#first blind man to appear as well so he's special | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nebuladreamerrr · 6 months ago

Note

What about those ideas? You won’t post them anymore? I want to read the dad fic so bad 😭��

https://www.tumblr.com/nebuladreamerrr/754189019746910208/hiiiii-i-have-several-ideas-in-mind-and-although

I hope you enjoy it a lot, I had a lot of fun writing this, and I tried to do it differently, adding many more details. I think it's the story I like the most out of the ones I've written so far 💗💗💗

Fine line| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: After three long years of constant changes and persistent fears, Kylian feels ready to show his son to the world, but he will not hesitate to jump and defend his family if anyone attacks them.

Warnings: English is not my first language, and mentions of a kid suffering from blindness

You couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion as you dressed your son to attend his dad's match. The Real Madrid stadium was gearing up for an epic night, and the thrill of seeing Kylian on the field was always indescribable. However, this time it was even more special. Not only because Kylian was in his best form and ready to fight for the Champions League title, but because Jayce, your little one, would be there to witness it.

Ever since you told Jayce, just two weeks ago, that he could go to the place where his dad worked, he hadn't stopped talking about it every chance he got. He wore the Real Madrid jersey in every possible situation, even while sleeping, and practiced singing the anthem for when the match started. His enthusiasm was contagious, and every time he talked about his dad, his words reflected a mix of admiration and love.

It seemed incredible that the little Mbappé family hadn't set foot in the stadium to cheer on the footballer in almost three years. This had fueled numerous breakup rumors in the media, as you had always supported Kylian, not only by going to the club's stadium but also by traveling to different countries to be his "lucky charm." However, when little Jayce was born, everything changed.

Kylian adored his son, and it showed in every daily interaction he had with him. From teaching him to walk, to making video calls when he was away so Jayce could hear his voice while hugging the personalized stuffed toy shaped like his father. Gradually, Kylian was instilling all the values that would make Jayce a great man. But Kylian was terrified that someone might harm his little boy. He knew all too well how the journalists and the press operated, and they wouldn't hesitate to hurt his son just to get to Kylian.

Since the beginning of your relationship, Kylian had always been overprotective, fearing that the press might overwhelm you or that the crowds might drive you away from him. However, he slowly discovered your strong personality and understood that you could handle those problems on your own. But Jayce was still too young to face all those challenges, so, as his parents, you had to protect him.

From the moment Kylian found out you were pregnant, he had been dreaming about the day he would meet his son: how tall he would be, how much he would weigh, whether he would look more like you or him. Although doubts sometimes crossed his mind about what would happen if something went wrong, he always found comfort in the fact that you had a great team of professionals by your side and that you were a strong woman capable of achieving anything you set your mind to.

The delivery seemed to go smoothly, and everything appeared to have been a success until they began examining little Jayce. Initially, they noticed that he was barely opening his eyes. They thought it might be due to the strain of the birth or that the light might be bothering him, but as days passed, Jayce seemed to have problems with his eyes. It was then that they discovered the little one was blind.

You had never expected to have a child with a disability, but you knew you would love him with all your heart. However, it pained you to see how Kylian felt guilty about everything. He couldn't help but feel responsible for the criticisms his son might face for being his son, for being the center of attention even if he didn't want to be, and for always standing out. Through tears, Kylian confessed that he preferred to keep his son away from the public eye, and crying, he begged you to forgive him for complicating your lives.

During these past three years, you had learned not only how to be a mother—deciphering what your son needed when he cried, what stories Jayce preferred, and how to find the perfect balance between motherhood and your professional life—but also to be the emotional support and rock for Kylian during this time, especially in the most difficult moments.

At first, it seemed like Kylian was sinking deeper and deeper. His joy was fading, consumed by worry and sadness. However, the start of the new season was a breath of fresh air for him. The adrenaline and passion for football allowed him to release all those pent-up emotions, and Jayce's first year of life became the year Kylian was crowned the league's top scorer. This achievement was not only a milestone in his career but also a crucial step in his emotional recovery.

Gradually, Kylian learned to manage his emotions and realized that he couldn't let fear and external pressures dictate his decisions. He learned to be the best dad possible for Jayce, accepting that raising his son wouldn't be as he had imagined, but also discovering that he wouldn't change it for the world. He loved how Jayce would touch his face to get to know his features, and how he would get excited about doing chores like setting the table on his own. These small moments showed that Jayce was a strong child and that in the future, he would be as independent as any other kid.

Undoubtedly, one of Kylian's most cherished memories with his son was when he started teaching him how to play football. He bought special balls with sand inside, which allowed Jayce to locate them by sound and feel as they moved. With these balls, Jayce learned to kick and score goals that filled his father with pride. Each time the little one scored, Kylian's joy and pride grew, strengthening their bond and giving him another reason to keep going.

These years hadn't been easy, but they had strengthened your family in ways you never imagined. The challenges had been numerous, but love and determination had prevailed, showing that together you could face any adversity. Now, as you dressed Jayce for the match, you felt a mix of pride and excitement. You knew that no matter what, your family would always find a way to move forward, and today was a celebration of that indomitable spirit.

After making sure you had everything you needed for the match, like snacks for Jayce and various toys, you decided to drive to the stadium. Kylian had informed the club in advance about the importance of this day, asking for his family to feel comfortable and well taken care of. So, when the security staff noticed that you had arrived by car, they didn't hesitate to help and guide you through the stadium, giving Jayce a team scarf and small stickers. The little one, grateful, responded with a huge smile.

Upon reaching the designated box, you showed Jayce around. Kylian had commissioned a relief recreation of the stadium's silhouette so Jayce could always know where he was, the tunnels leading to the field, and the goals where his father would dedicate a goal to him that night. Additionally, some wives of Kylian's teammates came over to greet and meet mini Mbappé, who was delighted to chat and meet new people.

Shortly before the match started, Kylian came up to the box to give you a final kiss and to encourage Jayce, promising to make him very proud. His presence and words filled the air with emotion.

"I am so proud of how you’ve evolved and how we’ve grown as a family," you whispered before giving him a warm kiss of encouragement.

"I couldn't have done it without you, mon amour," Kylian replied with a smile.

As you watched Kylian return to the field, you felt a wave of pride and love. This match was not just a sporting event but a symbol of the journey you had traveled together as a family. Kylian, Jayce and you had faced challenges that had strengthened you, and now you were ready to enjoy this special moment together.

Jayce settled into his seat, stroking the team scarf with a smile as you explained the details of the stadium that he explored with his hands. Every goal, every play, every moment of the match held special meaning, and you knew this night would be etched into your family’s memory forever.

In the 37th minute, Mbappé scored a goal that not only made all the Madrid fans leap to their feet but also brought Real Madrid closer to lifting that long-awaited Champions League trophy, especially significant since it was being held at their home stadium. Right after scoring and celebrating with his ecstatic teammates, Kylian headed toward a camera, blowing a kiss and pointing to the box where you were sitting. What surprised you the most was hearing over the loudspeaker: "Kylian dedicates this goal to his family and especially to his son Jayce." Kylian had taken care of every detail to ensure his son felt loved and understood what was happening.

“Send lots of kisses to Daddy,” you whispered to your son as he enthusiastically blew kisses into the air. Although Jayce couldn't see, Kylian was on the field, returning those kisses.

As the match progressed, Madrid focused on defense. Both teams tried to create chances, but neither managed to score another goal. However, this didn't dampen Madrid's spirits as they became Champions League winners once again.

You couldn't help but take out your phone to record, filled with emotion, as Kylian looked for you with his eyes. Your little one was jumping with joy when you told him to say hello to Daddy, who was looking for him. Tears welled up as you watched Kylian and the team lift the trophy they had fought so hard to win. While you saw Kylian joke around, dance with his teammates, and even sing chants with the fans, you decided to give him his space to enjoy his moment, taking the opportunity to explain to Jayce everything that was about to happen.

“Now we’re going down to celebrate with Daddy, okay?” you said, giving him a little kiss on the cheek.

Jayce nodded enthusiastically, clutching your hand as you prepared to head down to the field. The security staff, aware of the situation, kindly guided you through the stadium, ensuring everything went smoothly.

When you reached the edge of the field, the roar of the crowd and the glow of the spotlights created a magical atmosphere. Kylian, seeing you approach with Jayce, ran towards you with a smile that reflected pure happiness. He bent down to hug Jayce, lifting him into the air as the little boy laughed and reached out to touch his dad’s face.

“We did it, mon petit champion!” Kylian exclaimed with an emotional voice, kissing Jayce’s forehead.

“Yes, Daddy, we did it,” Jayce responded, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and joy.

The night turned into an unforgettable celebration, with Kylian sharing his triumph not only with his teammates but with the people he loved the most. As you held Jayce, you watched Kylian lift the trophy once more, feeling that all the effort and sacrifice of the past years had been worth it.

No matter how many times you had imagined this moment, this day had exceeded your expectations by far. Beyond the incredible athletic performance and talent that Kylian had demonstrated once again, your little one had immensely enjoyed this day. There were memorable moments, like when you took a photo with the trophy where Jayce sat inside it, or when Kylian lifted him up so he could touch the goal where he had scored the goal dedicated to him. Jayce had also enjoyed the company of the children of his father's teammates, who had animatedly talked with him and held his hand the whole time.

After many celebrations, cheers, and chants, Florentino Pérez carefully approached Kylian to ask if he could give a few quick words to some television channels. Although Florentino promised that he could ask someone else, understanding that it was a very important day for him, Kylian knew it had to be him who spoke. Not only because he had scored the winning goal or because he was the star player, but because many people were surprised that he had decided to introduce his son today.

Kylian nodded, taking your hand for a moment before heading towards the group of eager journalists. "Take care of our little champion," he said with a smile, kissing Jayce on the forehead and giving you a peck before walking away.

You and Jayce watched from a safe distance as Kylian took the microphone. The journalists started shouting his name to get an exclusive, and the cameras focused on him. "This goal is for my family, especially for my son Jayce," Kylian began, his voice resonating with a mix of pride and emotion. "Today is a very special day, not only because of the victory but because I could share it with the people I love the most. Jayce is an incredible, strong, and brave child, and he inspires me every day to be better both on and off the field. And y/n shows me every day how lucky I am that someone as wonderful as she has decided to spend the rest of her life with me."

The crowd applauded enthusiastically, and many journalists congratulated Kylian, commenting on how Jayce seemed like an intelligent child and was the spitting image of his mother. However, suddenly, a question echoed above all: "Aren’t you ashamed to have a child like that?"

The ensuing silence was palpable, and the atmosphere tensed. Kylian stood still for a moment, processing the insensitivity of the question. However, his expression hardened with determination and calm.

"Did you really just ask that crap?" Kylian responded firmly. "I often criticize the work you do and try to put myself in your shoes, understanding that you are paid to get exclusive news and that often you do things you don't want to. But what you just asked shows your lack of tact and poor education. Jayce is my son, and I am incredibly proud of him. His bravery and spirit are a constant source of inspiration for me. There is nothing to be ashamed of, although if you are a father, I wouldn’t doubt that your children have reasons to be ashamed of you. In fact, having Jayce in my life has taught me more about love, strength, and resilience than anything else. He is an incredible child, and anyone who cannot see that is the one who should feel ashamed."

Kylian's words were met with even louder applause, and many journalists nodded in respect and admiration while booing the other journalist, who couldn’t help but leave embarrassed, trying to hide his face.

From your position, you felt full of pride and gratitude. The way Kylian had handled the situation with dignity and love was a testament to his character. Jayce, although unaware of the full significance of what had happened, seemed to pick up on the positive energy around him, and his face lit up with a smile.

When Kylian finished his brief statement and returned to you, the crowd was still applauding. "You did great, Daddy," Jayce said as he hugged him.

"Thanks, champ," Kylian responded, returning the hug with strength.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #mbappe imagine #mbappe psg #mbappe x reader

210 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 8 months ago

Text

My steddie brain never rests. And neither will I!! Bwahahahaha! *cough cough* Sorry about that.

Eddie is a pirate captain. He is a known terror of the Seven Seas. His ship The Hellfire is known by its fearsome Jolly Roger. The skull has devil's horns and has a cutlass and musket on either side.

His first mate is Jeff and his cabin boy is Dustin.

He has a very dedicated crew. They are loyal to a fault and fiercely protective of their captain.

He is a thorn in the side of Lt. Jason Carver. The man tasked to bring him in.

Eddie has been captured a few times, but always his crew mounts a daring escape.

Final Eddie is caught and Carver isn't going to wait until morning to hang him and give his crew time to save him. He knows he'll catch hell for it later, but Eddie must be stopped.

When Carver comes to get him, he finds Eddie looking out the window at the night sky.

"Praying, Munson?" he sneers. "I didn't think your kind believed in God."

Eddie shakes his head. "No God. I worship starlight."

"Starlight?" Carver mocks. "What's so special about starlight?"

"When the moon is new and the stars stretch on forever," Eddie explains a little breathless, never taking his eyes from the window high above him, "you can find your way if you let the North Star lead you. That's what I believe in. The North Star."

Carver scoffs. "You sound like you're in love with a distant twinkle, Munson. I always knew you were mad, but this takes the cake."

Eddie shakes his head ruefully. "Oh that I could love a star, that it could love me back."

Carver motions to his men and they haul him to his feet.

They take him out to the scaffold where the noose is waiting for him. They put the rope around his neck and he whispers. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

Tears run down his face as they tighten the noose. He closes his eyes.

But before they could pull the handle that would send Eddie plummeting to his death a bright light appears blinding everyone but Eddie because his eyes were closed.

He feels a soft warm hand touch his cheek. "Keep your eyes closed for me, won't you?"

Eddie nods. He doesn't know what's going on but even through his eyelids he can tell the light is too bright.

Suddenly there are sounds of screaming and of people being ripped apart. Eddie squeezes his eyes further shut.

Then the rope is being removed from his neck. "Don't open your eyes yet, love," the warm voice murmurs in his ear.

Eddie shivers but not because of the chill of the night, but because the voice sent a sharp thrill straight to his gut.

Then he's being picked up and carried bridal style. Whoever this is keeps telling him he's all right, that he's safe now.

He get set down gently on his feet.

"You may open your eyes now."

And Eddie does only to be greeted by the most ethereal being he's ever seen.

His hair is dark brown with golden highlights and he has hazel eyes. He's wearing robes that shimmer in the light and he gives off a subtle glow.

"Thank you," Eddie murmurs.

The man gives him a gentle kiss. "I will always watch out for you, my beloved Eddie."

"What's your name?"

"Stella Polaris."

Then in a flash he's gone. He makes it back to his ship and tells them the tale.

They don't believe him at first but whenever a battle is turning against them, a light flashes, blinding their enemies and ensuring their victory.

Eddie makes it back to England and is talking to a scholar, getting the old man drunk in a bar.

He says he's an amateur astronomer and Eddie pumps he for information because of his own love of the stars. And he brings up the North Star.

"Ah," the old man says with a nod. "Stella Polaris, the star that is polar. The one star in the sky you can always rely."

And Eddie is floored. His rescuer was the actual North Star.

That night laying in bed at the inn, Eddie says, "My own star. Well, I'll be damned."

Then Stella Polaris arrives in his room.

Eddie leaps from the bed and kisses him senseless.

"Stella Polaris is a bit of a mouthful for every day, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs between heated kisses. "What should I scream when you fuck me?"

The star laughs. "You can call me Steve."

"Well, come on, then, Stevie," Eddie coos wagging his eyebrows. "The night is young and I have been aching for you since you rescued me."

They tumble into the bed and have sex. The next morning comes, and Eddie wakes up to find a small little starburst scar just a above his heart that he'll later get tattooed.

For the star that fell in love with a pirate and the pirate who loved it back.

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #pirate eddie munson #star steve harrington

197 notes · View notes

halcyonfawn · 1 year ago

Text

the meaning behind "face the raven" theme in "wild blue yonder" and more

a continuation of this post. i need to talk about this otherwise i'll explode.

some people have also said that this theme is playing in "last christmas" and "hell bent" (thank you for pointing that out, i'm going to die) which makes it all even worse (better). therefore, this post is, more or less, destined to turn into capaldi's era brainrot. but not all of it, i promise.

you've been warned.

first of all, allow me to refresh your memory. let's look into the context of the scenes where we heard this music theme before.

"last christmas"

according to series 8 official soundtrack, this theme is a part of "every christmas is last christmas" and is heard quite clearly two times. they're both important scenes for the doctor and clara.

too late.

a moment full of regrets and nostalgia. the doctor thinking he's lost clara again, wishing he would have come back sooner. clara reminicing her life without the doctor in it.

"so no one matched up to danny, eh?" "there was one other man, but that would never have worked out." "why not?" "he was impossible."

it is (heavily) implied that "one other man" is the doctor. does the doctor himself realise that she's talking about him? open for interpretation. but what this small exchange truly does is showing a game of saying something without actually saying it.

