panties, slipping them off of you with ease. With one hand keeping your legs open, the other traces up your inner thigh, slowly inserting one of his digits into your aching heat.

"Curly~" you gasp, your hands locking behind his neck as a way to ground yourself. Just then, he slips another in. The feeling of his cold fingers curling inside of you sent shockwaves through your body.

Curly takes his fingers out of your cunt, lifting his head from your neck to lick off the slick that remains. You whine at the empty feeling, small tears forming already. "Crying already, love?" He says with a smile. He lines his cock to your entrance, the tip prodding at your hole. He lowers his body back down to yours, "forgive me, dear. Sorry if this hurts." He whispers in your ear.

Your hands go back to his neck, going up to grab his hair again. You cry out as you can feel him stretch your insides, pulling at his hair even more in the process. Curly grips the sheets beneath him, his hand quickly moving to your waist to hold both you, and himself down.

As he can feel you reach your limit, he stops, holding still for a moment. "Are you alright? You're not too hurt, are you?" He says, raising his head to look at you.

"Y-yeah.. it just hurts a bit.." you trail off. He sighs in relief.

"I know, love. It's going to. I wish there was more I could do, but I promise it'll be worth it. Alright?" He smiles, kissing away the small tear lines on your cheeks. You smile back, coming your fingers through his hair gently before moving your hands to rest on his back instead.

He takes a deep breath, slowly moving his hips backwards before meeting with yours again. His steady thrusts help you adjust to his size better, but it only leaves you wanting more.

"I'm gonna go faster, alright?" He says, nearly out of breath. You nod. He increases his speed, going faster than you had anticipated. You cry out his name, digging your nails into the skin on his back. "I know, love, I know." He whispered.

More tears stream down your face as the pain quickly turns into pleasure. You moan with each thrust, nails still digging into his back. Curly whimpers at the feeling, "fuck- just like that, you're doing amazing, love~" he says in a soft, out of breath tone.

You can feel yourself getting closer as your legs instinctively close around his hips, inadvertently pushing him deeper inside you. You try to speak, but the words just won't come out. "Curly- I-" you stutter, not being able to think straight because of the pleasure.

His pace doesn't falter, though. His hands move to your thighs, holding onto them with force in an attempt to not go any rougher than he already is. Your cries and moans become louder, chanting his name as if it were a prayer. You feel the knot in your stomach come undone, your back arching and head thrown back. With one final moan, you can feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, followed by your slick soiling the sheets beneath you.

"Just a little longer, love. You've done so well for me this far, I'm sure you can hold out a bit more." Curly praised, continuing his pace. His hands grip your thighs tighter, leaving crescent shaped marks on your flesh. With one more deep, rough thrust, he moans out your name, releasing inside of you. He collapses on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder as you both try to catch your breath.

"Are you.. still cold?" He whispered softly.

You smile, "no. Not at all."

A/N; this would've been out two days ago but the new stardew valley update came to console and I've been GRINDING that shit. Also, the title was supposed to make an appearance in the fic. Right before the smut starts, when curly puts his hand on YOUR 🫵 chest, I was gonna add some dialogue like, "your heart is beating fast.. do I make you nervous?" But I thought that was cringe and cut it out.

#mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x reader #captain curly x reader #curly x reader smut #curly mouthwashing #curly x reader #mouthwashing #this made me realize how much i hate writing one shots #sometimes when im writing smut i forget what words are publicly acceptable to use #so i just get vague or use words i THINK would be publicly accepted #i like drinking white milk does that make me weird #it might #does anyone read these?

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yangwns · 4 months ago

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silent stalker – part one

parts: 1/?

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

warning: suggestive content, smoking, mentioned blood and weapons, swearing

genre: dark romance & thriller

summary: you are a quiet girl who's enjoying your summer vacation. your favorite place is the library to read books and to see the shy boy who works there. but little did you know that the shy boy was obsessed with you.

this is the written version of "silent stalker" on tiktok by @yangwns.

The soft hum of music was heard inside your bedroom. Warm sunlight bathed your walls and clean bedsheets with a soft vanilla color. Your feet swayed gently in the air as you lay on your stomach with your eyes focused on your laptop screen. The sunlight inside your bedroom was comforting, different compared to the searing heat of outside. It was late July, college was just around the corner. You were writing a blog on your laptop, it was like a diary to you. Everyday, you would write about how your day went, what you feel, or even up to what your inner desires were.

Inside your ears, you could hear The Neighborhood's "Sweater Weather" playing. As you worked on your blog, you could see a cup of ice from the corner of your eye. You hoped that the ice would melt in this summer heat, it didn't. The particles of water dripped from the cup, creating a small puddle of cold water around it. A sigh pressed against your lips, your idea to pass your time on your blog until the ice melts was a bad idea. Your eyes drift to the time, 4:35 PM. You couldn't help the feeling of the corners of your lips curling into a soft smile, it was time. It was time to go to your favorite place, the library.

You jump off your bed and get ready to go to your local library. When you get up from bed, you quickly get dressed in whatever you could find in your closet. You were wearing a grey jacket over a simple white t-shirt and high waisted shorts with the classical black chuck taylor tennis shoes. As you left your house, you begin to think why you thought it was a great idea to wear a jacket in the summer. When you start walking, you start to feel your skin become sticky from the humidity outside. The fabric of the jacket sticking to you. But you weren't going to take it off. The jacket you wore was an oversized grey jacket, the musk scent of wood still imprinted on it. It reminded you of him, Park Sunghoon, your ex.

Your thoughts were now on your ex, tears pricked inside your eyes as you thought of him. But all of those thoughts faded when you came across the familair building in front of you. Your feet came to a stop when you see the library, trying to collect yourself before going inside. The emptiness you once felt melted when you thought about your only love, books. But also, the thought of seeing a particular worker. Your cheeks reddened at the thought of him. You didn't know his name or who he was because you were too shy to ask for his name.

You open the door to the library, the sound of a bell chiming rang inside your ears. A gust of air welcomed you as soon as you opened the door. The gust of wind made your long black hair sway, tendrils of hair flowing gently. It made you squeal, feeling surprised at the gust of wind. You suddenly feel your cheeks burn as you hear the hiss of a shush inside the library. Typical librarians. You purse your lips, shoulders caving in at the embarrassment and walked inside.

You start walking inside and are completely mesmerized by the library. You've been hear thousands of times but it never fails to leave you in awe every single time you step inside. You loved the smell of new books, the pages smelled ike a new car. You also loved the soft glow of the lights hanging in different locations. The different color scheme of books was like a piece of art to you. Your feet wandered inside, eyes searching for a new book. The more you searched, the soon did realization hit you that you had no clue where the new released books were. You had walked passed the same isle for the fourth time and still hadn't found that section of books.

You clutch your book bag, determined to find the new books. But after minutes of searching, there was no result. You were at an open space of the library, the middle of it all. You could see every isle and bookshelf from here. You were about to turn to the same isle in which you had come back from when you see a young man sitting at a table. For a split second, you could've sworn that everyone had heard your heart drop. You take a good look at him and see that it's him. The only quiet worker in the library.

His eyes were focused on the laptop screen in front of him, gaze piercing. The man was like a character from the books you've read. But except, he was real. His long slender fingers worked on the keyword, fingertips gently tapping the keys. He had dark hair that framed his slim face, strands of ink hair falling over his glasses. Lips glossed by his tongue, full and almost the same shade of pink like his tongue. He was wearing a white cotton t-shirt, black trousers, and over his t-shirt, a dark blue denim jacket. This man was literally the personification of every single male lead of every book imaginable.

Should I ask him? You ask yourself.

Your mind was pondering whether you should go up to him and ask him for help. Meanwhile your brain was working, your legs were already walking towards him. You wanted to scream at your legs to stop taking action but you now find yourself standing in front of this man. You look down at him, lips quivering as you finally muster the courage to ask. Your heart crept lower, you slowly start to think that your heart is now lying on the ground from the heavy weight you feel on your chest.