"can you really see no difference in me?" "clara oswald, you will never look any different to me."

yet another way of dancing around words. there's something special and touching about this last line. it is sort of a confession of unconditional love. but the word itself - love - is never spoken out loud.

then again, twelfth might be face blind.

second chances.

now, this scene is a complete opposite of the one mentioned above. it's full of hope, anticipation, happiness. a beginning of a new arc. he is given a second chance and he takes it. the doctor asks clara to run away with him once again. and she says "yes" without hesitation, takes his hand, kisses him on the cheek.

conclusion? these two scenes are focused entirely on the doctor and clara's relationship. it is there to show their strong connection, how much they mean to one another. utter devastation at the thought of their time ending and the absolute joy of reuniting after being separated. a chance at a happy ending. which also makes the music that plays on the background their theme.

"face the raven"

"every christmas is last christmas" is now turned into "face the raven" and is asocciated with clara's death. it also makes the previous name even more heartwrenching since last christmas was literally clara and doctor's last hurrah. we can hear this piece of music appear in two scenes as well.

clara's monologue about facing the raven.

"if danny pink can do it so can i. die right. die like i mean it, face the raven. maybe this is what i wanted. maybe this is it. maybe this is why i kept running. maybe this is why i kept taking all those stupid risks, kept pushing it."

she's accepting her fate and aknowleges her recklesness all the way throught the season 9. it was meant to be. there wasn't enough space for two doctors in the tardis.

"i let you get reckless" "why? why shouldn't i be reckless? you're reckless all the bloody time! why can't i be like you?" "clara, there's nothing special about me. i'm nothing but less breakable than you. i should've taken care of you."

this scene is also about how a human life can be so very short compared to the time lord's and how easily it can end. it's fragile. and it's the doctor's curse: bearing the pain of losing his loved ones.

clara meeting her fate.

as she approaches the raven, ever so brave, the doctor watches her. he hears clara scream, then witness her collapsing onto the ground. it is extremely painful, but this is, i repeat, the doctor's curse: watching his companions leave. there's no use in running away from that pain, it haunts him every step of the way.

"hell bent"

next time, "face the raven" theme can be heard during the memory wipe sequence. there is no name given for the background music in this particular moment, but it's quite obvious it represents loss and... letting go?

the doctor is about to make clara forget their time together (does that ring a bell, anyone?).

it is worth pointing out that the music becomes the loudest at the exact moment the doctor says:

"look how far i went for fear of losing you. this has to stop. one of us has to go."

it is the culmination of their relationship. companions that push each other to extremes. together they might destroy the whole universe in order to keep each other safe. there's no other way but to separate. they've formed such a strong connection than one is ought to forget the other.

even though at first the doctor is determined to wipe clara's memories, he then admits she is right: it is unfair to take away all that wonderful time they had from her. so he gives her a choice. or, more like, an offer to play a russian roulette. it's either you or me. i'm not going to press that button. we will do this together.

to summarise: all of these moments featured a strong connection between clara and the doctor. it also tells us a story about how hard it is to lose someone you care about deeply, especially for the doctor.

how is it all connected to the doctor and donna?

memory wipe

the doctor has to make donna and clara forget about him in order to keep them safe. expect that he doesn't give donna a choice, wiping her memory almost instantly, without saying a proper goodbye to her. obviously, he didn't have enough time to think of a better way to solve the problem since donna wouldn't have lasted long. however, it is still a decision he regrets making.

from "the star beast":

"i'm so glad you're back, donna. it killed me, it killed me, it killed me."

if we take a look at clara's situation, it's a bit different. i've already mentioned it above: at first, the doctor wants to do the same thing to clara that he did to donna. make her forget. expect, this time he is confronted for doing so (even threatened, at some point).

"these have been the best years of my life and they're mine."

i think this line triggers something in the doctor. because this is when he realises that this is not the right thing to do. not exactly. he'd already done it once and he regretted it. so this time, he offers a slightly different solution. someone still has to forget, but they'll press that button together. it's a mutual choice.

now, i know it's not entirely related to the dialogue in "wild blue yonder", but i think it's worth mentioning that donna and clara's stories are somewhat similar. i'm sure it's been said before, but it's still important.

donna's story was incomplete because she wasn't given a choice. now, that she remembers, 14th doctor makes sure their time together is worth-while. a second chance just like in "last christams".

too alike

another similarity between these two stories is that clara and donna are not entirely humans. not anymore.

donna's half timelord. even though her head is still not big enough to fit all the doctor's memories, she still has a part of the doctor in her.

clara's frozen in time, that makes her practically immortal. she risks her life, she reverses the polarity of the neuroblock, she gets her own tardis, she's even reffered to as "clara who" at the end of "hell bent". she has become the doctor in a sense.

but there can only be one doctor. so where's the story heading to at this point, i wonder? but we'll come back to this question later.

"but what really happened?"

before i say anything, it is obvious that the doctor's silence before and after he says "a lot" is him reminicing all that'd happened to him during the 11th, 12th and 13th reincarnations. all of the loss and pain he went through.

but why "face the raven" theme of all things? it could be a general theme of grief/nostalgia/painful memories, nothing else implied.

but please let me be delusional for a bit longer!

just as that scene in "hell bent" brought the doctor back to the moment he made donna forget him, could it be that bringing back his best friend's memories in a whole universe that "he absolutely loves", also reminded him of another important person in his life with similar story? just like "hell bent" mirrored "the journey's end", "wild blue younder" gave us a reference to "hell bent".

this is where we get back to the question about the current story direction.

foreshadowing?

donna's story is not over. and there are a lot of possibilities how it can end.

say, there is a connection to clara's story here, i wonder if that's where the plot's heading. in one of the trailers, the doctor does say "i'm not sure if i can save you this time" to donna. and it worries me. then again, maybe they're just tricking us into thinking something bad will happen (oh the drama).

i'd say it's unlikely donna's going to die because that would be absolutely devastating after just bringing her back. at the very least, the ending wouldn't be completely "happily ever after". perhaps, sacrifices will be made in order to prevent something truly horrible from happening.

why did this face come back?

in "the girl who died" twelfth doctor finally realises why he got his face. it is a call-back to "the fires of pompei" (don't even get me started on its being the episode with 10th and donna).

the message the doctor was giving to himself turned out to be:

"i'm the doctor and i save people!"

but what is 14th trying to tell himself?

i think it's about donna and more.

he's fixing his mistake of erasing her memories and depriving her of the right to remember amazing things that'd happened to her.

it's a reminder to actually tell people how much they mean to him. as we can see, 14th's more open with his feelings and constantly shows signs of affection towards his loved ones, even breaking the "never say i love you" rule.

it's about being honest and open with people because they deserve to hear it from him and he deserves to hear it back. because "things happen and then it's too late".

again, take 12th doctor, for instance. he constantly represses his feelings. but in my humble opinion, the reason why he's changed by season 10 was clara. she pulled him out of the dark place. and even though her death almost threw him back to that state again, he is still a better man by season 10.

but there were things left unsaid. love and care were always there but it was never said out loud. kind of the same thing happened with 13th.

i strongly believe that donna is that person for 14th. they're best friends who love each other deeply. and after the doctor lost her and got a second chance to fix everything, he does, he's being affectione. he's finally open with his feelings.

conslusion: why did you make us read all fo this?

to answer the question in the title: it's all tied with how memories are important and priceless, fixing past mistakes, moving on and learning to treasure every moment with people you care about like it's your last.

it can also be a foreshadowing for something terrible, but i choose to hope for the better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

aaaand that is the end of my doctor who rant. thank you for getting this far, if you did!

my feelings about all of this can be described with this one meme:

#doctor who #doctor who meta #dw #dw spoilers #wild blue yonder #twelfth doctor #fourteenth doctor #tenth doctor #donna noble #clara oswald #face the raven #last christmas #hell bent #twelveclara #whouffaldi #i'm sincerely sorry if you've stumbled across some stupid grammatical or other mistakes while reading #i wrote a part of this at 3am #[unhinged analysis]

403 notes · View notes

magiccath · 1 year ago

Text

Tokens of love

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor leaves you love notes around the TARDIS. At least... that's what you think they are

It started as a joke.

“If you’re the Doctor, do you have messy handwriting?” you asked with a laugh, leaning against him. You knew he wasn’t actually a doctor, but you wondered if the stereotype still applied.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” he had deflected, ignoring your comment.

After that, he started leaving notes around the TARDIS. At first, you thought they were for him, reminders to do silly things like sleep and brush his teeth. Then, they started appearing in your spaces. You couldn’t read them, they were in circular Gallifreyan. Even if you were versed in the language, you doubted that you would be able to decipher them. The Doctor’s handwriting was awful. Worse than you could have ever imagined or joked about. The notes looked more like blind scribbles than actual messages.

“What is this?” you asked, holding up a bright yellow sticky note with some scribbles on it.

“A little note for you,” The Doctor grinned childishly, turning his attention back to the console in front of him.

“I don’t read Gallifreyan,” you laughed, sticking the note on the console.

“What does it say?”

The Doctor pulled his glasses out of his pocket and examined the note. You were surprised he could read his own handwriting. After a few moments of deliberation, he pulled back from the note.

“I love you.” He smiled, taking the glasses back off. You had no reason to assume it said anything else.

“Well in that case I’m taking this back,” you huffed, grabbing the note back. You tried your best to hide the blush creeping across your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the Doctor in for a quick kiss. The action left the man flustered and blushing. Even now, your kisses could leave him speechless.

After that, the Doctor started leaving more and more notes for you to find. They were almost all different and scattered in all kinds of places about the TARDIS. By your bed, in your bathroom, buried in the library, or somewhere in the kitchen. Sometimes the Doctor would just give them to you directly, followed by a kiss.

After a while, you stopped asking what they said. It was always a variation of “I love you,” or something regarding how beautiful you were. You found it incredibly sweet, so you kept every single note.

Most of them were bright, colorful sticky notes with short but sweet messages. There were a couple that were longer, and you assumed those to be detailed love letters. The issue was, you couldn’t read a single one.

You had tried to learn circular Gallifreyan, a feat that proved harder than you thought. The Doctor refused to teach you, and there were hardly any books on the language in the TARDIS library. You picked up bits and pieces but they did little to advance your understanding of the strange messages.

Before long you had a thick stack of notes resting on your desk. A messy array of papers and sloppy writing. For the most part, you kept them in the order that you had discovered them. They were some of your most prized possessions. They came from the Doctor, which made them special enough.

One day, Donna was hanging out with you in your room on the TARDIS. These days, she spent more time with you than anyone else, usually mulling about your room. She’d burst in without as much as a knock on your door. You weren’t complaining - the company was nice.

Down the hall, the Doctor was busy with something in the control room. The constant clanging from down the hallway let you know he was still alive.

Donna poked her head out of your bathroom, holding up a note.

“Why do you have Bop It instructions on the bathroom mirror?” Donna asked, confused.

You furrowed your brow and grabbed the note from her. This was the first one he had ever left in English. His handwriting was still awful, but it was more legible than his Gallifreyan.

“What..?” you whispered, equally confused. You turned the note over multiple times in your hands, examining it from every angle. You even turned it upside down, hoping that might explain its peculiar nature. This certainly wasn’t a love note.

You grabbed your stack and flipped through them. It was undoubtedly from the Doctor, the handwriting was unmistakable, and the pen was the same.

“He said these were love notes,” you explained, gesturing to the stack. Donna raised an eyebrow, sending a disapproving look your way.

“I’m not sure Bop It instructions can classify as love notes,” she laughed.

“Maybe to him?” you defended, shrugging slightly. You’d never received love notes before, especially not from an alien, so you didn’t exactly know what to expect.

Donna made a contemplative noise, frowning at the notes. Without asking, she snatched the stack from your hands and stormed off down the hallway. “Donna!” you called after her, flabbergasted. You dashed after her, scared of whatever came next. Donna was not to be trifled with.

The redhead found the Doctor and shoved the stack in front of him. He looked up at her, extremely confused. Panting, you finally caught up with her.

“Read them,” she demanded, hands resting on her hips. You flashed her a disapproving glare, upset with her antics. You weren’t a confrontational person. If it was up to you, you would have just asked him about it.

“Start with that one,” Donna commanded, gesturing to the one she found.

The Doctor frowned down at his writing, realization striking him. He had messed up and written in English. His cover was blown.

“In my defense, the game is in English.” He winced, handing the note back to Donna. “Mix-ups are bound to happen,” he said casually, hoping to play it off.

“You wrote it on purpose?” you asked, confused. Was this his idea of a joke, or did he really think he was being romantic?

“Well…” the Doctor groaned, trying to find the best way to explain it. “I may have been writing you wikiHow articles.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with his own idea of a joke.

“You said they were love notes?!”

The Doctor blushed, averting his gaze. You rolled your eyes. Leave it up to your stupid space boyfriend to leave you wikiHow articles and call them love notes.

“Read them to me,” you said simply, sitting down calmly. “In order,” you added.

The Doctor scrunched his face like the idea was painful, but complied. He couldn’t figure out how to talk his way out of this, so it was best to play along.

“This ought to be good,” Donna laughed, sitting down next to you. The Doctor flipped through the notes, trying to find some of the first ones he had left you. He picked up a bright yellow sticky note, the first one he had ever given you. The one he had claimed read “I love you.”

“How to Grow Cabbage,” he whispered, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it. You cleared your throat and raised your eyebrows disapprovingly. The Doctor blushed and repeated the note louder.

You and Donna exchanged a look of confusion, wondering why the Doctor would leave you such a note.

He turned a darker shade of red as he continued to flip through the notes, looking for the next one.

“How to Keep Cats Out of Your Yard.”

Donna scoffed from next to you. You hid your own smile with your hand, finding the title both useless and comical. The Doctor furrowed his brow at your reactions and continued.

He found a stray note in the pile and frowned at it, clearly upset by its contents.

“I didn’t write this one,” he claimed, eyes wide. You moved closer to him, trying to read the note over his shoulder.

“What does it say?”

“How to Be Less Talkative,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oi!” Donna laughed, flashing the man a disapproving look. Behind him, you giggled, finding his defensiveness cute.

“I swear, that wasn’t me!” the Doctor argued, looking up at you with pleading eyes. He was terrified you would be offended or mad at him. Instead, you seemed to find the situation hilarious.

“You talk more than both of us!” Donna laughed, pointing at the Doctor.

He furrowed his brow and groaned, “I didn’t write it!” He argued. You smiled warmly, enjoying the banter between your friends.

The TARDIS thrummed behind the Doctor, the sound barely audible over the laughter.

“Meddler,” he growled, presuming the ship had left the message for you. He frowned at the note in his hands, hoping the ship didn’t just ruin his relationship with you.

“It’s ok.” You smiled, reassuring the Doctor. You sat back down next to him, taking the note from his hands and setting it aside. You picked out a larger letter from the pile, one that you had tried for weeks to decipher. With a smile, you handed it to him, “What does this one say?”

“How to Eliminate Monsters Under the Bed,” he said with a seriousness that felt out of place.

“Is this your idea of a love letter?” Donna teased, taking the paper from his hands. She squinted at it, but still couldn’t read it. It just looked like scribbles to her.

“It’s useful!” he argued, almost pouting.

You tilted your head in confusion, waiting for him to elaborate.

“It could save your life someday,” he said earnestly, looking you in the eye. You genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being serious. The Doctor could say crazy things and mean them. You looked over at Donna, hoping she might have some insight into his truthfulness, but she looked equally confused. Deciding to move on, you handed the Doctor another sticky note.

“How to Shower With a Lemon.”

You squinted, trying to process the words coming out of the Doctor’s mouth.

“You made that one up,” Donna laughed, waving him away.

“Lemons are actually good for your skin,” the Doctor stated. He continued on about their benefits, but if you were being honest you got a bit lost. He had a habit of going off on rambling tangents, and quite often you got lost in his rushed words. Judging by Donna’s far-off look, she was equally lost.

“It’s not that unusual,” he shrugged, signaling the end of his tangent. You smiled and nodded, pretending that you understood any of the words he had just said.

“This is a good one.” He smiled, picking up a neon green sticky note from the pile.

“How to Calculate Pi by Throwing Frozen Hot Dogs.”

“There’s no way you didn’t make that one up,” Donna argued, determined she was right.

“It’s a real thing!” The Doctor frowned.

“That’s something straight from your whacky Martian brain!”

“For the last time,” the Doctor groaned, running his hands down his face, “I’m not from Mars.”

“He had to have made it up,” Donna said, turning to you. You shrugged, completely unsure.

While your friends continued to argue, you took the liberty of looking it up. Sure enough, it was a real thing. Upon further research, you found that multiple people were responsible for writing and editing the article. Neither the Doctor nor any of his aliases were listed.

“It’s real.” You smiled sadly, handing your phone over to Donna. You watched as her eyes danced across the screen. A crinkle formed between her eyes, the cogs turning endlessly in her brain

“You used multiple accounts to cover up the fact that you wrote it,” She glared.

“I would never!” he gasped, clutching his chest.

Donna rolled her eyes, clearly not believing him. To be fair, it did seem like something he would do.

You smiled to yourself, having found their argument both entertaining and adorable.

When Donna wasn’t looking, the Doctor winked at you. You frowned, confused as to what he was hinting.

Ignoring you, he picked up the next note and read it out loud, “How to Sneak Your Cat Into Work.” He continued to flip through the notes before finding the next one.

“How to Apologize to a Cat.”

“For someone who dislikes cats so much, you sure did leave me a lot of notes regarding them…” you pointed out, leaning into the Doctor’s shoulder. From the corner, you heard Donna let out a little laugh. The man ignored you two and continued on.