"Uhm, excuse me?" You try to get his attention. "Do you know where the new books are?"

And so, you stand there looking like a fucking idiot when the guy doesn't even move a muscle. Your cheeks start to feel hot as you reach out to tap the wood of the table with your fingernail. "Hey. . ."

You suddenly jolt when you hear a soft "huh" coming from the man. The man's eyes were wide, taking something out of his right ear. It was an airpod. His cheeks were a bright red, actually, his whole face red. A pair of dark brown eyes were now locked on you, trembling. Your eyes locked for a second until you hear the loud music coming from his airpod. It was Chase Atlantic's "The Walls". You watch him fumble with his laptop and earbuds, trying to stop the music from playing. When the music stopped, his eyes went back to you.

"W-What do you n-need?" He stuttered, his eyes were now avoiding yours.

"I was wondering if you could help me find the new released books." You answer coyly.

The bashful boy looks at you and nods, rising from his chair. When he stands, he towers over you. He walked past you, catching a whiff of his perfume. You followed him through a long path until you stopped at bookshelf. The boy had his finger up in the air, you looked up and see a sign 'new releases'. You bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck out of the embarrassment. You wanted to run away for looking stupid in front of such an attractive man. But you remained silent, a shy smile on your lips.

You turn to the bookshelf of the new releases and start searching for a book. You wanted to keep your mind away from the quiet stranger, so you kept yourself occupied by looking for a book. Your fingers traced the spines of the books, gentle with them as if each book was a piece of glass. You find a book that catches your eye and reach out to grab it. But when you reach out, another hand reaches for the book as well. Your hands grazed each others, warmth surrounding the side of your hand.

You quickly remove your hand with a sharp gasp. You let the boy take the book, your eyes staring at his fingers. His long fingers clasped around the spine, his pointer finger was extended out. A rose tattoo wrapped around the finger of his right hand, reaching close to the knuckle of his thumb. You find yourself staring a bit too hard to even notice that the book was being handed to you. As soon as your hands reached for the book, a soft chuckle was heard. You look up and see him smiling gently.

"Heeseung. My name is Lee Heeseung." You hear him say, his voice slow and careful.

You stare at him, heat rising across your face. "My name is Y/N."

Heeseung nods in acknowledgment, the corners of his lips quivering as he tried to contain his smile from you. He motioned you to follow him, taking you to the check out desk. When you reach the desk, Heeseung walks behind the desk and checks the book out for you. He is quietly working on the book, stamping the return date on the back of the last page. When he finishes, he returns the book to you with a sheepish smile.

"I didn't think you were into these books." He tells you softly, looking at you with this look inside his eyes that made you freeze.

"I'm sorry?" You ask, feeling flustered.

You looked back at the book and read the title, "Toxic". It was by a New York Times best selling author, Nicole Blanchard. The book was a dark romance book that tied with obsession, passion, and secret desires. Your teeth bit down on your bottom lip, chewing gently as you feel your cheeks warm. You hold the book closely to you and wait for Heeseung's response. He looks at the book and back at you.

"I mean–I didn't think that you would be into dark romance." Heeseung tried to explain himself.

"I'm really not a fan." You say, shrugging.

"What's your favorite genre?" Heeseung suddenly asks you, his voice soft.

"I like slow burn romance." You reply, your fingers grasping the book.

Heeseung walked around the desk to face you. "You should give this book a try. You'll never want to put the book down."

You nod and watch him go back to his work space. Your eyes are on Heeseung for a few seconds, your thoughts running. You shake away your thoughts and find a seat. When you find your seat, you open the book and begin reading. As you read, you couldn't help but feel immersed by every word in the book. Each word made your skin tingle, heat enveloping around your neck and slowly creeping up your toes. It was only you and your book, everything else fell away. But it all came to an end when you hear a voice.

"Y/N, i-it's time for me to close the library." Heeseung told you as he held a pair of keys inside his hand.

Your eyes snap up to see Heeseung by the door, looking at you. When you turn and look at your surroundings, you notice that there was no other soul inside the library except you. Every single light had been turned off except the light hanging above you. You look over to the window and see that the sky was now dark and taunting you. A soft sigh left your lips, it happened again. You had lost yourself in the pages of your book that you hadn't checked the time.

You get up from your chair and start gathering your belongings. When you gather all of your things, you approach the door where Heeseung stood nearby. "I'm so sorry."

Heeseung only smiled and let you walk before him outside the library. He locked the library doors and sees you walking ahead of him. You walk away without saying goodbye, your heart was pounding inside your chest and you couldn't think straight. Your legs took you far to reach your house. And when you reached your house, you ran up the stairs and plopped yourself on your bed. You open your laptop and create a new blog post. Your fingers started to write your minds thoughts, cheeks burning profusely. You couldn't stop think about Heeseung. He was inside your head, unveiling unknown desires inside you that you never knew you had.

Today, I finally spoke to the boy who works at my local library. When I first saw him, I couldn't help but feel this attraction. He pulled me inside and now, I can't get him out of my head. Ever since I saw him a few months ago, he's all I think about.

I think about his scent. It's a warm musk scent that lingers on me, at least I think it does. The scent evokes memories of the ocean. It lingers subtly, yet profoundly coming. The lingering slowly grows and gives into a warm and deep musk. His scent is almost intoxicating, it makes me want to be closer to him.

I also think about his eyes. He has these large doe eyes that appear to be pleading for something. They are dark and alluring. And his lips, oh. . . God. His lips are breathtaking, full and inviting. They are a contrast of soft and intense, promising tenderness and unspoken desires.

Everything about him is tempting.

You let out a long sigh, your whole body relaxed as you let out all of your pending thoughts of the day. Slowly, your eyes became heavy and your whole body gave into the comforting scent of the clean bedsheets and coolness of the pillow below your head that melted the heat away from your skin. As you slept, the night continued. Your laptop remained open, the screen was still on. A notification filled your room, it was a comment on your recent blog.

If you're being tempted. . . would you still go to him? If I were you, I would let myself be tempted and not resist such a fatal attraction. — commented by darkr0ses_

#heeseung #heeseung ff #heeseung imagines #imagine #lee heeseung #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung icons #enhypen icons #enhypen x reader #stalker bf #obsessive love #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut

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wallpaintsforyourhome · 1 month ago

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Brighten up your home with a splash of sunshine! Get inspired by these vibrant yellow paint ideas for every room, from sunny kitchens to cheerful bedrooms.

#wall paint #color scheme #interior decor #exterior wall paint #bedroom ideas

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milliesfishes · 4 months ago

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Just a little idea for something to write about Coryo. <3 You've heard the rumors about how he rose to power. You saw first hand the way he cheated in the games. And you knew Lucy Gray didn't go missing by coincidence. But Coryo was still your husband, and the man you knew was so violently different from the president the world sees him as. So one night whilst reading in his study you confront him on what your marriage really means to him. Scared you might be another pawn in his rise to the top. Even if the marriage was arranged, you'd come to believe he loved you the same way you loved him.

౨ৎ꣑ৎHeart Shaped౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: mentions of wrongdoings pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: married to coriolanus snow, you're forced to ask the question, 'real or not real?' author’s note: thank you so much for this anon! love love writing for coryo <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The rumors of somebody almost make up an entire person before you meet them.

Your red-tinted, rose swallowed husband was a prime example of such thinking, swirled in mysteries and secrets from days before you had ever known him. The rumors followed him and spread like a wildfire, whispering things into your ears that you were too afraid to stop and consider.

On his arm as his beautiful, effervescent First Lady, you wouldn't even dare dream of asking him about anything you'd heard. There was so much of his past that you were suspicious about purely because of what you'd heard. But you never darkened his doorstep with questions that would surely make you come across as innocent and prying.

And besides that, it wasn't like you had any reason to truly believe them. The persona he inhabited as the president was a stark contrast to who he was with you. It was like night and day.

Even though your marriage had been arranged- a true political scheme to send him propelling to the top- he treated you as though you had dotted every star in the sky. Coriolanus spared no expense whatsoever to keep you comfortable and happy, showering you in the best of everything.

A week before the wedding, when you were in the midst of your hurried planning of last-minute details, a box of catalogues had been delivered to your door, alongside an envelope with a note telling you to pick out the decor for your bedroom in the presidential mansion. Underneath the note was a platinum credit card bearing his name.

It was a grand time deciding on each detail of your new room, and that wasn't even the end of it. You were taken shopping the very next day, to some of the most high-end boutiques you'd ever entered. The assistant who accompanied you assured you that the president wanted you to have lots of new, pretty things, all befitting the First Lady. You left armed with an army of shopping bags filled to the brim with dresses and shoes and jewelry, amazed at the generosity of your husband-to-be.

After the wedding you'd half expected him to be distant. His duty was now fulfilled, and he was free to ignore you, to lock you in your lovely new room if he so desired and keep to himself. But it wasn't like that at all.

Coriolanus was truly with you more often than not, coming to your bedroom after a long day of work to ask you about your day. If you'd gotten your nails done that day (he insisted you go at least once a month) he'd pick up your hand to see, fawning over the color and kissing your knuckles with a fond look up at you.

You would nearly always spend evenings at his side, often reading beside him while he went over documents, sometimes even sitting in his lap if he asked. Your husband asked you questions about what you were reading- usually a classic book of some kind. It always felt like he was interested in your thoughts about the content of what you were reading.

"Juliet was an unstable girl who chose to make a reckless decision," he insisted after you shared your views with him on the play you were reading one night. He was sitting in his desk chair with you on his lap, straddling his thighs. One of Coriolanus' hands was settled on your waist, the other propped on the back of his chair as he played with his own hair. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up. He didn't look like the intimidating president everyone thought he was.

Shaking your head, you protested. "No, she was smart. Juliet knew she didn't have many options being a woman of that time. She was going to have to get married no matter what and I think she decided she may as well do it to try and end a feud that was affecting her family in precarious ways."

The smallest of smiles came to his face as he looked up at you in awe. "But she didn't have to die."

"No, probably not," you remedied, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. "But she's entitled to an impulsive decision every now and then, isn't she?"

"She died." Coriolanus shook his head, but he was smiling. You didn't know if he did it much around anybody else because he did it in a way that made it seem like he wasn't used to it. Still, you found it no less endearing. "That's a rather big thing to be impulsive about."

"Well I can't argue with that," you smiled, and he brought his hand on your waist to your back, pulling you closer into him. Coriolanus always touched you like you were a flower, handling you the same way he did one of his family's precious roses. The way he looked at you made you feel like a treasure.

One day when you were sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair, you noticed through your window that there was a new addition to the garden. Standing up to take a closer look, you saw a newly planted row of dusty pink roses close to your window. When you opened it, you could see that the vines were crawling up a trellis positioned right by your bedroom's place on the second floor, the pink buds just barely beginning to bloom.

Gasping in delight at the new flowers in your favorite color, your hand flew to cover your mouth as your heart beat in a new time. Though it was true that the roses ranged in color, the majority of them tended to be either white or red. But these pink ones took up just as much space as them, it looked like; not confined to the smaller patch with the other colors.

"Do you like them?" You turned to see your husband standing behind you, somehow not looking even a little bit out of place in your rosy bedroom. His hair looked a little messier than it had when he left this morning, and he wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore.

Your face split into a sweet smile. "I love them. Did you plant them just for me?"

"Of course, darling," he murmured, moving forward and lifting your hand to his lips. Your heart fluttered at the action, and you couldn't help the delicate blush that spread over your cheeks.

"They're so beautiful, Coryo, thank you," you smiled, twining your arms around his neck. He encircled his own arms around you, kissing the side of your head.

"You're very welcome," he muttered, inhaling the scent of your hair, and then there was a pause. He pulled back slightly, tucking a strand behind your ear. "New shampoo?"

"Rose scented, in fact," you tilted your head, trying to gage his reaction. "Is that alright?"

Something in his eyes changed, and he nodded, that familiar little smile residing on his face. "It's wonderful, sweetheart. I love it."

The fact that he'd noticed something so seemingly small made your heart nearly burst, and the feeling stayed with you all through the night.

You decided right then that the rumors and whispers were wrong. They had the wrong man. Your Coryo would never do anything awful. No, he was sweet with you, caring and kind in a way that you hadn't expected from a husband.

Your Coryo was solid, steady and perfect. Just the way you loved.

Coriolanus had left a shiny box containing the dress you were currently wearing on your bed earlier that day, with a note to wear it tonight. You'd opened the lid and squealed out loud in delight.

It was light pink with roses on the bust, and a long skirt that fell in a train behind you. Looking at yourself in your gold framed full length mirror, you couldn't believe how beautiful it was. You fastened your earrings and noticed your husband enter in the reflection. He grinned, coming to wrap his arms around you from behind.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "Do you like it?"

"It's so pretty," you smiled, swishing your skirts with your hands. "I love it."

"I want my wife to be the most beautiful woman in the gala," he said, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and turning your head to look at yourself in the mirror again. "You are either way, but I want you completely unmatched."

When you arrived at the event, Coriolanus covered your hand in the crook of his arm with his, leading you through the crowd and making sure nobody stepped on the train of your dress. He made sure you stayed close; on his arm as he spoke with senators and dignitaries from all over the country. You gazed up at him adoringly the whole time, your eyes soft.

Coriolanus gently kissed your forehead and told you he was going to get you both drinks. You watched him go, sweetly clasping your hands and smiling to yourself. You were happier now than you could remember, with pretty life and a doting husband. Two things you'd dreamt of but never thought would actually come true.

Moving between the crowd, you went to find Coriolanus. It had been nearly ten minutes since he departed for drinks, and you were curious about where he'd gone. Leaning against a pillar, you peeled your eyes through the crowd, searching for that familiar head of blonde hair. As you searched, your keen ears picked up on someone nearby saying your name.

"...so bad for her," the voice was saying. "He's so calculated, you know he's just using her. Such a shame. She's a pretty girl."

"After everything that went on in the Games and some of the rumors I've heard about how he was elected?" another voice was saying. "I wouldn't be surprised."

Eyes wide, you leaned against the pillar, their words hitting you like you were being stoned. Was this what everybody thought about you and him? You folded your arms around yourself, crimson painted nails scratching at your skin. Knees feeling weak, you tried to take in breaths and process what they'd said.

Coriolanus' past was of untouchable quality to you- it always had been. But the words of the unidentified speakers had gotten to you. Was he not who he said he was? And worst of all...was he lying to you?

Remembering how wonderfully loving he'd been with you, your heart wrenched. And now you were thinking of what they'd said about your husband using you. You weren't stupid- you knew your marriage had not originally been a love match, that your family's money and connections had played a large role in his choice of you. But you'd hoped, truly believed that there had been something else.

Suddenly he was at your side, holding two glasses of champagne. "There you are, I-" Coriolanus cut himself off, looking concernedly at you. "Are you alright, darling?"

"Headache," you managed softly, still holding yourself around your arms.

Immediately he set the glasses on a nearby waiter's platter and took you around the waist, gently guiding you through the crowd. "Oh, honey...I apologize for not noticing. Come...we'll get you home and in bed."

The whole car ride back, you laid with your head in Coriolanus' lap at his insistence as he stroked your hair, trying to soothe your 'headache'. It hadn't been a lie. Your head was throbbing from everything whirling around inside it.

If he had only been using you, why had he taken the time to be so kind? Every gesture, every gift and sweet word...was it all to make your cage more comfortable? You recalled how he'd noticed the change of scent in your hair. Had it all been a controlled farce?