“How to Flush a British Toilet.” He smiled at the note, clearly proud of himself.

“We end up in Britain a lot,” he explained to you with a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes, “I know how to flush a toilet, love.”

“How to Be Random.”

“You’re one to talk!” you laughed, playfully shoving the Doctor. Donna burst into laughter, pointing at the Doctor. He looked between the two of you, bewildered and confused.

“I have a reason for everything I do.” He frowned, upset at the accusation. “I don’t just do things on a whim.”

The last comment made you and Donna lose it. You almost fell out of your chair with laughter, which only seemed to upset the Doctor even more.

“I think your laughter is more than displaced,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You tried to reel in your laughter to comfort him, but his grumpy face only made you laugh more.

Ignoring you, he started to rattle off more notes.

“How to Listen to Music, How to High Five, How to Walk.”

“Doctor,” you started to ease your laughter, “We don’t walk much, we always seem to be running for our lives.” You smiled, proud of your quip.

“Well, you do waddle a little,” the Doctor shrugged nonchalantly, continuing on before you could protest too much.

“How to Breathe.”

“Wait,” Donna interrupted, “that’s a normal human reflex.” You nodded, agreeing with her comment.

“Seems like a fairly useless article to me,” you added.

The Doctor looked warily between you and Donna, his eyes lingering on the redhead. When you turned to laugh with her, he attempted to hide one of the longer letters. Catching his motion from the corner of your eye, you stopped him.

“What’s this one?” you asked, snagging the letter from his hands. The Doctor avoided eye contact, debating various possible responses. He settled on the truth.

“How to Be Human.”

“I am human,” you laughed, clearly finding the letter a joke. The Doctor didn’t share your amusement. He stared at you with a curious expression, almost like he was studying you. He made a small humming noise that suggested he didn’t believe you.

“I am!” you repeated with an uncomfortable laugh. The Doctor looked between you and Donna again before giving you a knowing look. He presumed your reluctance was due to the other woman in the room, though he didn’t believe your protests.

“How to Become a Philosopher,” the Doctor read, looking around the room for reactions. Much to his dismay, you and Donna remained silent. You were still reeling from the last one.

The Doctor frowned at the remaining notes, desperately not wanting to read them. He rushed through them, hoping to go too fast for you to understand.

“How to Romance a Man, How to Get a Man to Marry You, How to Apply For a Marriage Licence in Alaska, How to Dress For a Wedding, How to Stop a Wedding, How to-”

You cut the Doctor off, “I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Are you trying to say something?”

The Doctor looked at you innocently, as if he hadn’t just tried to avoid the whole ordeal.

“The last five notes mentioned marriage.”

“Six,” Donna corrected, counting them off on her fingers.

“Are you trying to…” you thought about the last one, “Stage a wedding?” you asked.

Then it occurred to you. Maybe the Doctor was trying to propose to you. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about marrying the Doctor. You’d been dating for years, and you loved the man more than you had ever loved anything else. You couldn’t imagine your life without him. You had just assumed that was never something he wanted for the two of you. Franky, you were fine with it. You didn’t need a ring to know the Doctor loved you, he showed you that in his own ways.

“Or are you trying to propose to me?”

Now it was Donna’s turn to look shocked. Her gaze darted between the two of you, her mouth hanging open in shock. The Doctor turned bright red and averted his gaze.

“Because it definitely needs work,” you added, scrunching your nose. “How to Stop a Wedding is kind of misleading.”

Donna was still staring at you, a little too shocked for words.

“Is that what you were trying to ask me?” you clarified, hoping you hadn’t read too much into it.

“Maybe,” the Doctor said quietly. Donna let out a pained squeak.

“Maybe I’d say yes.”

The Doctor lit up. One of his signature grins took over his face and he jumped up from his seat.

“Really?” he asked. You nodded, you’d never been more sure of anything in your life.

The Doctor wrapped his arms around your waist, excitedly lifting you off of the floor. You threw your head back, happily laughing. The Doctor planted kisses all over your face, placing his lips anywhere he could. Finally, he settled on your lips.

“You’re getting married!” Donna finally processed, throwing her hands up in excitement. The Doctor pulled away from you with a smile, gently setting you back down.

“We’re getting married,” you giggled, hardly able to contain your excitement.

“We need to get to the space registry!” Donna clapped excitedly, already moving towards the TARDIS console.

“Marriage isn’t even a concept in many civilizations why would there be-”

“Shut it, spaceman,” Donna snapped, gesturing to the TARDIS. The Doctor rolled his eyes but complied.

“I still have my wedding dress if you need it,” she said, elbowing the Doctor in the side but looking at you.

“It doesn’t have pockets,” he grumbled, remembering the first time he met Donna. Donna rolled her eyes, clearly unbothered by the idea.

“Do you remember your wedding?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in disapproval. Donna scrunched up her face, a clear sign of disgust.

“Don’t remind me.”

You giggled, also remembering the first time you met Donna.

“We can get pockets added,” you reassured, taking the Doctor’s hand. He smiled down at you and nodded, letting go of your hand to pilot the TARDIS.

After a short, fairly smooth flight, the ship landed with its usual thump. You wobbled on your feet, but the Doctor wrapped an arm around you for support.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Chiswick, Donna’s house.”

“What? Why?” She frowned, confused.

“I figure Wilfred is going to want to come, and we need to pick up that dress.”

Donna nodded, understanding. The three of you started to walk out of the TARDIS.

“We also need to go to a tailor,” he added, grabbing his coat from its spot by the door.

“For pockets?” Donna laughed, grabbing her own coat.

“Obviously,” he said, “I’m not walking around without pockets. Plus, it might need some alterations,” he continued, gesturing to his long frame in comparison to Donna’s.

Donna stopped in her tracks, eyes practically bulging out of her head. She shook her head, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Behind them, you giggled lightly. Regaining her thought process she opened her mouth,

“I’m sorry… what?!”

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #the doctor #Donna noble #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #david tennant

386 notes · View notes

amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Note

May I be so bold to ask for a fic?

PLATONIC Modern day reader gets sent back in time/ universe to the avengers.

Life is going as expected now that they have taken her in, yes even though she’s 21 in a Time were she supposed to be 10 years old is weird, you get used to it.

Imagine though it’s the middle of the battle of New York, all of a sudden JARVIS says you appear to be having a panic attack based on your vitals, and he cant see you due to the cameras on the floor being down.

Now everyone thinks this is a Tony kind of panic attack, so imagine the surprise when they see reader flying down in a half put together Ironman suit (boots chest gloves and helmet) swinging a metal baseball bat at some aliens with thunderstruck playing in the back.

Tony- “that’s my girl!!!”

Bonus if Tony from the future (when they all went back in time) sees the reader and just cry’s a little bit an still cheering goes “that’s my little girl”

I never see fics with people that are used to getting random panic attacks and are pretty good at handling it.

TIME TRAVELER

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, fluff, a little angst

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: just what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): time traveling, panic attack but well handled

ᯓ★ I really hope you like the story because I had some troubles understanding what you meant in your ask, but I tried my best and hope you like it! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You know something is wrong the moment you open your eyes.

You’re lying on your back, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, one that’s definitely not yours. Gone are the grey metal slabs and dusty air filters of the Avengers compound. In their place is something sleek, futuristic even, a ceiling lined with recessed lights and small silver vents, like it’s from a science fiction movie. The air smells new—no, it smells like money. It’s a rich, clean scent, faintly mixed with the lingering aroma of coffee and a trace of cologne.

You sit up, groggy, disoriented, the faint ache of too many sleepless nights reminding you that, yes, everything that happened—the Snap, the losses, the grief—all of that was real.

Or… was it?

No. You refuse to entertain the thought that you might’ve dreamed up a whole nightmare. But something is definitely wrong, because the last thing you remember is… being in the lab. You and the others had been there, going over the latest quantum research to get everyone back. And then—nothing. Just a sudden, blinding light and then… this place.

Panic grips you as you swing your legs off the bed and take a look around. The room itself is lavish. Glass walls line one side, letting sunlight stream in with an almost blinding intensity. Beyond the glass, you can make out the towering skyline of New York City in the daylight. Which, given the circumstances, feels strange enough—when’s the last time you saw anything but darkness or emergency lights back at the compound?

Trying to gather your thoughts, you push yourself to your feet, glancing down at your clothing. You’re dressed… strangely. Not in the clothes you put on yesterday, but a loose-fitting T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants that don’t belong to you. You reach up, patting your hair, finding it slightly mussed, like you just woke up from a long, unplanned nap.

Your pulse quickens. Nothing about this makes sense.

A soft click behind you sends you whirling around, only to see the glass door to the room slide open. In strides Tony Stark—unmistakable with his confident swagger, his trademark Iron Man T-shirt, and a curious gleam in his eye. But it’s not the Tony Stark you’ve come to know in these last few years of grief and recovery, the one who’d been almost completely worn down by the fight to fix the world. No—this Tony looks younger, brighter, with sharper edges and that familiar arrogant smirk that makes your breath hitch.

He stops in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he gives you an appraising look. “So,” he says, drawing out the word, “you gonna explain why you were taking an unscheduled nap in one of my guest rooms?”

There’s no warmth, no familiarity in his tone. And why would there be? You realize, heart pounding, that this isn’t just any Tony Stark. This is 2012 Tony Stark.

You swallow, trying to keep the panic from spilling over. This is impossible. You’d read up on every theory, every bizarre scenario Doctor Strange and Bruce had briefed you on, but none of them involved anything like this.

“I… I think there’s been a mistake,” you manage to stammer, knowing just how lame it sounds, and yet not knowing what else to say.

“A mistake?” Tony raises an eyebrow, stepping fully into the room, hands on his hips. “Right. A mistake. So, just to clarify, you, a complete stranger, just happened to show up in my guest room, dressed in pajamas I definitely didn’t provide, as part of some cosmic mistake?”

You nod slowly, your throat dry as you search for words. “Yes,” you say quietly. “I mean, no. I mean… I don’t know.” You close your eyes, willing your brain to function. “The last thing I remember, I was in the Avengers compound, in 2023.”

“2023?” he repeats, his eyebrows shooting up. “Okay, so now we’re time traveling. Makes total sense.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his eyes are sharper than ever, scrutinizing every detail of you. “All right, let’s go with that. What’s your name, Miss 2023?”

You blink, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. You hadn’t expected the encounter to go this way—hadn’t even expected to have an encounter like this at all. “(Y/N),” you say finally. “My name is (Y/N).”

He gives a thoughtful nod. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N) from the future. I’m Tony Stark, but you already knew that.” He pauses, giving you a look that’s equal parts amused and wary. “So, mind telling me how you got here?”

“That’s… the thing,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t know. I was working on some experiments with quantum mechanics, and there was this… flash of light, and then I was just here.” You glance around, realizing that it feels just as bizarre to you as it probably does to him. “And I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t think I’d end up here. Or end up… meeting you.”

The smirk fades from his face, replaced by something more guarded. “Quantum mechanics, huh?” He crosses his arms again, his expression growing serious. “Let’s pretend, just for fun, that what you’re saying is possible. That you somehow popped out of 2023, dodging all kinds of laws of physics, and ended up here. Which, by the way, happens to be 2012. Care to explain why?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, feeling more and more vulnerable with each word. “All I know is that something went wrong. The tech we were working with… it’s not fully stable yet. It could have triggered something, maybe even pulled me into some kind of anomaly.” You stop, trying to read his reaction, but he’s impossible to read, his face completely inscrutable.

“An anomaly,” he echoes, almost thoughtfully. For a second, his expression softens, like he’s trying to imagine what you’re describing, before he snaps back to his usual, unflappable self. “Well, (Y/N), welcome to the past. I’d offer you a drink, but something tells me you might not be in the mood.”

You exhale sharply, trying to resist the urge to pace. “This doesn’t make sense. I don’t belong here. This is years before… before everything. Before the Battle of New York, before the Avengers Initiative really took off.” You pause, your eyes widening. “Wait, you haven’t… You haven’t even gone through that yet?”

“Not sure how much of my life you think you know,” he says, quirking an eyebrow, “but yeah, the big alien invasion hasn’t exactly been penciled into my calendar yet.”

You swallow, feeling the weight of your situation settle even heavier around you. This isn’t just a strange turn of events. You’re in a different reality, back in the days when the Avengers barely knew each other. Tony hasn’t even faced Loki yet; the wounds from that invasion haven’t left their mark on him.

“Tony, I… I think I’ve gone back in time,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Congratulations,” he says with a humorless chuckle. “Now, that’s a party trick I’d actually like to know about.”

As he studies you, his gaze sharpens, like he’s considering what to do with you. But then his phone buzzes, and he glances down at the screen, momentarily distracted. It’s just enough for you to get your bearings.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus, to think of what Doctor Strange would say, what he might suggest in a situation like this. He always had a contingency plan—always had a way of approaching the impossible with a methodical mind.

“So,” Tony says, tucking his phone away and turning his attention back to you. “I take it you’ve got a rough idea of what happens next in my life?”

Your hesitation must be clear, because he holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking for spoilers. Just… let’s say, hypothetically, I’m not as skeptical as I’m letting on.”

It’s clear he’s testing you, trying to see if you’ll slip up, if you’ll give away some hidden detail about the future. You can almost see the wheels turning behind those dark, piercing eyes, and you’re caught between two urges—to convince him of the truth and to protect him from it. How much can you tell him? How much should you tell him?

“I know enough,” you answer cautiously. “Enough to know that this could be dangerous. And that I need to get back. I don’t belong here.”

“Well,” he says, gesturing around the room, “you’re here now. And if you’re really from the future, then there’s a reason for that. If you’ve got even a single thread of an idea of how to reverse this little slip through time, I’d suggest you hold onto it, because as far as I know, I don’t have any quick fixes for ‘accidental time travel.’”

He’s right, of course. No matter how much you might wish it, there’s no easy answer. And for the first time, you realize that you’re truly, utterly out of your depth. You’re in 2012. The Tony Stark you know isn’t quite this Tony Stark, and the Avengers are far from the team they eventually become.

But as you meet Tony’s gaze, you can’t help but feel a strange, almost unexplainable reassurance. This is Tony Stark, after all. The same man who built a suit of armor in a cave, who can adapt to anything life throws his way. If anyone’s going to help you figure this out, it’s him.

“All right, then,” you say softly, a hint of determination in your voice. “Let’s figure this out.”

And just like that, Tony Stark—the 2012 version, at least—gives you a faint, approving smirk.

“Well, time traveler,” he says, almost affectionately, “welcome to the club.”

Absolutely! Let’s continue this and dig deeper into the tension and awe of meeting the Avengers in their early days. Here’s the next section for you:

It doesn’t take long for Tony to inform Nick Fury of your strange arrival, though you’re not sure if he’s calling it in as an “emergency” or just sheer curiosity. By the next morning, Tony’s guiding you down a hallway of Stark Tower toward a conference room, giving you little more than a reassuring nod and a devilish smirk as he leads the way.

"Just be yourself,” he says with mock encouragement. “They’re all a bit paranoid, but we’ll work with it.”

The thought of meeting them—the Avengers, as they were in 2012—stirs something inside you, both excitement and dread. It’s impossible not to feel overwhelmed at the prospect of facing the familiar faces you know from the world after the Snap, but now stripped of the experiences and battles that hardened them. You remind yourself not to expect too much, to remember they’re different versions of themselves here—strangers, almost. As you take a deep breath to steady yourself, you can already hear Fury’s voice from down the hall, smooth and commanding.

Tony holds the door open for you, a smirk lingering on his lips. “After you, time traveler.”

You step inside, and Nick Fury’s one good eye pins you with a look so intense you feel almost frozen in place. Dressed in his black trench coat, with his signature eyepatch, Fury’s gaze alone is enough to confirm that he’s as imposing as ever. Standing around the room, waiting with a mix of skepticism and curiosity, are the other original Avengers: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Clint Barton.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Fury begins without preamble. “I don’t know who you are, where you came from, or what kind of science experiment brought you here. But Stark seems to think you’re worth our time, so I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself.”

Every gaze is trained on you, and suddenly, all the things you had been preparing to say feel like sand slipping through your fingers. You glance at Tony, who only offers you a shrug and a faintly amused smile. He’s enjoying this, clearly.

You clear your throat. “My name is (Y/N). And I’m… Well, I’m not exactly from here. I’m from a different time. The year 2023, to be exact.”

There’s a palpable tension in the room as you speak, each Avenger processing your words in their own way. You can feel Steve Rogers watching you, eyes sharp and calculating as he assesses you, while Natasha leans back in her chair, a faint smirk playing on her lips, more curious than suspicious.

Bruce steps forward cautiously. “You’re from the future?”

You nod slowly, feeling the weight of their disbelief. “It wasn’t intentional, believe me. I was working on a project with… well, with Tony and some of the others. Something must have gone wrong, because the next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Time travel,” Clint scoffs, crossing his arms as he narrows his eyes at you. “Sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie.”

“It does,” you agree. “Believe me, this isn’t exactly how I wanted to start my week either.”

Fury’s brow furrows as he studies you intently. “If what you’re saying is true, you know things about the future. Events. People.”

There’s a pause. You know the answer he’s looking for, and you’re prepared to give it. But the thought of revealing too much, of saying the wrong thing… You don’t know what kind of impact it could have, and even in 2023, people warned against messing with the timeline. Doctor Strange had made it clear that even the smallest shifts could ripple outwards in unpredictable ways.

“I… I can’t say too much,” you admit, feeling the weight of everyone’s scrutiny. “I know things, yes, but if I start talking about specifics, I don’t know what kind of consequences that might have. I don’t want to risk changing anything important.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, arms folded, her expression skeptical. “So you’re from the future, you can’t tell us anything about it, and we’re supposed to just… believe you?”

Tony, watching the exchange with keen interest, cuts in, “Hey, I’m the skeptic in the room here, and even I think there’s something to this. She knows about things she shouldn’t. Things no one outside of SHIELD should even have access to.”

Fury nods, turning back to you. “So why don’t you give us something harmless? Something to prove you’re telling the truth that won’t mess with the timeline.”

You pause, your mind racing. There’s one thing that comes to mind—a detail that should be inconsequential enough, but that would be enough to convince them of your legitimacy.

“All right,” you say slowly, looking at Fury. “You have a hidden eye scanner behind the painting in your office that only recognizes you, Maria Hill, and Director Pierce.”

Fury’s face hardens, a flicker of surprise passing over his expression. For the first time, he seems truly convinced. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” you say quietly. “I’ve been in your office more times than I can count.”

Silence settles over the room as they process this revelation. Natasha exchanges a glance with Clint, while Bruce looks at you with newfound curiosity, the scientist in him piqued.

Steve steps forward, his voice softer, more open than the others. “If you’re from the future, then… that means you know what’s coming. Are we in danger?”

It’s a loaded question, one that instantly makes your throat tighten. The instinct to tell him everything—the invasion, the battles, the losses—is overwhelming. But you’ve been trained for situations like this, for protecting information even if it’s difficult.

“Yes,” you say carefully, meeting his gaze. “But you’re strong enough to face it. All of you.”

Steve nods, his jaw set, seeming satisfied with your answer even if it’s not as detailed as he might like. There’s a resilience in him, even at this early stage, that feels like a warm thread connecting this version of Steve to the man you know from the future.

Fury, however, doesn’t seem quite as content. He steps closer, crossing his arms as he looks you over. “I hope you understand the situation you’re in, Miss…?”

“(Y/N),” you repeat, your tone respectful but firm. “And yes, I do.”

“Good. Because as long as you’re here, you’re going to be under SHIELD’s supervision. You’re a risk, whether you mean to be or not.”

“Understood.”

“Then we’ll get you set up with temporary accommodations,” he says, his tone all business. He nods to the group. “Everyone, I want you to keep an eye on our visitor. See what you can learn. And if she can help, even better.”

The meeting disperses, the Avengers filing out one by one. You can feel their eyes on you, some friendly, others more reserved. Bruce, though cautious, gives you a faint nod before leaving. Steve, always the gentleman, offers a polite smile, though you can see the curiosity and concern in his gaze. Natasha and Clint exchange a look before walking out, their silent communication something you recognize instantly; you’ve seen them do this a thousand times in the future.

As the last of them leave, Tony’s still lingering by the door, leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed as he watches you with a mixture of intrigue and something else—an awareness, maybe, that he knows more about you than the others.

When the room finally empties, you let out a long breath, shoulders slumping as the tension eases. Tony steps back inside, glancing around before giving you a lopsided grin. “Well, you survived your first interrogation. Not bad for a time traveler.”

You manage a weak smile. “It could’ve gone worse, I guess.”

“Could’ve gone a lot worse,” he agrees. “For what it’s worth, you did pretty well back there. Kept things vague enough to avoid causing a paradox or whatever, but gave them just enough to work with.”

You nod, biting back the urge to spill everything right then and there. The urge to confide in him—to tell him everything you know about the future, about how he changes, how he sacrifices so much—is almost unbearable. But the thought of how much damage you could cause keeps you silent.

Tony seems to sense the turmoil behind your eyes, because he rests a hand on your shoulder, the touch surprisingly grounding. “Look, I’m no expert in whatever quantum mechanics or time travel theory you’ve got going on, but I can tell when someone’s carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.”

You glance up at him, startled by the gentleness in his voice. “I just… I don’t want to mess anything up,” you confess. “You all have so much ahead of you. So much you’re going to accomplish, and I don’t want to take that from you.”

He gives you a long, searching look, the cocky demeanor fading as he considers your words. “Then don’t. Just take it one day at a time. Hell, take it one minute at a time. You don’t have to carry the whole future on your shoulders, okay?”

There’s something about the way he says it that fills you with a small, fragile hope. You nod, finding strength in his words. For now, you’ll follow his advice—take it

slow, one minute at a time. Because the Avengers here in 2012 are still in their early days, still unscarred by the battles that lie ahead. And as long as you’re here, you’ll do everything in your power to protect that future without changing it.

Together, you and Tony leave the conference room, each step carrying you deeper into a past you know too well yet can’t afford to let yourself alter. It’s a delicate balancing act, but one thing is clear: with Tony by your side, you just might have a chance to figure this out.

Over the next few days, you start to settle in among the 2012 Avengers, trying to adjust to the surreal reality of getting to know them as strangers. They’re cautious, skeptical, yet undeniably intrigued by you and your claim to be from the future. You try to be as helpful as you can without tipping off the events that lie ahead, slowly building their trust by sharing bits of innocuous information—small things that don’t seem significant enough to impact the timeline but reveal just enough to confirm you’re telling the truth.

Steve is the first to approach you, polite but with his guard up, as he invites you to join him in the gym. You recognize the familiar tension in his shoulders as he goes through his training routine, movements precise and controlled.

“So,” he starts, without looking at you. “You seem to know quite a lot about us. Or, at least, about who we’ll become.” He catches the punching bag on its swing back, steadying it with a quick, efficient grip. “Care to share a few details?”

You think carefully, picking a memory you know won’t alter his future. “You and I fought together a lot, actually,” you say, smiling. “And it was an honor. You’re one of the best fighters I know.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised, but there’s a small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “Coming from someone trained by Stark, that means something.”

“Actually,” you correct, a hint of laughter escaping, “you trained me, too. When I joined the team in the future, you helped me with my technique. You insisted on it.”

He seems pleased by this, nodding thoughtfully. “Guess that makes sense.” He pauses, looking down. “Good to know I’m still around in the future.”

The words catch you off guard, but you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Yeah. You’re… very important to all of us.”

He gives a small, appreciative nod, not pressing for more. Trust forms slowly between you two as he begins to open up, sharing some of his own hesitations about being part of the Avengers. It’s subtle, almost shy—the beginning of a mutual understanding that grows from small gestures and quiet support.

It’s Natasha who finds you next, joining you in the kitchen as you’re grabbing a snack. Clint follows soon after, leaning casually against the counter with an appraising look.

“So, future girl,” Clint says, popping a grape in his mouth. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

Natasha, sitting across from you, is more direct. “If you can’t tell us everything, then tell us one harmless thing about me and Clint. Something that won’t change anything.”

You think about it, wondering what would be safe to share. Then you recall something small, a tiny detail from the future that has no bearing on any grand event but makes you smile.

“All right. You two like to compete over who can pull off the crazier stunt in the field,” you say, grinning. “It’s… kind of legendary, actually.”

Clint chuckles, leaning back. “Legendary? You hear that, Nat? We’re legends.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint hint of a smile on her lips. “Legendary, huh? So, who usually wins?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, you do, of course.”

Clint throws his hands up, feigning outrage. “What? I’m pretty sure I would win that fight.”

Natasha’s expression doesn’t change, but you can see the amusement flickering in her eyes as she watches you. For the first time, there’s a hint of trust and warmth there, a softness that she usually keeps hidden. It’s a small moment, but one that feels like progress.

Bruce is one of the quieter members of the team, and for days he keeps his distance, observing you with a mix of curiosity and wariness. He’s naturally cautious, and you can tell he’s wrestling with a thousand questions.

It’s not until you’re alone in the lab, tinkering with some outdated equipment, that he finally approaches.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he begins, pushing his glasses up as he studies you. “In the future, do I… do I get a handle on things? On myself?”

You hesitate, knowing exactly what he means. In 2023, Bruce has indeed found balance, integrating his two selves into what he calls “Professor Hulk.” But you’re not sure if it’s wise to tell him something so significant. You decide to keep it vague, focusing on the reassurance he seems to need.

“You make peace with yourself, Bruce,” you say softly, offering him a warm smile. “You become… someone incredible. And the world is better for it.”

His shoulders relax, and he seems to breathe a little easier. “I’m glad to hear that. Sometimes it’s… hard to imagine things ever being different.”

“They will be,” you assure him, your voice filled with certainty. “Trust me.”

From that day on, Bruce seems more at ease around you, and he even starts inviting you to join him in the lab, talking to you about theories and experiments in ways that remind you of the future you left behind.

After a week of cautiously earning the team’s trust, Tony decides to host an impromptu “team bonding” night in his penthouse—a sort of welcome-to-the-past celebration for you. The others show up, mingling and relaxing, and as you watch them, the differences between these younger Avengers and the versions you know in the future become all the more apparent.

Steve still holds himself a little apart from the group, clearly unused to being surrounded by people who look to him for leadership. Natasha’s edges are sharper, her eyes always watchful, as if she’s waiting for the next mission. Clint is easygoing but guarded, wary of anyone outside his tight circle. Bruce is quieter, more reserved, his mind constantly turning over unspoken questions, while Tony… Tony is, in some ways, exactly the same, though his arrogance feels almost untested, his confidence still untempered by the battles that await him.

At some point in the evening, Clint challenges you to a game of darts, while Natasha observes from the side with her usual unshakable calm. Clint’s sharp eyes and steady hand give him the advantage, but you manage to keep up, hitting the bullseye once or twice.

“Not bad,” Clint says, grudgingly impressed. “Maybe you’re not all talk.”

“Oh, I’m definitely all talk,” you joke, smiling as Natasha chuckles softly beside you.

Steve and Bruce, seated across the room, are deep in conversation, and Tony—well, he’s regaling the group with his latest plans for Stark Tower, gesturing wildly as he describes his latest tech upgrade ideas.

Seeing them all together like this, young and full of potential, is a strange experience. It’s almost bittersweet, knowing what lies ahead for each of them and yet realizing they have no idea. You hold back the memories, keeping your face neutral, not wanting to give anything away.

But at some point, Steve catches your eye from across the room, and he gestures for you to join him. As you approach, he shifts uncomfortably, clearly thinking through something serious.

“You seem to know us… really well,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “But we hardly know anything about you.”

The others fall silent, turning their attention to you. The question isn’t exactly unexpected, but it catches you off guard nonetheless. What can you say to them that won’t give away too much, that won’t ruin the innocence they have here?

“Well,” you begin, choosing your words carefully, “I joined the Avengers because I wanted to help. You all inspired me. You made me feel like… like the world was worth saving.”

Steve seems touched by this, and you can see a faint sense of pride and surprise in his expression.

“It’s strange,” Bruce says, smiling faintly. “Thinking of ourselves as… inspirations.”

“You are,” you assure them. “All of you. I can’t say much, but… the Avengers become something big. You make a difference. And even when things get hard, you never give up. None of you.”

Tony raises his glass, flashing you that familiar, playful grin. “Here’s to being legendary, then,” he declares, and the others lift their glasses in a quiet toast.

As they take their sips, you feel the weight of your secret settle back on your shoulders. You know you’ll need to leave someday, that the version of you who fought beside the Avengers in 2023 belongs to a different time. But for now, here in this moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can make things a little better.

Trust builds gradually, each Avenger letting you in a little more each day. Clint eventually invites you to join him and Natasha for target practice, jokingly betting on whether you can keep up. Bruce starts consulting you on his experiments, asking for your advice with a respect you never thought possible from the reticent scientist. Steve includes you in his training routines, guiding you with gentle patience, his easy confidence growing every day. And Tony—well, Tony becomes a constant companion, checking in on you, teasing you, always eager to draw out your knowledge of the future without pushing too far.

The team is becoming something more than just an assignment or a mission. They’re becoming your friends.

One day, when the group gathers in the common room, Steve suggests sparring matches as a team-bonding exercise. Clint and Natasha go first, their movements sharp and perfectly

in sync, and the others watch, laughing and cheering as the pair battle it out. As you join in the fun, you catch Tony’s eye, and he gives you an approving nod.

Thor arrives with all the grandeur you remember: the flash of lightning, the distant rumble of thunder, and his booming voice filling Stark Tower as he greets the team. The others seem mostly unfazed, having grown accustomed to their Asgardian ally’s dramatic entrances, but you can’t help the flood of memories that come rushing back. Here he is—the same Thor you know from 2023, yet younger, less tempered by the losses and battles he’ll face. The unshakeable pride, the wide-eyed enthusiasm for Midgard—it’s all there, untouched by the trials that lie ahead.

He strides into the room, his golden armor gleaming, the red cape flaring behind him, and, of course, Mjolnir in his grip. Thor’s blue eyes twinkle with mischief and curiosity as they land on you, and his deep voice carries an unmistakable warmth.

“And who might you be?” he booms, glancing at Tony and raising an eyebrow.

“This,” Tony says, stepping forward with a half-smile, “is our new resident time traveler. She’s from the future, knows a few things, but she’s under strict instructions not to mess with any timelines.”

You manage a smile, offering Thor a small wave. “Hi, Thor. It’s… nice to see you.”

He steps closer, giving you a curious look. “You know me, then?”

“Oh, yes,” you say, trying not to give too much away. “I know you very well. You’re… quite the hero where I come from.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “A hero, indeed! Well, I am glad to hear that even in the future, the people of Midgard recognize greatness!” His laugh echoes through the room, and he claps Tony on the shoulder. “And Stark, I trust you are as impressive in the future as you are now?”

“Oh, I’m impressive,” Tony replies, flashing a grin, though you catch a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. You know Tony doesn’t like to talk about the future, especially when it comes to his own destiny.

It doesn’t take long for the team to settle back into their routines with Thor joining them, and that night, Tony and Thor chat quietly in the common area. Tony seems relaxed, yet there’s a quiet intensity to his gaze whenever he glances at you. You’ve noticed it more and more over the past few days—the way Tony’s curiosity has shifted into something more protective, like he’s trying to read between the lines of everything you say, preparing himself for the worst, even if he’s pretending not to.

Later, after most of the team has dispersed, Tony approaches you, hands in his pockets, his expression pensive.

“You know,” he says softly, “Thor’s arrival means that Loki isn’t far behind. The whole reason he comes to Earth right now is… well, because of the Tesseract.” He leans in, his voice low. “The Battle of New York, right? That’s coming up?”

You nod, feeling the familiar pang of helplessness. “Yeah. It’s… it’s coming soon.”

He watches you carefully, something searching in his gaze. “And you can’t say anything that would help us?”

The question hangs in the air, both of you understanding the weight of it. You swallow hard, shaking your head. “I can’t, Tony. I wish I could. But if I do, I risk changing everything that’s supposed to happen.”

Tony’s face is unreadable, but there’s a hint of frustration there, a simmering anger he’s clearly holding back. “So, what are you supposed to do then? Just… stand by and watch us walk into a war without warning?”

You feel his words like a punch to the gut. You hate this part—the helplessness, the burden of knowing exactly how things are going to unfold and being powerless to stop it. But you also know what’s at stake if you interfere.

“Yes,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t change anything, Tony. Even if it hurts to stand by and watch, even if I wish I could do more.”

His expression softens slightly, and he steps closer. “I get it,” he says quietly. “And I know this whole ‘not changing the future’ thing is supposed to be important. But I’m telling you now, if you ever need to tell me something, I’ll listen. No questions, no judgment.”

You nod, managing a weak smile. “Thanks, Tony. That… that means a lot.”

He hesitates, then places a hand on your shoulder, a rare moment of gentleness that sends warmth through you. “Look, I don’t know who I am in the future, but here, now, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to keep us alive.” He drops his hand, giving you a small smirk. “That includes you, time traveler.”

You smile back, heart pounding. “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe too, Tony. Even if I can’t change things.”

The Night Before the Battle

As the days pass, tension begins to settle over the team. The warnings they’ve received from SHIELD, the unusual activity around the Tesseract—all of it points to something big on the horizon. You can feel the weight of the coming battle pressing down on you like a storm cloud, and while the others prepare, you feel like a ghost, wandering the Tower’s halls, struggling with the knowledge you carry.

That night, Tony finds you on the rooftop, staring out over the New York skyline. The city lights twinkle beneath the stars, oblivious to the danger that’s soon to come. Tony approaches quietly, his presence grounding.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he says, his tone light but his eyes serious. “You know, you spend a lot of time up here, brooding.”

You smile weakly. “It’s hard not to when… I know what’s coming.”

He leans against the railing beside you, crossing his arms. “I don’t blame you. But I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says, his voice softening. “Even though you can’t say anything, you’ve helped us. You’ve helped me. Just knowing you’re here… it gives me this weird feeling that we’re gonna make it through this.”

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I wish I could do more. But… knowing you’re here, Tony—it helps me too. You’ve always found a way to keep everyone together, to find solutions, even when things seemed hopeless.”