The whispers of the things he'd done plagued you all the way up the stairs to your room. The rumors of cheating in the Hunger Games when he'd been a mentor, his unspoken time as a Peacekeeper. And perhaps worst of all, what people had said he'd done to make his assigned tribute disappear.

The man who was helping you into your pretty pink nightdress didn't seem like he was capable of doing all those things. As he pulled your soft covers over your body and kissed your forehead, you felt yourself stiffen. If this was a buildup it was cruel. You thought he had cared for you...how could he have led you on this way?

The thoughts made you toss and turn, your hair getting tangled on your silk, lace trimmed pillowcase. Fisting the crisp sheet, you sighed into the darkness. It was hopeless to try and get any sleep now.

Sitting up, you reached over and lit a candle, the sweet scent of roses filling the air. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them, huffing quietly. Every thought in your head left you utterly restless, and you wrestled with the only viable solution for what felt like forever before deciding to just do it.

The ornate little clock on your bedside chimed midnight as you rose and donned your dressing gown that matched the nightdress. Sliding your feet into your feathery slippers with the kitten heel, you opened your bedroom door with a soft click and began to pad down the hallway.

Given the time, you knew exactly where he would be. His office door was slightly ajar, and you listened in for a moment. The only sound was of paper shuffling, and so you poked the door to open more, revealing him sitting concentratedly at his desk, the only light two candles on the space. You watched him for a moment before he noticed you, frowning concernedly.

"Darling, you should be in bed," he said quietly, standing up and meeting you halfway across the room. You didn't reach for him like usual, hesitant to treat him like normal in light of this new information. Noticing this and your expression, Coriolanus paused. "What's the matter?"

"Are you using me?" The words blurted from your mouth before you could control them, the product of your hours-long worrying.

His face fell in confusion. "What...what do you mean by that?"

"Are you using me?" you asked again, holding yourself up straighter. "Am I just a way for you to stay at the top?"

Coriolanus took you in; your saddened expression and timid figure. He inhaled softly, and you wished you could read his mind in that moment. "What makes you ask that?"

"I don't know everything that happened before you met me," you started, and his jaw clenched slightly. "But I know it wasn't all good. I know you did certain things so you could be president. But..." Now tears were pricking your eyes, and you cursed them, begged them to go away. "Was I a part of that? Did you...did you ever even care about me?"

Now that you'd said it you felt worse than before. For him this was coming out of nowhere. You were flat-out accusing him of something awful. Would he be angry? Yell at you? You dreaded both options.

Instead, he took your hand, leading you over to the leather sofa in his study. Sitting you down, Coriolanus took your hands in his. Your hair was still messy from sleep, dressing gown falling off one shoulder. You looked as messy outside as you felt inside.

He smoothed your hair behind your back before starting. His eyes were bright blue and sincere, and they were magnetic to you. "I don't know what exactly you've heard about my past," he started, squeezing your hand. "But you know enough to understand that I have done some bad things. Things I'm not proud of. They got me here, and I'm grateful for that, but they were not good." The hardened look he exhibited scared you a little, and you nodded.

Coriolanus continued, rubbing his thumb over your hand. "There were certain things that brought me to this point. And I would be lying if I said you weren't one of them." Your face crumbled, and you looked down at your lap. He lifted your chin, making sure you were looking him in the eye when he said, "But I would also be lying if I said I didn't care for you in more than just that way."

Lips parting slightly, you searched his eyes, trying to determine if he was lying. When you found no hint of one, a feeling of relief took over. You felt tears welling up in your eyes for a different reason now.

He moved closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and bringing you nice and close to him, right up against his chest. You leaned your head carefully on his shoulder, somehow finding the comfort in him you always had before. Coriolanus rubbed your back, kissing your head.

"You're the only truly good thing in my life," he murmured, and you looked up at him, eyes wide. Confirming his words with a single nod, he whispered, "Everything else is corrupt. But you..." he brushed his fingers over your cheek. "You're sweet. Innocent. You keep me grounded where otherwise I'd have gone over the edge."

"You...you care that much about me?" you breathed.

Coriolanus fixed your dressing gown so it was covering your shoulder again, smoothing the spot with his big hand. He nodded, searching your eyes to make sure you understood. "From the first moment I saw you, I knew I wanted to protect and care about you like I'd never done for anybody else." He lifted your chin with a single finger, stroking your cheek. "I wouldn't have given you the roses if I didn't."

The image of the pink flowers crawling up your window filled your mind, and you nearly burst into tears. His family's flower. The symbol that was so important to him now wrapped around the opening to your living space. The one he'd spared no expense in making yours. Looking into his eyes now, you knew he wanted, if not needed you to have such a spot in his home, in the place he came to at the end of the day. He wanted it heart-shaped, just like you.

Though his past held daggers, he shut the door on them and chose to hold you close, to keep any semblance of good in his life. Who would you be to deny him of that?

Affection and light bubbling up inside you, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. His hand fisted the back of your pink silk dressing gown, pushing you into his body. He held you tightly, kissing the side of your head as you whispered, "I love you."

"I love you," he repeated, the words like silk wrapping around your heart. You cozied yourself in his arms, and he leaned back on the couch to accommodate you.

The ruthless president of Panem, with power that made men weak at the knees, cuddling you close and whispering affirmations of his love as the candle burned out.

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solar-wing · 1 year ago

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⚣ Holidays with the Waynes 🦃

⚣🦃 A/N → This idea came randomly, conveniently after Thanksgiving. To everyone that celebrates, Happy Turkey Day (he said about two weeks late) and Indigenous People's Remembrance Day. Also, everyone congratulate me. I finally made a fic under 1000 words. I almost made it longer to but stopped myself. This is why it takes so long to get posts out of me. Just when I think I'm done, I add more. WARNINGS: none. just typical Wayne chaoticness

⚣🦃 Summary → His life is like a reality show and every day is a new episode, with the holidays being their own specials. So, when a classmate asks him how his Thanksgiving was, how does the youngest Wayne son even come up with a response?

⚣🦃 Words → 622

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦃

“So, Y/N, how was your Thanksgiving?”

What a loaded question.

*cue the flashback ripples*

“Damian, why is the turkey in my bedroom?” The youngest Wayne asked after entering the kitchen and finding his half-brother sitting at the island.

“Master Y/N, if you’re going to be eating in your room, I do ask you put a cover over your sheets to avoid crumbs and stains, please,” Alfred said while seasoning one of the various dishes for their dinner.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s not like that. It’s–” Y/N tried to explain before stopping himself after Damian sent him a glare, warning him not to utter another word or else, “It’s just that I sometimes get after-dinner cravings and don’t feel like making the trip to the kitchen. Won’t happen again, though.”

Alfred gave him a suspicious look after glancing at Damian who was avoiding his gaze, before nodding his head and continuing his food preparations. The two brothers both looked at each other before the youngest nodded his head towards the door, making his way out of the kitchen while trying not to act even more suspicious knowing the butler was watching his every move.

Damian quickly moved in tow behind his brother, following him to one of the sitting rooms. A cautious measure to ensure they were out of earshot.

“Next time, scan the room before you start blabbing off as you usually do,” Damian said, his usual annoyed and slightly threatening squint in his eyebrows.

“I do not blab, thank you very much,” Y/N said, his hands on his hips and breath huffing out, showing his clear offense to his brother’s statement.

“History would beg to differ.”

Y/N scoffed with an eye roll, “Whatever. Why is the school’s Thanksgiving turkey mascot currently nesting in my room?”

“I overheard one of the faculty members talking about how good the animal was going to taste on their plates come Thanksgiving dinner, and I refused to let an innocent animal be subjected to such brutality.”

“Okay, but you can’t just kidnap the turkey, Damian! Let alone hide it in my room!”

“First, his name is Tiny. Please, give him the respect of using his name. Second, he’s happier and more relaxed in your room. I think he enjoys your color scheme.” Damian said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I–... Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were a Kardashian.”