He looks at you, surprise flickering across his face, followed by something softer. “You really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you reply, voice steady. “More than you know.”

For a moment, the two of you stand there in silence, the distant hum of the city below filling the night air. Then, Tony turns to face you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, if this is our last night before everything goes sideways, I say we make it count.” He offers his hand. “Come on. Let’s go raid the stash of champagne in my suite. I may be a genius, but I’m also a pretty decent bartender.”

You laugh, taking his hand as he leads you inside. Together, you head up to his penthouse, and soon, you’re seated on his plush couch, sipping champagne and trading stories. He talks about his early years at Stark Industries, the crazy nights and the high-stakes projects, and you share some of the most lighthearted moments you’ve had with the team in the future—moments that won’t give anything away but capture the heart of what the Avengers are.

“Sounds like we’re not half-bad in the future,” Tony says, grinning as he refills your glass.

“You’re more than not half-bad,” you reply, laughing. “You’re legends.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his drink. “You know, I never thought I’d have a legacy. Not really. I figured I’d make a bunch of tech, sell it off, and that’d be it. But hearing you talk about the future… it’s weird, but for the first time, I kind of want to be there to see it.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re going to do incredible things, Tony. You have no idea how much you’ll mean to all of us.”

He meets your gaze, his expression softening, and for a moment, there’s a quiet intensity between you—a feeling of connection that goes beyond time, beyond the secrets you’re forced to keep. You don’t have to tell him everything to let him know how much he matters, not just to the future, but to you.

“Guess I’ll have to stick around then,” he says, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. “For you, and for… whoever I become.”

You smile, heart pounding, and you squeeze his arm gently. “I’m glad.”

In the quiet that follows, he reaches over, clinking his glass against yours. “To the future,” he says softly, his voice filled with a determination that’s almost heartbreaking.

You raise your glass, fighting the emotions rising in your chest. “To the future.”

The morning dawns heavy, and as the team gathers, the tension is palpable. You stand on the sidelines, watching each of them prepare, the reality of what’s about to happen pressing down on you. Tony catches your eye before he puts on the suit, his gaze steady and reassuring. He doesn’t have to say anything—you already know.

“See you on the other side,” he says, voice muffled by the suit’s mask as he flashes you a confident grin.

You watch him go, your heart aching with a strange mix of pride and fear. There’s no guarantee that things will unfold exactly as you remember, but for now, you have faith. The Avengers are ready. And so are you.

The dust of the battle hasn’t even settled, but after capturing Loki, the team allows themselves a small moment of relief. As the Avengers regroup, Thor stands guard over Loki with a mixture of grim satisfaction and frustration, while Natasha and Clint exchange relieved nods. Steve is already eyeing the damaged buildings, making plans for containment and crowd control.

Tony, however, is still pacing, his gaze flicking to the holographic interface in front of him. He watches JARVIS’s live feed, examining damage reports, crowd dispersal, and tracking the few remaining Chitauri soldiers scattered through the city.

That’s when JARVIS’s calm voice cuts through. “Sir, I must alert you that Y/N’s vitals are highly irregular. Her heart rate and breathing pattern suggest she may be experiencing a panic attack.”

Tony’s brow furrows, worry creeping onto his face. “Where is she?”

“She was last located on the floor directly below you, but the security cameras on that floor are currently offline due to structural damage. I’m unable to locate her visually.”

A pang of alarm runs through Tony, and it catches the attention of the rest of the team. Natasha and Steve share a concerned look, Clint straightens, and even Thor’s expression shifts from watchful to worried.

“A panic attack?” Clint asks, confused. “I thought panic attacks were Tony’s thing.”

“Hey!” Tony snaps, but it lacks his usual edge. There’s a flicker of anxiety in his expression, and he’s already reaching for his comm. “Y/N? Can you hear me? If you’re there, talk to me.”

Silence.

He feels a sinking dread building in his stomach, and he exchanges a glance with Steve, who nods, immediately stepping forward. “Tony, do you want backup?” Steve asks.

Tony shakes his head. “No, I’ll find her. Just… keep Loki locked down, all right? We don’t want him getting any ideas while we’re distracted.”

With that, Tony heads down a damaged stairwell, calling JARVIS’s name and reactivating every broken camera he can find. After what feels like an agonizingly long few seconds, he finally picks up a faint, distorted signal from one of the lower floors.

And then he hears it—a deep, mechanical thud that echoes through the empty floor below. He rushes down the last few steps and stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the corridor.

At the far end of the hall, there’s Y/N… only she’s barely recognizable. She’s suited up in what looks like Tony’s Iron Man armor, or rather, parts of the armor—a strange, improvised mix of boots, a chest plate, gauntlets, and a helmet. Her arms and legs are half-exposed in her torn battle gear, and in one hand, she’s gripping a metal baseball bat, the metal shining under the harsh emergency lights.

Tony takes a stunned step forward as Y/N raises the bat with all her might, swinging it into a remaining Chitauri soldier, sending it flying back with a satisfying crash. The alien hits the wall hard, but she doesn’t stop. There’s a ferocity in her movements that he’s never seen before—raw, desperate, and relentless. She stumbles forward, chest heaving, breath heavy and erratic over the helmet’s comm system as she swings again and again, knocking down every remaining Chitauri that crosses her path.

The rest of the team arrives behind Tony, and they all freeze at the sight. Steve’s eyes widen, Clint’s mouth drops open, and Natasha raises an eyebrow, looking impressed.

“Is she… is she wearing your suit?” Steve finally asks, his tone equal parts confusion and awe.

Tony doesn’t answer, too busy staring. She’s moving erratically, swaying slightly, her movements sharper and more frantic than he’s ever seen from her. There’s no precision, no strategy—just sheer, brutal determination as she takes down the last of the Chitauri.

And then, as the dust settles, her chest heaves as she drops the bat to the ground with a clang, her breathing audible even through the helmet. Tony steps forward slowly, cautious, not wanting to startle her.

“Y/N,” he calls softly, “you okay in there?”

For a moment, she doesn’t respond. The helmet dips, as if she’s looking down at herself in disbelief. When she finally speaks, her voice crackles through the helmet, shaky and breathless.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “You wanna… you wanna take that thing off?”

The silence stretches, and then, with a trembling hand, she reaches up, disengaging the helmet. It slides off, revealing her face, pale and streaked with dirt and sweat. Her eyes are wide, glassy with fear, and there’s a tremor in her hand that she can’t quite control.

“I—I couldn’t find any of you,” she whispers, her voice catching. “And I just… I saw them down here, and I couldn’t—”

Tony steps closer, his expression softening. “Hey, hey. You did good. You took them out. You’re safe, okay?”

Her breaths come fast and shallow, and he realizes she’s still in the grip of panic, her body trembling in the remnants of adrenaline and fear. He reaches out, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “Y/N, you’re okay now. Just breathe with me, all right?”

She nods, her breaths starting to slow, her eyes flicking up to meet his. There’s a vulnerability there, a rawness that cuts right through him. She looks like she’s holding back a flood of emotion, and his heart tightens.

One by one, the others approach, keeping a respectful distance but offering her reassuring nods. Steve steps forward, placing a steady hand on her other shoulder, his gaze warm and reassuring.

“We’re here,” he says, his voice steady. “You didn’t have to do this alone.”

The reassurance seems to break something inside her, and she lets out a shaky laugh, wiping at her face. “Guess I got a little carried away, huh?” she murmurs, trying to steady herself.

Tony raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Just a little. Though I gotta say, you wear that suit well. Never thought I’d see you flying down here with a bat and half my armor.”

Her cheeks flush, and she lets out a self-conscious chuckle. “I just grabbed whatever was closest. I couldn’t… I didn’t want any of you to get hurt. I had to help somehow.”

Clint, watching with a mix of amazement and amusement, crosses his arms, grinning. “If I’d known you had this side in you, I’d have handed you a bat weeks ago.”

Natasha steps up beside Clint, nodding approvingly. “It takes guts to throw yourself into a fight like that. Especially alone.”

Y/N looks at each of them, her expression a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. She shakes her head, glancing back at Tony. “Guess I still have a few things to learn about… not panicking under pressure.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a gentleness in his eyes as he meets her gaze. “Trust me,” he says, “you’re not the only one who freaks out when things get intense. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re not alone here. And next time? You don’t have to handle it by yourself. Got it?”

She nods, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Got it.”

As the team disperses, Tony stays with her a moment longer, studying her carefully. “You know,” he says quietly, his tone softer than usual, “I can upgrade that baseball bat if you’re thinking of making this a regular thing.”

She laughs, a real, genuine laugh this time. “I’ll keep that in mind. But maybe I’ll leave the suits to you next time.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, grinning. He pauses, his expression turning thoughtful. “Hey… don’t feel bad about what happened, okay? You stepped up. You saved us a lot of trouble back there.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation, but she nods, a shy smile appearing. “Thanks, Tony. For… everything.”

He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze, his gaze soft. “Anytime. Now let’s get you out of that armor before you short-circuit it.”

With a grateful smile, she follows him, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. For the first time since arriving in this unfamiliar past, she feels a sense of belonging, knowing that these people—the Avengers, her friends—will always have her back, just as she has theirs.

Unbeknownst to you, or to the Avengers around you, just a few blocks away, a much older Tony Stark is crouched in the shadows with Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner, their eyes fixed on the commotion unfolding at Stark Tower. They’ve come to 2012 to retrieve the Tesseract—an essential part of their mission to save the future. Their objective is clear: get in, grab the Tesseract, and get out without causing any disruptions. But when Tony’s gaze catches sight of the familiar figure in half of his old suit, wielding a bat and going after stray Chitauri with a fierce determination, he freezes, completely taken off guard.

Steve glances at him. “What’s wrong, Stark?”

Tony’s eyes are glued to you, his expression softening as he watches you clobber a Chitauri, then brace yourself as the helmet’s targeting HUD helps you line up your next swing. “I… didn’t expect this,” he murmurs, voice filled with awe and something closer to pride than Steve has ever heard from him.

Bruce follows Tony’s gaze and frowns in confusion. “Wait—is that… Y/N? But that can’t be right. She wouldn’t be here. This isn’t even her timeline.”

“Oh, it’s her,” Tony whispers, his voice choked with both joy and heartbreak. He can’t help but let a small grin sneak onto his face, one that shows just how much he cares for you and just how proud he is. “That’s my little girl.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he watches Tony’s face, lit up with admiration and bittersweet nostalgia. “Tony, you know the rules. We can’t interfere.”

“I know,” Tony says, the reality settling over him like a lead weight. “But look at her.” He nods toward you, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “She’s got guts. Always has. I knew she’d be a fighter.”

Steve watches you for a moment, then gives Tony a small, supportive nod. “She’s in good hands. You saw her out there—she’s fighting with the team, and you know this version of you will keep an eye on her.”

“I know,” Tony murmurs, his eyes never leaving you. For a moment, he loses himself in the scene—watching you alongside his younger self, surrounded by the team, all of you laughing and joking after the battle. He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. It’s like looking through a window into a different time, one where he could just stand there and watch over you, make sure you were safe.

The younger Tony steps forward in the armor, calling out a comment that makes you laugh, a real, bright laugh that reaches even the ears of the time-traveling Tony hidden in the shadows. He can see how his younger self leans forward, his eyes full of quiet care as he reassures you, and Tony’s heart swells with pride and longing.

“She’s tougher than I realized,” Bruce says with a small, approving smile, giving Tony a reassuring nudge. “She’ll be all right, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, she will,” Tony says, nodding to himself, though there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays the mix of joy and sorrow swirling inside him. He may not be able to approach you now, to tell you how proud he is, but he can watch you from the shadows just this once, a silent guardian, letting himself soak in the sight of you alive and well, even if it’s in a past that isn’t his.

He clears his throat, steeling himself, reminding himself of the mission. “All right, guys. Let’s get the Tesseract and get out of here,” he says, but his voice is softer, less biting than usual. “I’ll… I’ll be back soon, anyway. To the right timeline.”

As he and the others move to leave, Tony sneaks one last look over his shoulder. You’re taking a deep breath, looking around at your team with a smile that’s just a little shy, a little amazed, as if you’re still surprised that you belong here. His heart aches with pride, and his voice is barely a whisper as he says, “That’s my girl. Stay safe.”

With that, he turns and follows Steve and Bruce, his heart a little heavier but his soul a little lighter, knowing that, even if he can’t protect you directly, he’s left you in good hands: his own hands, in a way. It’s enough, for now.

I don't know if I'm really satisfied with this...I just hope that whoever requested it likes it!

79 notes · View notes

villainsimpqueen · 19 days ago

Text

A Sorrowful Little Christmas

Hazbin Hotel Adam x Wife Reader

Tw: infidelity, Emotional neglect, Grief, Divorce, Regret and self loathing, Denial, Falling lit of love, Realizing Regrets.

this is a sad Christmas one-shot fic for those who like seasonal angst.

youtube

Christmas was a special time in Heaven, Where the high angels would have the purest snow coat the cloudy city high in the sky.

True sweethearts and lovers would walk down the glowing city with hands entangled and wispy air leaving their lips as they laughed.

Cheers as bright as the glimmering candles and Lights, Smells of cinnamon and Hot Cocoa filling the air.

Christmas was a special time for many and it was the one time you could live happily in a lie.

At least it was.

You moved among the busy city alone, your “Lover” nowhere near you as you traversed the streets watching the other winners enjoy their holidays.

A fairy breath leaves your lips and you continue into stores buying and spending away heaven bucks to pay for the yearly event you had hosted for so many years after more winners had come into heaven.

A huge Christmas Ball under Adam and Your name.

It was the one thing you truly went all out for, huge event you took so much pride and joy doing even as your marriage had shifted from a loving one to a more political appearances one, you had always thought Adam had Appreciated the efforts you want to make the Christmas ball in his name something that gave the winners excitement and talk about.

Everyone in Heaven knew that the ball outshone everything except the morning Tradition parade, Where of everyone's Christmas traditions would be displayed in grand festival floats, balloons everything to bring everyone together, And the Party carried on to the grand First Man and Wife's Christmas ball.

Everyone was out and about for gifts to loved ones and outfits for the grand event.

And seeing all the winners shop with excitement you once possessed in buying for the ball made your heart weigh so much more heavier as your mind drifted to what Occurred with your husband merely a few days before the Eve of Christmas.

You had announced the Ball's theme to him Excitedly in the morning over a big breakfast you had gotten up early to make.

Excitement filling you as you went on and on about your ball plans and what outfits you had planned for the both of you to match as well as the song you both would sing during your first dance.

Christmas time had always been the few weeks Adam had promised he would be home more often and involved.

Yet as you asked for his input, always waiting for it, he scoffed at you instead, rubbing his fingers into his dark circles, making your once happy smile fall, feeling the air shift.

“Ada-”

“Why do you keep fucking volunteering me for this stupid fucking shit y/n?!” He seethed, making you shrink back from your husband.

He once was always so excited to aid in the ball….

But that was so many centuries ago.

“I-” You had sputtered not prepared for his outburst.

“I want a divorce.”

The very words that seeped from him make your heart drop.

“What?” You had whispered in mere disbelief. Sure you both hadn't been so very romantic all these past few hundred or so years. But it wasn't like there was a lack of you trying.

Adam was far too busy with his responsibilities of protecting heaven by being the yearly exorcist general, and also being one of the faces to bring hope to the winners with all his performances.

You had thought you were a good wife aiding him despite his lack of time for you, by making sure he always had breakfast, lunch and a hot dinner.

You kept your house clean, you always took care of gifts to those important. You took care of any events making sure everything was perfect so that your husband can shine like the hope of humanity he was made for,

you had thought the distance between each other was simply a test of your patience and love until things would work out.

Perhaps you were just blind.

No.

You only allowed yourself to be blind.

Because you were made for him, you were made to be absolutely perfect for him. Stardust is taken from the brightest star of the night to be his Heavenly devine wife.

It was your entire life.

“I left the papers on your bed. Sign them so this can be over. I'll have a home for you after the Ball so you can focus on moving out afterwards.” Adam had been speaking the whole time as you felt your entire being being crushed and ripped apart.

“You can keep the ring if you want.”

You were walking down the streets feeling numbness of the cold creeping into you from the band of your ring as you stared at it.

Tears burned in your eyes as you headed back to a surely empty house.

He would not be there, You knew it well, out with his Exorcists, or for all you knew, with someone else.

Did you even know your husband anymore? You thought back to the early days of your marriage where you had to assure him that you loved him, assure him you would never be the one to leave.

Now here the bastard was, being the one to leave you after everything you had been through with him.

Grief and all its levels had plagued you.

Shock from the harshness of his words, as you spent a full day trying to process them sitting at the same spot at the dining room table for so many hours.

Then slowly Denial filled you as you went on like nothing happened the next day, getting up making breakfast, watching as he joined the table merely out of habit and ate silently, as you watched him, Not even eating your own plate of food.

Anger had consumed you like fire after he left without so much as a thank you, leaving you to clean everything up, it built and burned as you screamed and threw the platers and everything across the room storming around and finding other breakables to slam and smash.

It wasn't like it had mattered, it all would rematerialize as perfect as can be.