“Less authentic and more plastic. Also, you know how Father feels about that family, especially the mother. And, how would you feel if someone tried to chop off your head and limbs so you could be put on a platter that serves 6-10?” The Boy Wonder questioned, mirroring his brother’s body language with his hands on his hips.

“Damian, you literally chased me around the house with your sword last Tuesday.”

“I thought we were playing tag.”

“Who plays tag with a sword?!”

“People who don’t want to get tagged.”

“I–... No words. None whatsoever.”

“Does this mean you’ll let Tiny room with you tonight?”

“Fine.”

For the rest of that Thanksgiving break, Y/N spent it with a roommate who would wake him up at the ass crack of dawn with a series of short, noisy clucks. The youngest Wayne had to explain to his father that he was listening to a new LO-FI relaxing tracks of bird sounds to help him relax.

He received many strange looks from his various family members.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Holidays with my family are pretty lame. Anyway, what about your family?” Y/N answered, lying straight through his two front teeth.

Holidays with his family were never lame, but also never normal.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️| Masterlists | ☀️

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swarvey · 5 months ago

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when you've moved on | elliott x gn!reader | part two

summary -> he slowly lost interest in you after you got married. now he watches you fall back in love with someone else. warnings -> very slight mention of nsfw, implied age gap, mainly just angst! wc -> 1106

a/n: i swear i keep trying to write for the bachelorettes but then get inspired with an idea for the bachelors :') anyways have this, decided to do elliott since he's "so much older and wiser" iykyk.

this was inspired by the dialogue you get when your hearts with your sdv spouse gets low, except i flipped the tables :) lmk if you guys want to see this as a series!!

part one -> the way i loved you (sebastian)

tolerate it -> "what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins?"

elliott's pen hovers over the page in front of him, unmoving for the past ten minutes now. his grip tightens, knuckles white in frustration as he finally releases it, falling back in his chair with his eyes closed as it clatters onto his table.

his writer's block has never been worse, and it's because all he can think of is you.

more so, his loss of you.

no matter how many times he replays the scenario in his head, he can't make sense of how he lost you. he still remembers his wedding day, how he couldn't help but tear up at the sight of you approaching him down the aisle.

"you said you wouldn't cry," you'd teased him.

"i said i would try, my dear," he responded, touching your cheek gently, "but how can i not? your beauty is otherworldly today."

he remembers his vows, his promise to always be by your side. he remembers kissing you like his life depended on it. he remembers going home with you that night, in disbelief that he could finally call you his as he pulled his hair into a bun, mermaid's pendant hitting his bare chest as he dragged you to the bedroom.

"i love you, y/n," he'd said after, both of you panting in exhaustion and satisfaction beside each other. "more than anything else in this universe. i wouldn't trade you for a hundred iridium bars."

you'd laughed, turning your head to look at him with shining eyes and pink cheeks. "really? how about a thousand?"

"nor a thousand."

"ten thousand?"

"not even ten thousand bars, no."

". . . how about a hundred thousand?"

"no, not even a hundred thousand bars!" he'd turned to you then, wide-eyed and holding back a grin at the sight of your scheming gaze. "my love, let's be reasonable—"

"what about a million bars?"

"wha . . . a million bars of pure iridium . . . ? dear, don't make me do this . . ."

"a-ha!" you'd said, sitting up in bed suddenly. "so you would!"

"i never said such a thing!"

at the sight of his pout, you had sprawled yourself on top of him, planting a kiss on his nose as he looked down at you with a smile.

"i love you, too, el."

elliott sighs, his head falling forward into his hand. one part of him wishes to hear you utter those words again; the other prays he'll one day forget you ever said them.

the first few seasons after the wedding had been dreamlike — elliott had never felt so full of life before. it was like being with you had opened his eyes to how colorful and bright the world could be. sometimes he would wake up before you and admire your sleeping figure, a soft smile appearing on his lips every time he caught a glimpse of your necklace.

he doesn't remember when the spark began to fade, though.

no, he only recalls the days he began to leave the farm early in the morning to spend time alone in his old cabin on the beach, coming back only for dinner. the two of you would eat quietly, sitting at opposite ends of the table. he would ask and answer questions shortly, mainly focusing on the dull, uninspiring feeling he seemed to get every time he was in your shared house.

he never noticed the sad look filling your eyes, begging him to pay attention to you, to show you the love he once had for you. he paid no mind to how your face lit up every time he came home, only to deflate as he walked past you. he never even thought about how your conversations with him had turned one-sided, as he would spill his troubles to you without even giving you a chance to share yours.

not until it was too late, that is.

". . . do you still love me?"

it was a question he never thought he would hear from you, and yet he'd unknowingly driven you to that point. elliott had never heard silence so loud until then, realizing that, for some reason, he couldn't answer your question.

"answer me, elliott," you'd said, voice wavering as he uneasily met your eyes. "i need to know this. i feel like you've been treating me like a kid lately — when i talk to you, i can barely get a word out without you lecturing me. you're barely home to even do that anymore."

he scoffed. "please, y/n, be reasonable," he had replied, the same words he had said that night after professing his love to you. "i've simply been a bit caught up lately, that's all. i need my own time to write."

"seriously? that's what you're going to say?" you shook your head, crossing your arms as you looked at him pleadingly. "why are you acting like this? do you seriously think being a bit older than me justifies how you've been treating me?"

"that has nothing to do with our situation," he snapped sharply, then sighed. "please, can we go to bed? i'm tired of this." he started towards the bedroom door, leaving you behind him.

"you never answered my question."

he stopped.

"it's okay, el," you'd whispered. "i had a feeling i already knew. i was just hoping you would at least be able to tell me."

so now, here he is. unable to finish the sequel to his novel because he'd dedicated the first one to you, and what's the point of writing a second one if you're no longer by his side?

what's the point if you have sebastian now, who spends every second with you? who is much younger than him and rides a motorcycle? who gives you a mermaid's pendant — a year after the two of you separated, by the way — and makes sure the entire town can make it to your wedding?

he doesn't know what you see in him. sure, his passion for music is a bit admirable, but can he really treat you properly? there's no way seb can make you smile, make you laugh, make you cry out of pure joy or pleasure like he did.

elliott had attended the wedding, of course, so he could make sure you were happy.

he most certainly wasn't hoping to see a twinge of hesitation, maybe even regret in your eyes as you walked down the aisle again.

as elliott abandons his writing and heads out the doorway of his cabin, the image of you happier than he'd ever seen you while passionately kissing sebastian is burned into his mind.

you are no longer his, and it's entirely his fault.

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liveontelevision · 6 months ago

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Suffer Pt. 6 | Lucifer x Reader

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

A single anon request and a 56-page Google doc later, this is the last part, my friends. Thanks to everyone who's been so invested in this, this turned into a bigger project than I thought it would lol But! I'm so glad everyone's been enjoying it, and I hope y'all like the ending! I'm sorry for all the cliffhangers along the way haha (not really)

An extra thank you to the anon who requested a simple babysitter fic and ended up inspiring this whole deal!

♡♡♡

It’s almost been a year since you arrived to the hotel. You arrived when the building was in less than pristine condition, and just a few new guests had arrived. It was a few days after you saw Charlie’s interview on the news, that being what brought you in, despite it’s failure. You were just happy to see her face after all that time. Yet, above the cluttered space and the holes in the walls, there was a more malevolent scheme being hatched.

Any soul who might pass the princess’s room would be bombarded by curses, screams, and growls that sounded less than human. So, most the hotel residents decide it best to avoid that corridor. But not our trusty hotelier. His hand reached for the handle, after deciding that making a bold entrance might not be the best idea. His motion was put to a quick halt by a flurry of curses coming from the other side of the door. Alastor didn’t realize Charlie held such a..colorful vocabulary. Despite that, he went on.

He was greeted with a sight that, unfortunately, wasn’t new to him. An intricate web of red thread connected to pins, all scattered across a once pristine wall. It all connects a collage of images, some that he recognized, some that looked like nonsensical scribbles. The view is obstructed by a furiously pacing princess of Hell. Mumbling completely incoherent complaints, she doesn't notice the opening and closing of her bedroom door.

Alastor, being the sadist he is, props his stance with his microphone, his forced smile unmoving. He enjoys the view for a moment before finally clearing his throat to bring her attention to him. She nearly stumbles over her own feet, ready to scold him for materializing into her room, despite the fact that she was just too out of it to see him walk straight in.

“Al! Good! I need another pair of eyes, come here, come here, look!” She approaches him faster than he expects, and he’s ready to reel away, but is unfortunately hooked around the neck with Charlie’s disturbing strength. With an arm around his shoulders, she drags him forward to examine the wall, as if it made sense to anyone other than her. She starts talking nonsense, again. Something about friendship and Heaven, things he never really cared about. Things he usually tuned out whenever they came up. He only seems to partake in the conversation once he heard your name.

“Alastor.. She’s one of our first guests. I honestly can’t believe anyone showed up after that terrible interview I had earlier, I’m worried i’ll mess things up, again! I mean, all of Hell already thinks i’m a joke.. I just- really need this to go well.” Her mood seems to calm, but to a state of despair. Alastor let’s out a symphahetic awe, patting the top of her head.

“Aw, our poor princess. I understand your concern, my dear, this hotel must mean quite a lot to you.” He faines a sympathy that only convinces Charlie because of her state of disarray.

“Of course it does! And she’s already so kind, I’m sure she’s close to redemption! Maybe this will be a quick one! A-and we don’t even know it, right? That has to be it!” She seems to be reassuring herself, only to be met with an unresponsive radio demon. She groans. Dragging her feet as she walks to the edge of bed, She sits down and lets her head fall into her hands.

“I really need this to work. I’ll do anything for this to work..” It was a quiet mumble, muffled into her palms, but Alastor heard exactly what he wanted to hear. His grin twisted, something Charlie didn’t see, as he sits at her side. He gives her a quick pat to her back, in some form of comfort.

“Charlie, dear, I understand how much this little project means to you.. I do. And I want nothing more than to witness you trying as hard as you can to keep it up.” Even if it fails. Charlie looks up to him, the bags under her eyes suddenly very apparent. “How would you feel about a little deal? Just a small one, no souls on the line, I guarantee.”

She’s been warned by Vaggie in the past. Actually, his entire reputation is enough to make her uneasy by the idea. but…

“I-I don’t know. What did you have in mind..?” She asks reluctantly. He let’s out a chuckle that almost sounds sinister.

“Believe it or not, our little guest and I have a bit of a history.” You can barely call it a history. You served him and Rosie on occasion when you were working in cannibal town. “I’d be delighted to oversee her safety and process to redemption! It’s just as you said, she’s already a gem, Heaven is waiting for her, I can feel it. This will be a breeze for the both of us.” His offer comes off as sincere and touching to Charlie. It wasn’t like him to openly mention his relationships with other demons yet, the idea of you having a close friend throughout this process might just be what you’re missing.

“That’s so sweet of you, Alastor, but.. What do you want from me?” She has to ponder a moment before even considering letting this go on any further.

“Well, you’ve given me a roof over my head and.. A tower for my broadcasts.. Hmm..” He taps his chin, as if he’s in thought. “I’m not quite sure I’ll need from you at the moment, since you’ve just been so hospitable already.” He places a hand to her shoulder, the kind words causing her eyes to well with tears a bit in her weakened state.

“There has to be something.. Well, maybe we can both think this over, once I have a clear head.” She sighs her words, standing from the bedside. Alastor takes her hand and brings her to a halt.

“Oh, but I’d love to get to work as soon as possible, if I may be so bold.. I’m not quite sure what you could offer me in this moment… How about we work out the details, later?” He speaks as if he’s coming up with these words on the spot. He’s had this planned since day one, though. Any chance to get a favor from the princess, he’ll take. Charlie turns to him and sees the strange green glow surrounding their hands. She attempts to pull away, but his grasp is tight.

“Well.. I mean…” She’s still hesitant. He watches her rub her eyes. The still relevant exhaustion gives him a bit of hope.

“It’s simple. I’ll do everything in my power to keep our little guest comfortable and on the path to redemption, no acception. In return, I’ll ask of you one single favor when the time comes.” The glow only continues to swell with his words, and it's clearly making her reconsider. “It’s not as serious as you may think, Charlie. Just a favor between friends, really.” Friendship seemed to strike the right tone.

“I guess.. If it’s for the hotel… Okay, Alastor. It’s a deal.”

Back to the dreaded fight just a few months later. You're seeing red.

“Charlie! You made a deal with Alastor?? What were you thinking?” You’re scolding her at this point. The situation barely had time to cool down before your worries began to kick in. Her horns and ruby eyes are still present, she hasn’t even had time to calm herself from the previous display. Lucifer is essentially holding you back, a hand across your front as you try to approach her. It hurts you a bit. Does he think you’re some kind of danger to her?

..Are you putting her in danger?

Alastor is still propped on the ground. He holds a hand around his neck, in hopes of soothing the aggressive collar that had materialized around it just moments ago. You’re all keeping your distance from eachother.

“I-I wasn’t! I wasn’t thinking! It was after the interview! You saw it, you know didn’t go well! I-I had all of Hell laughing at me, laughing at the hotel- He was offering help, I have no idea why he’s acting this way, I swear..! I.. I-” Charlie’s demonic features start to recede when she feels a hand on her back. With heavy breaths, she looks over to Lucifer, who was standing by her side now, ready to comfort her. With a small hiccup, she falls into his arms, gripping his shirt tightly as she did. Her head fell to his shoulder, thoroughly staining his vest with her tears.

The room is uncomfortably filled with her silent sobs. Your heart aches too much looking at the touching display between father and daughter, and your guilt from snapping at her is making you fidget. That’s when you got to thinking.

The deal was for Alastor watch over you until you got to Heaven. For him to do anything in his power to keep you on the path to redemption. To prevent any behavior that might stunt that process..

“Oh.. oh, my god. You’ve been buttering me up this whole time.” You turn to face a still recovering Alastor. The realization grabs the attention of both Morningstars, they raise their heads to look towards the commotion. “The gifts, all the time we spent together.. Was because of this deal? Did.. did you ever actually care about me?” You grip at your heart, ready to rip it straight from your chest. He stands, brushing debris from his entirety.

“I doubt you’ll believe me after such a display of violence, but.. Yes. I did enjoy our time together, despite the requisite of being under my protection. It was quite entertaining before it was… tainted.” His hisses out his final words, contrasting the sweetness of it all. Tainted?

He was kind to you as soon as you arrived in the hotel. Despite the drama, you’ve been inseparable since. Things only got convoluted after..

“Under your protection..? Is that why you’ve been turning me away from Lucifer?! Fuck- it is! You’ve been playing games with me for months! Getting in my head..! H-How could you..” He hasn’t just been physically keeping the two of you apart. From day one, your mind was manipulated into thinking Lucifer never wanted you.

“Well.. not to defend myself, dear, but I was merely considering your redemption. I believe there’s some sort of sin in worshipping the Devil.” Oh, now he’s just trying to make more trouble.

“Oh, fuck you Al, I don’t worship him, I love him!” Your comical response seems to drive a shocked expression or two towards you. But you’re too upset to elaborate. You want to tear him apart. You want to see him experience as much pain as you’re feeling now. Luckily, you weren’t the only one. In a blur of a movement, Alastor was brought back to the ground with a thud.

A foot to his chest, Charlie has him pinned to the ground. Her fists are clenched, the aura surrounding her creates a suffocating heat.