Then the Bargaining more like begging came as you sobbed and pleaded that god would put some sense into his son, to not punish you even further for his cruelty, and made Adam a warm lunch leaving to his office to give it to him in hopes that you both could share a meal even if your appetite was gone.

The noises you heard coming from his closed office door, that you had once turned a cheek away from, broke the damn behind your eyes as you turned away throwing away the meal and went back home and suffered in your own bed.

Depression consumed you, and it wasn't until the third day before the grand ball you finally left your room. A mere short shower to wash away the stain of tears and a random grab of baggy clothing had you out and about shopping.

Which is where it brings you to now.

Your once planned theme is gone as you spitefully planned a new one and bought everything for it, hired a team to set it up at the grand city hall and gala.

You were going to show that man and everyone you were and always more than a wife.

You were going to make this ball so pardon your vanity goddamn good, Adam would fail at ever recreating such splendor after the divorce.

Make it even harder for whoever the Bitch he was sleeping with behind your back to ever have a face of her own.

You inhaled sharply guilt filling you and you shook your head.

You were not blaming her.

You didn't have it to go down that road.

Adam was unfaithful, Adam had broken vows.

Not the other woman.

And so You pitied her instead and there was no reason to fight after all, besides once you gave Adam back the damn ring you stared at, You wouldn't even need another breath.

Turning your head to stare up at the sky finding the star that was used to breathe your life, you found peace.

so it was why when you got home and grabbed your phone you decided you would grant him his wishes.

What color is your dress for this ball?: You.

You had texted, you had hardly ever texted before and when you did it was to get Adam to pick up the phone, When you willingly stayed blind.

Perhaps the change of topic had captured her attention.

Lute:?????

Lute: I haven't picked a dress out yet.

Her message had made you chuckle, bitterness as you recall each event since shortly after Lutes recruitment into Adams Army she always conveniently had a dress that accented whatever colors You and Adam wore, a poor attempt to match Adam.

You suspected he always told her as soon as you showed him The matching outfits you picked out.

Adam will be wearing gray and gold.: You

You ignored the series of calls and texts that Came from Adam. All accusing you for trying to start shit and demanding you to stop trying to make a messy Divorce.

You ignored them, not having the energy to give him a spec of your time.

You put everything into focus of the ball, your dress, A grand event for those to celebrate their favorite holiday, and yet secretly a spectacular goodbye to your own life.

The day of the ball was everything.

The morning you spent it alone eating on a muffin as you had a moving crew come in and take out all your belongings to a center that will donate all your things to new arriving winners to get settled into their homes.

A welcoming gift from you and a way where it was spread all over heaven with no way to find it all.

Your clothes, your hobbies, your signature pieces, your furniture. Leaving your room bare.

You even went into Adam's room, somewhere you haven't been inside of for a while and grabbed anything that was yours from there as well, taking pictures of you and him and cutting yourself from them leaving only him to remain as you burned them.

Why burden him to do it himself? So you left him mercy by erasing everything he had of you.

You then made sure all the catering, invites and entertainment was on schedule before going to grab you and Adams outfits.

You scoffed as you placed Adams all neatly on his bed and a note simply telling him to meet you at the ball to put on the last show of your so-called marriage.

You left to head to a spa to treat yourself hugely one last grand time.

Pampering yourself and paying with Adams money. Afterall You were still a wife.

The evening came and you were perfection as you arrived at the ball, leaving the carriage you had for yourself and exiting it to see Adam who had to be force to wait for you turn annoyance moving on his face before you watched as his eyes paused on you, His face shifting to an emotion you did not care to really focus on as you moved gracefully to him and taking his arm.

It was a moment before you heard him grunt and the both of you started walking up to the entrance where winners excitedly screamed and cheered. You smiled at them brightly waving and blowing kisses, as you always had while you were nothing but a trophy on Adams Arm.

You felt him moving waving to the winners, making hand gestures to rock as you both continued up to the ball's doors.

“We dont match.” Adams' voice greeted your ears once you both were further away from the winners waiting for when they were allowed to enter.

it's true, You did not match him like before.

Tonight Adam wore a lovely Gray suit and pants accented by his gold accents to match his blessed wings and eyes. The gray being darker than his normal to go color and you couldn't help but to see how much the color showed how lifeless he was, At once point Adam used to Glow.

Being One of Heaven's brightest saints.

But now the one who was glowing, Was you.

You wore a fitted but flowy white dress that shimmered, the lower the dress went is where colors popped out, stars, dances at the bottom of your dress skirts.

Your hair styled beautiful with star adornments clipped into place and your Makeup soft and shimmery enhancing your natural beauty.

You ignored how Adams eyes swept over you, not caring for the emotion that tried forming in them.

Forming too far too late.

You turned your head to look away from him, faking a smile for the cameras that were snapping behind you, afterall the entire event was for heaven not yourselves, not anymore.

“Does it even matter?” You simply stated pulling away from him and separating entirely

from him, gracefully moving around the Ball to talk to attendees as a generous hostess you always were, Not at all seeing how Adam had froze in place and watched you move.

He had not expected that, not from you. His brows furrowed as he continued into the Ball, Attendees pouring in and he made his way to the Ball's bar getting a drink of red wine to drink.

It wasn't long until a smaller hand brushed against his forearm that made him turn taking in the eyes of Lute, moving as he took in the light gray and silver hemmed dress she wore, that contained soft golden sparkles over it, in a way to complement his own suit.

False egotistical confidence boomed through him as his lips pulled to a smirk seeing her.

“Shit babes you look hot as fuck.” He complimented her sweetly, liking how warm Lute's face always got. Yet she would clear her throat acting professional out in public settings, another thing he liked despite how much he didn't.

“You look quite handsome yourself, sir.” Lute spoke bluntly as she turned leaning on the bar with him as her eyes swept over the crowds landing on you. Adams wasn't too far behind, a noise leaving him for a moment as he went to sip his red wine.

His Lieutenant was silent for a moment.

Lute stared at you as you practically floated across the Ball floor, even across the room she could practically hear your laughter, twinkling like stars.

You were perfect, Always were since the first time you had excitedly welcomed her into you and Adams home, And a few other Exorcists for dinner. To give them a sense of family.

You always glowed brighter than the night sky's brightest star and you always seemed so perfect beside Adam.

Until these last few hundred years.

Seeing you brought a sense of rapid shame to her, as it was a bizarre almost unholy thought to even think that you would be an Ex-wife.

It was her and Adams fault to damn you with such a title.

Making her stomach clench uncomfortably, She had been told to enjoy all that Heaven offered, Adam had been what she so selfishly wanted, And in turn she selfishly took what never should have been obtainable.

Same with Adam, Breaking his vows, his own core morals, in selfish greed and temptation. Pulling away from the woman he spent so long with, far longer than the two had left him.

causing the same pain and betrayal he had felt towards you.

Yet you handled the upcoming divorce with dignity. Lute could barely tell you knew of it at all with how your smile was shining through the crowd as you mingled with the crowds and even the high angels. Not correcting their praises of Adam and you for this year's ball, still even allowing him to have credit when he worked on absolutely nothing.

You were more of a woman than she would ever be.

Adam made a noise which captured Lute's attention, her focus now widening away from you as you were speaking with a few male winners, Young, bashful, and so eager to have your attention.

You could have them. Easily.

And it seems that thought made through the shallow surface of Adams inflated ego as his fingers tightened around the wine glasses stem as he watched you from a distance. Watch how you humbly turned the men down, keeping the illusion that you were happily married and faithful to your ‘ loving husband’.

Saving face merely on reputations.

And seeing that made him falter, knowing had it been him in your place he would have no such thing. He would have entertained them more out of spite, causing whispers of rumors of their marriage's troubled paradise that was crumbling apart. Hell, Hed foolishly announced the upcoming Divorce loudly and all that came with it.

But you didn't do any of that, Because you were not of him, you were better, Crafted better from only the best of stardust. Angelic mistakes in the past had been considered in making your form, they sewed every part of you, sculpted it in you, your perfection, made you the perfect wife for him to grow and adapt and love him.

And he still selfishly wanted more and did not recognize that it was his fault you never got to grow into that something more.

Soon it came to the first dance of the night, everyone graciously moving away from the dance floor as you and Adam made way to it.

One last dance.

One last song.

Solidified strongly in one's mind,

yet so utterly hazed by the thing in anothers.

You started singing, your devine voice carrying over the sympathy, he would later join as he took your hand bringing you closer to him to lead you in the dance.

“Don't cry, snowman, not in front of me

Who'll catch your tears if you can't catch me, darling?

If you can't catch me, darling”

You refused to see him, closing your eyes the moment Adam held you, your mind changing the one who guided you, not this time Adam, but another taking place in front of you.

The one who was so nervous to meet you that he trembled. The one you shared that Nervousness and shyly greeted.

The one who with trembling fingers shyly taking your hand and whispering a soft

“Is this okay?”

“Don't cry, snowman, don't leave me this way

A puddle of water can't hold me close, baby

Can't hold me close, baby”

The one who eagerly pulled you around heaven so that you both could discover its paradise together, As wife and husband.

Whose eyes shined brightly at you with love and arrogance as he taught you things.

The one who loved holding you close if the winds caught a chill in the breeze.

The one who was also so eager to sing with you as it was one of his passions and he was so delighted that you shared it with him.

“I want you to know that I'm never leaving

'Cause I'm Mrs. Snow, 'til death we'll be freezing

Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons

So come on, let's go”

The one who celebrates every holiday with you, always going fully out even if heaven was just starting and the first winners had made it across the pearly gates.

The one who insisted on building a home from.his own two hands for you, Because a man was to provide for his divine wife.

Before the fame, Before the spoiling that came from eternal paradise.

“Let's go below zero and hide from the sun

I love you forever where we'll have some fun

Yes, let's hit the North Pole and live happily

Please, don't cry no tears now, it's Christmas, baby”

The one who would play in the perfect pure white snow with you until you both collapsed in it with joy, laughter and love staring at each other as wispy puffs of air leaving both of your burning cheeks, the cold never truly setting in as if it was heaven and discomfort was not a threat.

Even still, your loving and devoted Adam would outstretched one of his large golden wings to cover you warmly, pulling you closer with an arm over your hip resting just below your own wings as you had giggled into his chest hiding your chilled nose into it as he pressed warm kisses on the top of your head.

Where had he gone?

Where did that Adam go?

Your Adam?

You fluttered your eyes open to look at the stranger of a man you danced with, seeing how his eyes were everywhere except for you.

Acceptance came.

It came so quickly in that moment as you stared at the husk of someone you used to know and love well.

And the pain in your heart eased as the realization and acceptance blossomed and glowed in it.

Your beloved truly died long long ago, leaving you behind a shallow and cold husk in his place, his true shine glimmering in the stars, the ones you found yourself staring at so much the past few days of this Hell, twinkling down at you in encouraging peace.

You would leave the husk, and join your true love's soul back in the starry night, where your borrowed dust may return and gleam.

And as you stared at the man in front of you, who seemed distant even with being so close, You smiled at him patiently.

“My snowman and me

My snowman and me

Baby”

His dull eyes finding yours, A brow lifting in confusion as he took in that smile, Something in him twisting at how warm it was towards him. Crawling up and down his spine slowly, and it caused him to feel a sense of unease in the moment he did not understand.

“Don't cry, snowman, don't you fear the sun

Who'll carry me without legs to run, honey?

Without legs to run, honey”

He sung along with you, his eyes taking in how you shimmered and glow under the changing lights, how unlike his your eyes glowed so brightly, even more now than they had in years, how sweet you looked in his grasps as you both made rounds on the dance floor, singing as if your souls were still entertained.

And it made him feel uncertainty, regret.

What was he doing?

“Don't cry, snowman, don't you shed a tear

Who'll hear my secrets if you don't have ears, baby?

If you don't have ears, baby”

Your voice grew with life as you both continued to sing it alone was practically sparkling in his ears, most soothing and heavenly and yet as if you were trying to comfort him.

Comfort him? out of all people?

He didn't understand but his eyes went dewy soft when staring at you, his heart hammering in his chest as he sung along with you,

He sang the normal verses of the song but this time you did not harmonize with him, it threw him off, and the words made his chest tighten.

“Even though I'm leaving, I'm Mrs. Snow

In my death, you'll be freezing, forever you'll know

Yeah, you were my home, my warmth in all seasons

But now I'm letting go, for your own secret reasons

So come on Let me go”

You sang and twirled away from him. It made a shuddering breath if air leave him as he watched the hued lights move across your body, your dress glimmering like a trillion galaxies, their shimmers moving across your skin in the light. He had not been paying attention to your hands, too captured from the beauty you've always had been.

yet you returned to him letting him catch you and pull you so closely, and now he didn't want to let you slip away again.

A grimace moving over his features as he took in your sweet and warm face smiling at him, your hands meeting his and something warm but going cold pushed into the palm of his hand, his mind too lazy to even recognize its shape.

“So let me go below zero and hide from your sun

I’ll love you forever, though this has been fun”

His fingers rubbed against your own and a sense of utter despair filled him as he finally recognized what was missing, His dull eyes immediately snapping to your hand, its small perfect outline now missing your ring.

His heart dropping and his eyes stung at the freezing cold revolution started to consume him yet you finger squeezed his making his eyes quickly snap to your face, regret growing in them as he held your hand so tightly, as if he could pull you close and keep you and the past would instantly change and the gutted feeling that made him so suddenly nauseous and riddled with guilt would leave and that the smile on your face wasn't different from the soft look in your eyes.

Accepting the end of his marriage.

“Yes, let me transcend to the North Star, you'll be free

Please, don’t cry tears now, it’s Christmas, baby”

And for the last time, for a matter of a few seconds you harmonized.

“My snowman and me

My snowman and me

Baby”

The music starting to come to a end and while his fingers trembled and clenched around yours, you had pulled away from him, and felt your hand until the very last second as you turned from him and moved to join the crowd leaving him on the dance floor as the crowds of winners and angels cheered and clapped at the wonderful performance, oblivious to what had transpired between the two so called lovers.

Adams eyes moved to his shaking palm, in the middle of it freezing his skin, was your lovely silver and golden ring.

And the sight of it brought back everything, you were everything to him.

A shattering breath leaving him before his panicked eyes snapped to the crowd trying to find the glowing woman he spent so long of his eternal paradise with, not seeing her as he tried moving through the crowd of winners who sang their empty praises.

He didn't want the divorce anymore.

He can still fix it, He didnt fuck this one last good thing up, He didn't, he couldn't have-

You had walked away, heading out of the ball, leaving so that you could return home, not the overly empty penthouse you tried to make a home, no, that was never home and you pushed aside that feeling in order to make the stranger you were now free from happy.

Your home was far away from it, away from the city all together, on beautiful hills that had meadows of endless wildflowers, where the stars and moon shone so brightly and the view gave a perfect picture of your husbands once banished home.

He had always wanted to be able to see it, so that he could see the children he once had even if they were no longer his.

The place you both were once so full of love and happiness, built by the two of your own hands.

You moved to it, entering the small house that once had such a Large promise and ran your hands over its surfaces as you took in all the memories that you both had forgotten a sadden smile on your lips as you entered its main room now covered everywhere in perfectly wrapped presents.

Each had a card hand written softly and a year far ahead of the current one now.

You only planned so many out, if He should ever find them.

Eternity was so long and you could only plan gifts for so much of it.

You let out a final sigh before leaving the house and moved out to the meadow your eyes on the sky as your wings outstretched, landing on the brightest star and the second one that twinkled so much as if it was begging you to join it, begging you to return to your true beloved.

A smile leaves you and you take flight heading towards them.

“I'm coming home, Adam.” You whispered as you felt the mold that contained you began to melt away.

Adam had slammed into the docking perch of the penthouse, his breathing panicked and gasped as he slammed the doors open harshly as he stumbled inside his stinging eyes widely looking around, looking for you.

“Y-y/n?” His voice echoed over the empty space making his heart fill with dread as he moved through the dark penthouse frantically clapping his hands to turn on the lights as he headed towards your room.

Long while ago he demanded separate rooms, using the excuse that he comes home late and he didn't want to wake you trying to get ready for bed. You had so sweetly agreed even if he saw your eyes showed pain.

How much pain did he put into your sweet eyes? How much had he hurt you? You? His devoted perfect Wife because of his selfishness?

He opened your door rapidly, not even knocking to ask for permission slamming open your bedroom door and stumbling in with rapid breaths.

His blood ran cold and heart stopped entirely as his wide eyes fell onto an empty bedroom.

He moved to the closet, nothing, panic pushing through him in waves as he gasped for air moving throughout the penthouse for anything, anything you may come back inside for, finding nothing. He slammed into his own room and rummaged through it, everything of you was gone.

He felt despair as he fumbled for his phone calling and texting you, the need to find you plaguing him as the ring that was one around your delicate finger weighed like bricks in his chest suit pocket.

Voice mail box full of him pleading for you to call him, Admitted he fucked up, he regretted his words, how he didnt want to go through the divorce, that he was sorry, how he would do anything to repent and fix your marriage. To be a better Man, A better Husband.

How he would even resign from being the Exorcists General if you could just give me one more chance.

Yet the phone would cut him off in his long babbles of pleas, his Hysterics growing to a full swing panic attack as he fell and cradled himself onto the floor begging, pleading, praying you would come back.