“You took advantage of me, Alastor. You betrayed my friends, my family.. My trust.” Despite the demonic tones underlying her voice, it still sounds pained. You didn’t know she could do this, but her clenched fists become encased in fire. Just like her fathers’.

You’re surprised to see him lurking behind, but not attacking. After all you’ve seen, you were sure he’d have ripped Alastor’s head off at this point. His eyes widen, a display of fear you werent expecting. You follow his gaze to see Charlie holding a familiar angelic spear to his neck.

You hear an unearthly growl come from her chest, and before you can think, your arm is wrapped around hers. You can feel the resistance, realizing you had stopped her right as she was about to put an end to it all. Put an end to him.

“Charlie! Stop!” You yell out. You have to do it once or twice more, your words not quite reaching her yet. Once she turns to you, her eyes are still dripping with tears. “Charlie, don’t. This isn’t you. You’ll regret it, I know you will.. I know you.” You’re begging her to stop. As you feel the muscles in her arm start to relax, you reach for the spear and pull it gently from her hands. She releases her grasp without a fight.

You usher her off, glancing back to Alastor for a moment to see his wound had reopened from that. He had an obvious slash across his neck. You gulped, realizing how close she was to actually killing him. She places her hand over yours, where your arms are still linked.

Charlie let’s out a sigh, looking to her shaking hands, then clenching her fists. She looks to you, then back to Alastor.

“But.. everything he’s done to you… It’s not right, I’m not sure I can forgive him..” She’s speaking quietly to you.

“Well.. You don’t have to forgive him. But he doesn't deserve to die, Charlie.” You state the obvious and it makes her flinch. “And.. you should let him stay.” You hear a collective What? from the room.

“I know I know.. but… this whole place is about second chances. I.. think he can change. And even though, he is being such a dick right now-” Your voice is cracking, as if you can hardly believe your own words. “-I still believe it. You taught me that.” You smile up to Charlie. After a moment you turn your head to Lucifer, meeting his eyes. He looks more in shock than anyone, almost hurt by your act of mercy. You’re surprised by his expression, not realizing Charlie had slipped from your side to approach Alastor.

“She’s right, you know. I can’t forgive you, Alastor. Not yet, at least.. But you’re welcome to stay here, considering all the help you’ve done for the hotel.” She sounds stern, still not entirely convinced this is the right call.

“Yeah, some help you’ve been, you prick..” Those are the first words Lucifer has muttered in awhile. You approach his side to jab him with your elbow and shush him. Despite your scolding action, your presence only reminds him of your previous confession. He crosses his arms and continues to curse quietly, despite his flushed cheeks. Charlie steps closer to Alastor.

“You’re still here, because of her.” Charlie’s voice goes dark as she gestures to you. “That favor I owe you? Is letting you live. This deal is done, Alastor.” She hisses her words out. The intensity and anger radiating from two of the most powerful creatures in Hell is enough to leave even Alastor a bit weary. He nods, still gripping his wound that has been repeatedly opened these past few days. Other than that, he slinks away with barely a scratch. Lucky him.

Once he’s out of sight, Charlie let’s out a groan and falls to her knees. With a unison call of her name both you and Lucifer rush to her side. You place a hand on her back, attempting to keep any displaced hair from her face. She leans into Lucifer’s chest, a heartaching sight of sniffles and apologies.

Before long, she seemed to exhaust herself. Curled up to his chest, Lucifer smiles, despite the circumstances of their closeness. He lifts his eyes just slightly to see yours. You look embarrassed. Before he has a chance to question you, you rise from the ground.

“You should take her to bed.” You say in a hushed tone, gripping your arms and making some distance. “She needs some rest after.. all that.”

“Sure, but.. are you-” He speaks just as softly, opening a portal behind him silently.

“I’m fine. I’m-” You let out a sigh, beginning to move towards the stairs. “She needs to rest, Lucifer.” You remind him.

“Oh- Oh.. Right, yeah.” He rises to his feet, effortlessly lifting Charlie into his arms and stepping through the portal. You try to keep moving. You try to not meet his eyes as the portal shuts, but you find yourself unable to go on. Once they’re gone, you cover your mouth, only making your labored breaths worse, but you’re desperate to muffle any cries. You feel yourself wobble in place, before seeing a portal open to your side. It leads to your room.

After stepping through, you silently approach your bed. Your legs suddenly turn led, and you're hitting your bed with a gasp. Your exhaustion is enough to keep your sobs to a minimum at least.

The feeling you have when you wake up is worse than any hangover you’ve had. With alcohol you can at least forget your troubles. But on this morning, you can vividly remember the previous night. You sit up, your body aching. You only wonder why for a moment, before realizing you had fallen asleep sideways across your bed, your legs still dangling off the side. You still need sleep.

You remove any uncomfortable clothing or accessories that had pressed marks into your body and return to bed. The right way, this time. Your pillows feel like heaven after all that’s happened. Heaven..

You try your best to sleep, you really do. Your body is essentially begging you to empty your thoughts just for a few more minutes. But your mind is sending you tossing and turning, any times you close your eyes, all you can imagine is everything you've done wrong. Your eyes drift open after trying to force them shut, and your eyes spot the radio on your nightstand. You sit silently for a moment, maybe try to close your eyes again..

Nope.

Before you have a chance to process every movement, you’re opening your door and thoughtlessly throwing the radio outside. You don’t care where it ends up, clearly. You were waiting to hear it break, into multiple pieces hopefully, before shutting your door. You’re met with a startled groan instead. Taking a moment to process that you had thrown an old-timey radio at someone, you stand at your door with a yawn.

The panic hits you. It could’ve been Alastor, assuming he stayed. It could’ve been Charlie, who doesn’t need any more conflict. You could’ve taken out Niffty as far as you know. Swinging the door open, your eyes see the radio first. They’re wrapped in your victim’s arms.

“Good catch.” You let out hoarsly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to clearly see Lucifer.. It could've been worse. He let’s out a breathless thanks, clearly having the air knocked out of him. You definitely didn’t hold back with that throw. And it wasn’t exactly a lightweight radio.

“Er.. Sorry. I meant to say sorry.” You try to recover, your words are followed by another yawn. You watch him drop the radio into a small portal he conjured below his grip.

“Good morning to you, too. I was, uh.. about to check on charlie, but-” He’s ready for a conversation that you aren’t. You quickly shake your head, pulling your door in.

“Nono, I need some time.. To wake up. I’ll see you around, though.” You didn’t expect him to perk up from his words, but he does. His smile is infectious. You watch him give you a little wave before shutting your door. You lean against it, your smile that you had been presenting to him, leaves you almost immediately.

There’s so much on your mind. You scan your room, memories of Alastor popping up no matter where you looked. Every chat you’ve had in here, every moment you’d call him in for advice for clothes or accessories, all the nights you’d fall asleep listening to his voice. Your eyes stopped at your vanity seat. Draped across the back is a bittersweet sight, your gifted red sweater. You finally rise to your feet, quickly reaching for it and holding it tightly in your hands. You hesitate before bringing it to your nose. You’re not sure why. Why would you want to remind yourself of anything involving him? Did you think that same scent that’s brought you comfort so many times would have the same affect? You give it a shot.

Hesitantly breathing in, you’re immediately reeling back, throwing the sweater down to your ground. Your hand covers your nose, that sickenlingly sweet honey scent now smells like rotten flesh. Like road kill. You need some air. Digging out a different sweater, one you haven’t had to use in months, you decide you just need to walk around for a bit. The hotel was big enough that you could safely avoid any unwanted attention. Plus, you were sure Alastor’s pride was too wounded to freely roam the hotel. And his other wound.. You hope he’s okay.

You groan out loud, mentally cursing yourself for your sympathetic thoughts. You make your way down to the lobby, and are met with a surprisingly clean lounge. You scan the walls that were previously cracked, the carpets that should be stained with blood, then wonder where Vaggie’s suddenly conjured spear might have gone. What would have possessed Charlie to choose such a weapon.. an angelic spear? She didnt really want him dead, did she? She's emotional. And extreme. Like her father. You decide not to question it any further. It’s not like you were upset by the erasure of the previous night's events.