“Please, I love you I need you Oh god, Don't tell me i ruined the one beautiful thing that i got.” He sobbed into the phone that simply rang out.

“This person's voicemail box is full, sorry try calling again later.”

It was soon hours later the sun would rise being Christmas Day. Adam had managed to get up from the floor walking to the main room staring blankly at the non decorated house.

It would've been filled with tinsel and garland, all sorts of little sweet decorations pinned and placed.

This whole house would smell of baked goods and on the kitchen bar counter there would be a large gingerbread house with assorted baked cookies freshly made.

You would be greeting him warmly, the dining room filled with food to feast upon, the fruits of all your labor for him to enjoy.

Now the house was dark, clean, and cold.

Like he had been, and for once the cold bit at him.

He moved drone-like to the dining room table sitting in his seat staring at the doorway, his eyes stinging.

You would, should, would be entering warmly with glasses in your hand, warmed spiced cider freshly made for you both to enjoy as you excitedly told him the Christmas plans.

It was something he knew like the palm of his hands.

Breakfast with each other,

gift opening one present each,

you would then prepare the evening's dinner and He would send for all the girls to come over, which you would baby them and spoil them with seats.

Music booming and then gift giving, another sort of your labor, You took care of everything, always finding the perfect gifts for the girls, even him which he always took for granted, always treasuring the gifts given to his closest friend and Poorly Hidden Mistress the most.

Then there would be Christmas movies with snacks and hot cocoa. You would be curled into his side nuzzling your head into his chest while he wrapped his arm around you out of obligation rather than love as his eyes would roam across the room to another.

He really wasn't worth a single shit.

He didn't deserve you.

Hell he didn't even deserve to be where he was.

He had no right to claim he was better than the very ones he slaughtered yearly.

He was worse than them.

Adam buried his face into his hands, rubbing them as tears dripped from his eyes until his gaze fell on a piece of paper with a key taped to it.

He knew the key, similar to one forgotten on his keyring and it was what brought him back to this cabin built by him in the early years of his heavenly marriage.

He walked in, his hopes of finding you crushed and his heart shattered as the entire place was decked to the halls for the day's celebrations.

His eyes fell on all the decorations, and followed them to the main room where he fell to his knees at the sight of all the perfectly wrapped gifts.

“Fuck…fuck…fuck” He whispered as he moved to each one reading cards each one breaking him more than ever.

Dear Adam,

I hope you found happiness this year, Hopefully this will Aid you

Wishing you Well y/n

To Adam,

I saw this scarf and remembered how you used to keep me warm with your wings. I hope it keeps you warm when your wings can't.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

This once was our favorite book, the one we never finished because you're too busy dreaming up our own stories. Maybe one day at least one of us will be able to finish it.

I hope it ends well.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

A watch. To remind you that time keeps moving forward, even when it feels like it shouldn’t. Wear it maybe?

From, Y/N

To Adam,

That cologne you love. I can still remember how it lingered on my clothes after you held me. Maybe it'll comfort those close to you when you wear it.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

A photo album of us. Because I was always afraid I’d forget the way you smiled, but now I realize you might need these more than I ever did.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

A pair of gloves. You always hated how mine never matched yours. Maybe now they’ll fit better with your life.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

Inside is everything I never said but should have. If you read it, you’ll understand who I was in the years our love started to dull. Or at least, I hope you will.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

A key. It doesn’t open anything anymore, but maybe it’ll remind you that some doors are meant to stay closed.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

A candle. For all the nights you said I lit up your world. I hope this will happen when I no longer can.

From, Y/N

To Adam,

This is the last gift. I left it empty. Fill it with whatever helps you heal. That’s all I want for you now. Change into the good person I always believe you to be.

From, Y/N

‘Change into the good person I always believe you to be’

It led him stumbling through the city with that christmas gifts tag, all the way to the council after he sent an urgent request to the damned.

He went down, the elevator running smooth even if it had been left unused. When the doors opened his eyes met with Yellow red of concern and White eyes of suspicion.

“Adam??” The princess of the dam questioned wondering why he summoned for a meeting so early in the morning on such a day. Now even more so to why the Asshole she met months and again at the last failed meeting, looked so destroyed.

“What are you doing he-”

“One sinner.” He breathed his eyes finally moving from the card to look at her and her traitor of an angel partner, Making their faces move to confused shock.

“Redeem one Sinner in a year on this day, And I'll stop the exterminations for good.”

Because if a sinner could be redeemed,

Maybe he could be too.

And just maybe, he would be able to return you.

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hazbin Hotel Adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #Adam x Reader #Hazbin Hotel #Sad one-shot #angst oneshot #Angst #Youtube

45 notes · View notes

kinkedup911 · 12 days ago

Text

Kinked-Up 911 - Bonus Christmas Episode

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to one and all!

Listen now on Spotify!

I'm very excited to bring you a special bonus episode of the podcast, recommending you some fantastic Christmas themed 911 fics and with a special appearance from members of the 911 fandom who join me to recommend some of their favourite fics!

A huge thank you to:

Shelby - (Sugar_Spice118 | Archive of Our Own) for recommending

Spider-Man: Into the Line of Fire - regularis_vas - 9-1-1 (TV), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Upon the Burning Stars - Erahelia - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) - Chapter 1 - letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Amanda - (liloslemonade | Archive of Our Own, @leathercouchcushion on Tumblr) for recommending

Sick with it - Mellow_Yellow - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Linda - 2pretty_2die | Archive of Our Own for recommending

Tethers - Chapter 1 - whileyouresleeping - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Denial-verse - Writer_Lethogica - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Miray - misspronounced - Works | Archive of Our Own, @miriellesandthegiantpeach on Tumblr for recommending

Bop it, Twist it, Pull it - al-the-remix (only_blue) - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Jeanna - @parrishjeanna on Tumblr for recommending

Obsidian & Oxygen - Chapter 1 - jobairdxx - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

allying too close to the sun - Chapter 1 - leashy_bebes - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

time is shortening (down to the bone) - Chapter 1 - calinaannehart - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Charley - @noblecharley on Tumblr

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face - HMSLusitania - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

These are all fantastic recommendations and all well deserved!

Christmas Fanfic Recommendations!

underneath the tree - devirnis - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Frowning to himself in concentration, Eddie carefully folds the wrapping paper around the corner of the box. He has no idea how his mother makes this look so easy, even after she walked him through it earlier on FaceTime.

Under the tree, Eddie’s present whines plaintively.

place or time - throughthelookinglass - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

The one where Buck and Eddie attend the LA Firefighter Christmas Gala and lose their minds over one another in a suit.

i'll let you fire my hose if you merry my christmas - Chapter 1 - browneyedgirl6 - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Buck’s an author who writes smutty hallmark books. He needs new covers for his holiday editions. Who better to model for them than himself and the hot dad who likes to be called eight pack?

BUCK/TOMMY AU - All I Want For Christmas... - Chapter 1 - writingcreature - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Three years ago, Evan Buckley was a forensic scientist specializing in facial reconstruction for the FBI until a vicious serial killer kidnapped and nearly killed him. He never fully recovered and gave up his job. While still in hospital, his wife Taylor filed for divorce because she’s more into partying than watching her husband dealing with the aftermath of his ordeal. And as if all of this wasn’t enough, Buck receives a devastating call: His sister Maddie and her Husband Howie died in a horrible car crash. And so, he became little Jee’s legal guardian. To escape the nightmare his life had become, he and Jee move to a small town near Whistler, where Buck earns a living doing odd jobs.

Just before Christmas, Hen, a good friend of Buck’s, asks him to house-sit. She expects a visitor but forgets to mention that Tommy Kinard is handsome, charming and slightly different because he is blind. Buck has no idea what he gets into as he and Tommy lock onto one another from their first meeting like heat-seeking missiles.

Dreaming of a White Christmas - rosebuddiekin - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Buck accepts a challenge to be edged in his and Eddie's own version of the 12 Days of Christmas and loses his mind a little more with each one.

#911 #911 abc #911 on abc #911 show #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #911 fic #911 podcast #fanfiction podcast #118 firefam #911 kink #911 smut #kink podcast #smut podcast #christmas #christmas smut #merry christmas

29 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 8 months ago

Text

a startling realization pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Oakley finally finds the words to explain what he's been feeling for you, but the sudden reappearance of someone from his immediate past threatens to dampen the mood. And ruin any progress he's had toward becoming more with you.

Pairing: Oakley x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k (get some drinkies ready)

Warning/s: angy boi Oakley at the elderly (she had it coming); bit of angst; language (like maybe 2 cuss words) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: only one bed trope at the end; special guest Hiddles character mentioned; jealous and clingy Oakley hours

Note to self: Find a massive care package for Y/N's sister to thank her for the new dresses, Oakley typed away at his phone, giving himself a reminder as he looked outside the cafe to where you were seated, admiring the way today's wine-colored dress made you look like a doll. Every dress the last few days did, and it always gave him the perfect opportunity to offer you his jacket if ever you started getting chills during your classes.

It was a rare beautifully sunny morning, and he told you to find a seat outside, beat the rest of the customers to it. He'd take care of ordering for the both of you. Much as he still didn't consider himself a morning person in the least, these hours he got to spend with you before your first class for the day made it well worth the adjustment. Especially today, that he was blessed with the vision of the morning light bathing you in such an ethereal glow.

You were more than a doll today, you were an angel. At the risk of blaspheming any deity out there, he might even call you a goddess.

It was just too bloody bad for him that other men were beginning to notice the change in your appearance, too. Some frat boys blatantly ogling you and nudging their mates to get a good eyeful as well, others even being so bold that they outright approached you to tell you how nice you'd been looking this week. While he was visibly in your company, no less.

And then…there was the worst of them all, at least to him. Your thesis advisor. Professor Laing. Who saw you even before your sister's intervention. Who showered you with admittedly well-deserved praises for being one of the brightest amongst his students.

Who saw you for everything you were worth even before Oakley himself did because he was so caught up in enjoying his life as a boy, that he didn't realize that a better life could have been waiting for him as a man.

Who was standing outside by your table, chatting it up with you with that blinding grin of his that he seemed to only have for you. Every other student in your year only ever got that menacing grimace as if he was lambasting every word that came out their mouth. No one dared approach him to become their thesis adviser, but for you…for you the professor approached you himself. Saved you the trouble of lining up with everyone else on the faculty and fighting your classmates for slots.

You were the only one he took on.

This was definitely a new emotion, the pounding in his chest, the furious breaths he was taking through his nose as he watched the two of you outside. Before there was only a mild irritation whenever he took notice of how much nicer the otherwise grouchy professor was to you. But now? Now it felt as if someone lit a fire under his arse. Now his insides were writhing with something he'd rarely, if ever, dealt with before.

Jealousy.

Laing made a motion as if to take the seat across from you, and from what he could see of your face, you seemed apologetic, explaining to him that it was already taken. "Yes, that's right, the seat's mine, you pompous wanker," Oakley muttered under his breath, forcing a civil thin line of a smile across his face when the older man looked into the cafe, his own bright smile fading into its signature grimace before he nodded at both of you, before saying something else to you, briefly touching your shoulder, and crossing the street toward the campus proper.

The elderly lady at the register cleared her throat, motioning for him to step forward. "A fry up with the works and a cup of decaf," he said absentmindedly, browsing the lineup of pastries for something down your alley.

"And for your girlfriend, dearie?"

The word felt like a jolt of electricity all over his body, all the way to the tips of his fingers. The roots of his hair.. "Erm, she's not my girlfriend, but I'll get two of those jalapeño cheese puffs, a lemon bar, and your largest iced coffee as well."

"Could've fooled me, dearie," she shot back at him. "The way you looked at her, your pupils might as well be heart-shaped." He handed her his credit card when she told him the total, his mind still fixating on that word.

Did he want that for you? Was he ready to put your friendship on the line for the chance of becoming something…more? How would you react if he told you he'd been thinking about you endlessly since he got back from Italy? Was he ready for the possibility of you rejecting him?

Did everyone that saw him in the last few days know what was going on in his mind whenever he looked at you? Was he that much of an open book that literal strangers could decipher him so easily?

And if strangers had read him within moments…had you read him, too?

"She's my friend," he said softly, the words fighting against him as if it hurt him to say. "How am I supposed to tell her--"

"I've been here quite a while, dearie," the lady cut him off. "And I've seen all kinds of stories play out in this here cafe. You're not the first ladykiller I've seen wanting to go down the reformation route, and you certainly won't be the last. I'll tell you what I've told every single one before you. You can't go about thinking about how to tell her, if you don't even know the words yourself yet. Once you can tell yourself how you feel about this girl, that's the only time you can start even thinking about how you're going to woo her."

Oakley began to stew over more questions, starting with whether he even knew for himself quite yet these feelings he was having for you. How long would it take for him to know what they were? Where would he even start to find the words?

What if someone else found his words faster? Told you before he ever could? Or even worse…

What if someone else already knew how he felt, and could articulate those feelings better than Oakley ever could his own? Someone who had years of experience on him, and was so visibly smitten with you, it was almost endearing that you hadn't ever noticed it?

"What if I tell her and it's already too late? Or she doesn't feel the same?" What if all she'll ever see in me is the randy scoundrel that juggled two affairs in Italy?

"Then at least you would have told her. Letting your words remain unsaid will weigh down on you your whole life. Until they burst out of you. Or they crush you."

The sound of the service bell from the kitchen effectively stopped the conversation dead in its tracks, leaving Oakley to process the sage woman's words as she brought the tray to him.

"Enjoy your breakfast, dearie. And your company."

Before he lifted the tray, he snuck a glance at your seat again, his blood going cold when he caught sight of the woman walking away from your table. He hadn't seen her face, not completely, just a glimpse of the side of her face.

That was all he needed, though. He knew that frame, so well that it made him uneasy. Anna.

Once he made his way to you, there was a faraway look in your eyes, repeatedly scanning the same page on your notes as if nothing was sinking in. "Y/N…"

You started in your seat, looking a bit like a cartoon as you shook your head rapidly to get out of whatever thoughts were running through your head. Then your mouth stretched into a strained smile again. Just like the night he got back.

The unsettling pit in his stomach returned, a mixture of shame and fear flooding him now that a part of what he wanted to leave in the past had followed him and found its way to you. He couldn't help himself anymore, he reached across the table and took your hand in his, desperately trying to close the steadily growing distance he was feeling between you two.

"Y/N what's wrong? That woman that was just here what did she--"

"She's quite lovely," you told him, your strained smile unwavering as your eyes flickered to your joint hands. "Just wanted to check up on you since she couldn't call your mobile anymore. You really shouldn't let the people that care about you worry like that, Oakley."

You returned your focus to your notes, pulling your hand away from his to trace along your line of sight on the piece of paper, and at the same time deflating him of any hope that he had that perhaps you two would have a rather pleasant morning. Simply joking around and roaming about the campus until it was time for your classes together.

He was hoping that maybe today you would be open to the idea of having dinner with him. He would dress all nice and bring you to one of those frilly restaurants with wait staff and fancy wine glasses. Before you two would pick up some pizza for your all-nighter at his apartment.

Any hopes of today having any form of levity faded into nothing all because Anna wasn't one to let go. She'd tried to impose herself into Oakley's life and when she failed, she instead drove you away from him.

His panic worsened when you placed your things in your book bag, only throwing a cursory glance at the tray he'd brought out. No no, please don't leave, he wanted to plead with you. Beg you if he needed to. Don't take my light away. My home.

"Wait…Y/N, where are you going?" He couldn't find it in him to speak any louder, the lump in his throat making it hard to even breathe. Please stay.

"Professor Laing passed by while you were inside. Told me his schedule's cleared up for the day and I won't have to wait until after lunch to consult with him about my thesis." His chest felt a sharp pinch at your monotonous answer, not even a hint of your usually playful tone present. Like you were just trying to get out with as little fuss as possible.

"But…" he uttered, his voice barely a whisper. Maybe even a whimper. "What about breakfast?" he asked you lamely. "I got your favorites." Please stay.

The smile you gave him now was mirthless. Civil. "If I hurry perhaps I can find that lady friend of yours. She could join you, have a lovely morning together."

"No, no, Y/N stop." He placed his hands over yours, grabbing hold of your book bag for dear life. The words he was biting back from before began to spill out. "She doesn't mean anything to me. Just…just…please? Sit and we'll just finish our meal together and I can walk you to Laing's office myself." Please stay. Stay with me.

"She might not mean anything to you," you muttered, your hands stilling when his thumbs began to stroke the inside of your wrists, the gesture a touch too intimate for the two of you. "But clearly you mean something to her. She went all this way to see you--"

"That's obsession, Y/N, not affection. She doesn't care about me. Not in the ways that matter." Not like how I care about you. "Please?" he tried again. "Breakfast? Then straight to Laing's office. No detours, no distractions." And no ghosts from my past trying to drive a wedge between us.

He finally felt like he could breathe again when you sat back down on your seat, taking a bite from your puff pastry with a ghost of a smile playing on your lips when the cheese and jalapeño hit your taste buds. "You weren't kidding when you said you picked out my favorites," you mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand while you spoke. "Thank you."