A day or two passed. Your mind seemed unwilling to accept the reality you're currently in. You're anxious, and paranoid to any sentence thrown your way. You're constantly looking around corners, checking all parts if your room before locking it for the night. Yet, if someone were to ask what was making you so nervous, you wouldn’t have an answer.

You found yourself taking those little strolls often, though. Keeping your body in motion, with only the sounds of your breathing keeping you company, seemed to clear your mind. It never helped come to terms with any seething pain you felt, but it cleared your mind at the least.

You'd pieced together a few things in the meantime. After passing the bar, where Angel and Husk were chatting, they would smile and wave, ask you join them form a drink, but you’d decline. Neither of them seemed to know about anything. Maybe Niffty cleaned the mess. Maybe Alastor asked her to. Before anyone could see the outcome of his mistakes.

You passed Vaggie in a hall, and she immediately looked concerned. She opened her mouth, an Are you okay? sits on the tip of her tongue. But then she looked at you. Your body only mirrored the fog of your mind, baggy eyed and wrapped in some blanket as you roamed the halls like a damned ghost.

“Hey, um- it's.. it's gonna be-" you held your hand up to her.

“I know. Thank you.” You smile, the action stiff, considering you hadn't used those muscles in awhile. Vaggie knew. That was fair, though. You were glad Charlie had someone to confide with. You walked on after she gave a hesitant goodbye wave.

One night, when your body had taken over and you were wandering aimlessly, you realized where you ended up. Not only were you standing in front of Lucifer's workshop, he had already spotted you through the window on the door. He opened it before you could fully take in your surroundings.

“Hey..” You let out softly. What else are you supposed to say? You didn’t come prepared. You feel embarrassed standing in front of him, realizing how much of a mess you must look. You're not even sure what part of your mind made you end up here.

He doesn't respond at first, another speechless moment letting your mind wander. He opens the door more, offering his space to you. You look at him and he smiles before you shuffle inside. You take in the sight. You haven't actually seen it, considering your circumstances after the hotel was renovated.

“It looks nice in here.” You say quietly, your voice cracking just a bit. You walk through, tracing your fingers along desks and tables, stopping and looking at family photos on occasion. You looked to Lucifer’s smiling face in a picture where he was lovingly holding his wife and daughter. How did you end up like this?

“Oh- um.. thank you, it's more than enough space for me, but, uh.. it's nice.” His voice sounds unfamiliar as it snaps you from your mindset. He moves to his main bench, which is slightly elevated by a platform that connects to the windowed wall. You eventually make your way around, standing near him.

“Are.. you… How are you..?” You listen to him struggle to form such a simple question, and yet you have an equally hard time trying to respond. Obviously, you were crushed. devastated by the betrayal and overwhelmed by everything else.

“I'm okay.” You reply thoughtlessly. It was your go-to answer. You hear a muffled chuckle and look over to him. He's blocking the laughter with his fist in front of his lips. Is he laughing at you?

“Sorry sorry, I just.. know that you're lying. You've done this before, don't forget how much time I've actually spent with you.” You want to scold him for acting so bold, for saying he knows you better than yourself, but..

You're leaning against the table in one moment, and before you know it, you're hoisted to sit on its top. You felt like a relief you didn't realize. Your feet were aching. How long were you walking the in the halls today? The sensation of his hands planted on your waist. to steadily bring you to the counter, lingered after he had removed them.

“I used to see you wandering around back home- at the mansion, I mean. usually after a tough day. But it's been a few days, so I just thought you might be-”

“Why are you so calm?” Your sudden question made him visibly finch. "You were tricked, too, you know. He tore us apart. How can you be handling this so well?” Your voice starts to turn agitated. You weren't sure why you were taking it out on himm, but you both knew in the moment that this was the first time you’ve let any emotion out since the fight.

“It's like some.. malevolent force is constantly tearing us apart. One moment I'm happy, I'm in love, I'm smiling- then the next, you're just gone. and everything else that keeps me sane goes with it.” You feel a flood of tears beginning to well. Tears that you should've been letting out days ago. “Is this some kind of fucking curse? Why can’t things just be easy..? A-Are we just doomed?” You're wiping your face clear, your words becoming sloppy and hoarse.

“Maybe.” Your head lifts to see him, still calm as before, but with a solemn look on his face. “But, we keep finding eachother, right? And all the good times.. they'll stay good, won’t they?” You nod your head reluctantly.

He approaches you, with a hand on your shoulder, he's wiping away tears with the other.

“Honestly? I'm not handling this well at all. You're right, the universe has done nothing but tear us apart and hurt both of us. And I’m just about ready to tear Alastor limb by limb. I want Charlie to be okay.. I want to keep you by my side and never let you out of my sight this time.” You see his emotions range throughout his words, his eyes flashing red for a moment. He calms himself down, running his hand down your arm to hold your hand. You don't resist.

“But, you made some good points back there. And I just thought.. if you're strong enough to let that prick live, after everything, then.. Maybe I-I.. I'm trying to be strong.” He sounds almost embarrassed to admit it, and the comment on your strength leaves you a bit red in the cheeks. “You've always been so strong, darling. I just wish you'd tell me how you're really feeling.. I miss talking to you. Not this.. empty shell.” His words stung and he knew it as soon as they slipped from his lips.

“W-wait, no, I mean..”

“It’s fine, you're not wrong.. Jerk.” You share a little laugh with him, the mood lightening for just a moment. “Lucifer, I'm.. I'm so tired.” You let out weakly. That barely scratches the surface of everything. It's as if your mind was boiling over, with all the thoughts of Alastor turning sour, and the thoughts of redemption suddenly in question, not to mention all those feelings of Lucifer that were repressed until just recently. You want Charlie to be okay. You want things to be normal, but.. you're not quite sure what normal looks like. You wish you could say all this to him.. it’s hard to put it to words. But you're trying. He makes you want to try harder.

You feel a gentle hand holding your cheek, bringing your blurred thoughts to clarity and meeting eyes that left you breathless. When was the last time you've looked in his eyes? A blush forms across his cheeks, your gaze seems to fluster him. He clears his throat, getting his mind back.

“You're not okay. But.. You will be. I promise.” With a wry smile, you let the weight of your head fall into his palm.

Your eyes meet. He leans in and you feel his arms snake around yout waist. Looking back, you're almost embarrassed by the way you leaned towards him, eyes shut, head tilted, your lips just slightly parted. You were startled by the feeling of his head resting on your shoulder. He only pulls you closer after he feels your breath start to deepen, his hands gentle across your back. You finally return his touch, digging your nose into the crook of his neck and gripping tightly at his shirt.

It used to feel like, if you let go, you'll never hold him again. God, how the possibility scares you. But.. it feels a little different this time. You weren’t worried about him disappearing, this time.

You’re so comforted by his presence, you let yourself fully relax to him. You open your eyes just slightly, blinking out some tears that still remained, thoroughly ruining his top. You pull away, meeting his eyes again.

You feel as if you were close to forgetting this side of him, but you recognize this face. You saw it the night you first kissed him. You saw it after seeing him at the hotel for the first time, then when he decided to sweep you off your feet for a little date. You saw it after every little date that followed. You realize he's never stopped looking at you this way.

“I love you, too.”

I had to put that worship the devil in there it just made me laugh so sorry if that seemed out of place lol

And not to fear my friends,

I plan on making a little epilogue about how everyone's recovering, and some sweet, yummy, fluffy goodness to top it off.

Again, Thank you all so much for your support! :)

I'll be working on some requests next, and some more vamp Luci! Kind of in love with that guy ngl

Taglist! (good lord I hope I got everybody )

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness

@misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @wendigonamecaller / @chirimeimei / @sapphireravensworld / @sillywormtrixareforkids

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