"You know I've always been curious what is it about those pastries that you love so much. The lemon bars I understand. Coffee…I've accepted we'll never be on the same page with that--"

"To you, Goldie, it's a necessary evil. To me, it's like petrol to a car," you explained to him. "I need it if I want to function properly. Now as for these pastries…" You cut a small piece from your pastry, making a motion to hand the fork over to him. "Since you bought today's breakfast, I think it's only right that I share and help you satisfy your curiosity."

The Anna-shaped cloud that hung over your heads seemed to have been shoo'd away. At least for now. Oakley made a note to have a word with her if she was still hanging around campus after he walked you to your session with Laing.

For now he was more than content to enjoy the moment with you, wrapping his comparatively larger hand around your wrist and holding the fork in place. Then he held your gaze as he closed his lips around the tines, offering you a little smirk as he handed you back your now empty fork.

The remainder of breakfast passed quickly. Too quickly, if he was being completely honest with himself. Before he knew it he was already walking you toward your thesis adviser's office, once again fighting against the urge to wrap his hand around yours. To lace your fingers together.

"Alright so…I'll see you later tonight then." Your words violently yanked him back to the present moment. Tonight? "All nighter? Our thesis portfolios?" Your face fell for a fraction of a moment before stretching into that smile that now instilled the fear of God in him. He never wanted to have to see you smile like that again. To wear a mask around him. "But if you're going to be catching up with your lady friend I totally understand, we can always reschedule--"

"I'm not," he cut you off, frantically placing his hands on your shoulders. Part of him was fearful that if he didn't, you would have just slipped away. "Of course we're still on for tonight. I just--Won't I see you in class?" He was tripping over his own words, trying to get them out fast enough that you'd know he was far from wanting to cancel plans with you.

In fact he wanted to make more plans with you, if he could.

"Oh…right…" you said in an exhale, your features twisting into a sheepish expression. "Tiny thing…I took the exception exams. And I passed. I'm pretty much done with--Well, everything, really. Except this portfolio. I technically don't have to attend any more classes unless I just want to be a nuisance to our instructors. Or annoy the living daylights out of you."

There was another pinch in his chest as the information sunk in. Now he was going to have even less time with you? He must have pissed off some deity of confused and conflicted emotions, because they were making it increasingly difficult for him to find the time with you so he could make sense of what exactly it was he was feeling.

Why every time he saw you all he wanted was to have you right next to him. To put his arm around you, not even to tell every onlooker that you were with him, but rather just to feel you there with him.

Why the moment you parted ways all he could think about was when he would see you again, his thumbs hovering over the buttons on his mobile, itching to send you a message. To make plans for the next day. For the weekend.

For after graduation, wherever that would take you.

"That's…that's wonderful news, Y/N. Truly. No one in our class has worked harder than you. No one deserves a breather more. I'll see you tonight, then."

He wanted to place a kiss on your forehead. Or perhaps your cheek. But the fear set in again that if he did, that was a bell he couldn't unring, and he wasn't even fully aware what bell it even was to begin with. So instead he handed you his jacket instead, draping it over your shoulders.

"In case you get cold."

There was a glimmer of something in your eye before you gave him a soft, warm smile, the kind that started to show that little dimple in your cheek. A real smile. The kind he'd been dreaming about seeing on your face when he pulled away after kissing you.

"Thanks, Goldie. Try not to take a nap during the lectures."

He stayed at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Faculty of English building until you'd made your way inside, offering him a tiny wave before the doors closed. There were words at the tip of his tongue, itching to be said, that was pure uncharted territory for him.

The mere thought of commitment scared the living daylights out of him; this wasn't his forte. Never had been. He wasn't the kind that thought about cleaning his apartment and making room in his drawers and counters for your things. The kind that only thought about spending the foreseeable future with one woman and deleting every other contact in his phone that he'd collected over the years for short lived flings.

He wasn't the type that planned for the long haul, the kind that wanted to be someone's husband.

And yet for you…he wanted to be that type of man. He wanted to go on an adventure with you that wouldn't last a few fleeting days.

The sound of Eric and Marcus chuckling as he approached the lecture halls brought him back to the present, his blood turning cold when he saw who it was they were laughing with.

"Oh look there he is! Oaks! Look who popped by for a visit." Marcus waved him over, Eric making crude gestures behind both him and Anna. There was an unease in the older woman's eyes as he approached, as if part of her knew that coming here, finding some out of left field manner to insert herself into his life, had crossed a line in the sand that he'd never thought of drawing.

In truth he'd thought that the boundaries were implicit enough when they all parted ways a week ago. He was wrong.

"What're you doing here, Anna?" There was no warmth in his tone, her smile immediately dropping when she realized that he wouldn't be one for niceties. Not anymore.

"I--Well my calls weren't coming through and I'd begun to worry and since I was traveling and passing by the area--"

"Well then isn't that sweet, Oaks, the lovely Anna here was worried about you--"

"Too worried," he butted in again, the grim and unimpressed expression on his face unmoving. "So you came here to…what then, exactly? Did you have hopes of starting back up what never should have been back in Italy?"

"Oakley, darling, why are you like this--"

"I'm not your darling," he snarled, his nostrils flaring with the anger starting to boil up inside him. There's only one woman I wish to call me that and she barely even wishes to look at me since you invaded our morning. "I made mistakes on that getaway and I have to live with those memories. But I don't appreciate when those memories are trying to once again be present in my life while I'm trying to build for my future."

"Your future?" she repeated, scoffing. "That quaint little thing outside the cafe? I met her. She seems like a nice enough girl. Smells awfully familiar. But Oakley you don't possibly think a girl trying to build her own life would want to already be shackled down by something as defining as being 'your future'? Girls like Y/N--"

"Don't you dare say her name," he cut her off, the older woman immediately clamping her mouth shut. "You don't get to talk about her and belittle her as if she's something beneath you." He stepped closer, standing at his full height and imposing herself in her personal space. "Perhaps I didn't make it clear enough what the boundaries were when we all parted ways, and that's on me. But I'm going to make them clear now. Italy and boyish trysts and letting women barely more than strangers cling to me affectionately? That is firmly in my past. And I won't respond with kindness to anyone that tries to go against my wishes. Am I clear enough now?"

She could barely meet his eyes, fidgeting in place like she was trying to fight against the instinct to back away. But she insisted on her own convictions. "Y-You're young, you-you don't possibly know what or who you want yet, you need g-guidance--"

"I know who I want and it's not you." He'd begun to raise his voice, passersby stopping in their tracks and turning their heads to watch the commotion. "This will be the last time I repeat myself. What happened in Italy is my past. And there is only room for one woman in my future. And you met her outside the cafe. Must I make myself any clearer for you?" She shook her head mutely, already shuffling away to the side.

"I-I understand," she stammered. "I hope she'll make you happy."

"She will," he shot back without missing a beat. "If she even gives me a chance after whatever it is you might have told her." She gave him a single nod, waving a final goodbye to his friends before awkwardly stepping further backward and away from them. "One more thing, Anna. It'd be wise for you to lose my number. I had yours blocked. That's why your calls weren't going through." Her face fell even further, eyes misting over. "At the very least you deserve some semblance of closure. There you go."

He walked away before she or anyone else could say anything further, the faint sound of his mates giving her a haphazard goodbye registering in his ears before he heard their heavy stomping footsteps as they caught up to him.

"Bit cold, Oaks."

"She wasn't getting the hint," he deadpanned. "Coulda been nicer, I'll admit that. But I also coulda been worse. Considering she was beginning to belittle Y/N like that."

"So…Y/L/N, huh?" Marcus queried, trying to change the course of the conversation. "Got your whole life with her all planned out and everything?"

"Yep. Y/N," he answered, unable to help the smile that stretched across his face even saying your name. "And maybe not everything. Not yet. All I know is wherever I'm going, I wanna be going there with her. No one else."

"Well, mate, it's about bloody time," Eric quipped, clapping both his hands on Oakley's shoulders. "Slight problem…doesn't she kinda see you as just…oh I don't know, a friend?"

"Yeah…I was hoping you two could take a pause from your dick wetting trips in Sorority Row and help me with that. Make her see me as something other than…well, whatever the fuck she's seen since Freshman Year." He felt so awkward even admitting it to these two. He needed help with a girl. No. A woman.

Quite possibly the last woman, if things went his way.

The sound of the egg timer going off jolted you and Oakley out of your last review session for the night, handing each other back the articles you'd been peer-reviewing for the past half hour. "Goldie, you know you were supposed to critique these, right? I'm finding no marks on any of these."

"That's because I couldn't find any parts to critique," he answered. He couldn't help but smile watching your mouth form into a pout at his words, brows furrowing as your eyes scanned the page, no doubt critiquing your own work now. He grabbed the ultra-fine tip dark green pen from your hand before it could touch the paper. "Your work is concise, and yet offers explanations where needed without going on for too long. There's no part that felt it went on for ages or needed more meat to it. My honest opinion? Your works are borderline perfect even Laing would be proud."

You let out a little hmph, looking over the pages again. "Funny that Laing said nearly the same thing," you muttered, shaking your head at the words you were scanning over. "But there has to be something--"

"Y/N," he cut you off, giving a gentle but firm tug to the papers to get them out of your hands. "If even Professor Stick in the Mud Immovable Object Laing said that it's perfect as it is, take the win and just use the rest of your time to…I don't know, kick back? Get some sleep? You're beginning to get bags under your eyes and if they go any further you can start carrying your books around in them."

He reached over to trace the curved line under your eyes with his finger to emphasize his point, causing you to break out into that lilting laugh that he adored from you. You swatted away his hand, sticking your tongue out at him. "You just want me to stop working on mine so I can help you with yours."

Oakley only responded with holding his hands up in surrender, giving you a slight shrug. "Only partly guilty as charged, darling." He bit the inside of his cheek at the endearment that slipped out. It felt too natural, rolling off his tongue with as much ease as his next breath. "Rest first. Then if I get another batch of red pages from Professor Adams I'll ask for your help. I wanna at least try to get through this without calling in the cavalry."

"The Cavalry…" you repeated, drawling out each syllable as a your smile grew even wider. Brighter. "How flattering." You stretched your arms upward, finally letting out a yawn. The fabric of your pajama top rose to expose your stomach from the motion, making you quickly put your arms down when the cold air hit your skin. "So erm…like always? Help me with the couch?"

Your ask brought to surface a rather unfortunate circumstance. "Right, about the couch…Eric stayed over a couple days ago, absolutely shit-faced and…" He made a motion to simulate throwing up, making your face scrunch up in terror. "I haven't gotten around to seeing if I can get it cleaned yet--"

"Cleaned?!" you shrieked, horror coloring your features when you realized that all he'd done was wipe away the sick, turn the cushion to the other side, and spray a mix of Febreze and bleach to the area. "Oakley, if I were you, I'd use that shiny trust fund that you're trying to deplete faster than it earns interest into throwing this one out and getting an entirely new couch."

"I'll work on getting it cleared out of here first thing in the morning," he swore, making you break out into a smile when he held up his hand in a scout's honor. "You can go ahead and crash in my room, and I'll take the couch tonight. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you earlier, it completely slipped my mind--"

"Nonsense, I'm not kicking you out of your own bedroom, Goldie. And making you sleep on cushions with dried up sick in it is just cruel and unusual punishment, I won't stand for it." You stood from your seat at the table, putting your things away in your book bag. "I appreciate the offer, but if this is the hand we've been dealt, then maybe we won't be able to stick to the usual schedule of an all-nighter tonight. How's about I head back to my dorm and I'll just swing by in the morning--"

"Y/N have you lost your lid, it's dark out," he blurted out, panic rising in him at the thought of you going out and walking back at this hour. "Well after dark, actually. Most of the lights outside have been shut off since the shops closed hours ago."

You huffed out a long breath, placing your hands on your hips and wracking your brain for another solution. "Well then if this is the hand that we're dealt, I suppose we'll have to sleep at the very edges of your bed, then."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "Pardon?" The same bed? With you? He might just lose out on every urge to hold you in his arms through the night. Or kiss you.

"I don't know, it's the only idea coming to me short of me sleeping on the rug--"

"You're not sleeping on the ground," he said sternly, his tone visibly taking you aback. "Pick a side then, right or left?"

"Right," you answered him after a few beats.

Oakley hadn't slept a wink that night, whereas you had no issues slipping right into slumber within minutes of easing yourself into your side of the bed, unwittingly giving him the most vivid glimpse into what a life, a future with you would be like. Especially when just under an hour after your breathing had evened out, you rolled on to your side and your sleeping form had draped your arm across his stomach, snuggling into his side and resting your head on his shoulder.

His breath caught in his throat, trying to fight the tears that pricked in the back of his eyes as more visions of what your life together could look like. As the words that he stomped back down his throat every time they threatened to come out finally stumbled clumsily from his lips the moment he placed his arm around you, tracing along your cheekbone with his other hand.

"I love you," he whispered, taking every ounce of his strength not to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, settling for tracing his finger along the bridge of it instead. "I don't know what I want for the rest of my life yet, but I know who I want to be there with me for the journey and it's you. It can only ever be you."

He pressed a ghost of a kiss to your forehead, holding you close as you slept through the night. All the while he was making a list in his head of arrangements to make for after graduation. For his future. And perhaps, if you felt the same, your future together.

Starting with a two-bedroom apartment for the two of you to move into once you were finished with this final semester.

A/N: A sequel to this story is already up for y'all to enjoy in the form of 'just another memory', so we all already know what becomes of Oakley and Reader in this story 🥹 Also there won't be anything that becomes of Reader and ✨Professor Laing✨…at least not the Reader from this story, because she's already very much down bad for Goldie Long Legs

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

#oakley #oakley x reader #unrelated #tom hiddleston x reader #muddyorbs writes

103 notes · View notes

libby-for-life · 3 months ago

Text

Inspired by @talesfromawannabejournalist, who's more than welcome to join in and turn this into a Role Play.

Lucifer let out a weary sigh as he slouched in his chair, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork. As the ruler of Hell, he was burdened with endless administrative tasks, particularly because he governed over a horde of sinful souls who were constantly attempting to exploit loopholes in his decrees. A low, menacing growl rumbled in his chest as he contemplated the audacity of certain Overlords who had grown increasingly bold in their defiance of his authority.

He found some solace in being the ruler of Hell, knowing that it afforded him the ability to provide his daughter, Charlotte, with anything her heart desired. The thought of his cherished five-year-old daughter brought a rare smile to his face. Amidst the darkness and suffering of his domain, she was the sole source of light and joy. The only one who could get him to feel something other than hate.

Not even her mother could do that.

Lilith Morningstar was a remarkable figure. Not only was she considered the First Woman, but she also held a special place in his heart when she was first created. It's possible that he truly loved her for a while. However, it became evident that she had evolved into someone quite different from the woman he initially fell in love with.

They remained in a relationship for the sake of appearances; Lucifer believed he was in love with Lilith and didn't want to face ridicule for divorcing after going through so much to be together in the first place. Ending their marriage would have felt like admitting defeat, so despite Lilith having multiple lovers, they chose to stay together to avoid gossip and judgment.

He let out another heavy sigh, his eyes lingering on the ornate clock hanging on the wall. Extermination Day was looming on the horizon. It was a day designed to prevent the forces of Hell from ever mounting a challenge against Heaven. Once a year, angelic beings descended to eradicate the Sinners. Lucifer couldn't help but feel a sense of indifference towards the fate of the Sinners. He resented Heaven's interference in his affairs, yet begrudgingly accepted it and turned a blind eye.

As he strolled to the balcony, a sense of anticipation welled up inside him. He knew that before long, the familiar portal would open, allowing the angels to enter his kingdom. His brother had assumed the role of the leader of the Exorcists for quite a while now, and every time he beheld the leader in all his majestic splendor, Lucifer couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment. Despite the physical distance between them, his status as the Devil endowed him with formidable power, enabling him to perform feats that surpassed the capabilities of ordinary demons and humans. For instance, his ability to perceive events transpiring over vast distances was a testament to his extraordinary prowess.

As he gazed at the figure adorning the majestic armor that belonged to Michael, he couldn't help but notice the subtle yet distinct differences in appearance. The way the light reflected off the intricately crafted armor only served to emphasize the fact that this new angel was unlike any he had encountered before. With a sense of intrigue and suspicion creeping into his thoughts, he carefully concealed himself within the shadows and silently took flight from his balcony, determined to closely observe and scrutinize this enigmatic new leader.

This one was beyond different and when he took off his helmet, most likely to get some fresh air on his face, Lucifer's eyes widened. No, it couldn't be. But he would never forget that face. Not even in the millennia that has passed. The new leader of the Exorcists was none other than Adam, the First Man.

And Adam looked so different than when he was in Eden. Lucifer couldn't help but tilt his head in wonder as he gazed at Adam’s beauty. He looked like he had gotten softer, especially in the thigh, stomach, and ass department making Lucifer hum in approval. He certainly looked like a snack...

As he stood there at that moment, he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of possessiveness and greed that consumed him as it took over. The thought of Adam crossed his mind - what would it be like to be with the First Man of creation? He couldn't help but ponder the idea that no one could truly understand and appreciate Adam the way Lucifer had in Eden, and certainly not in the present moment.

So, without giving a chance for Adam to fly away, he flew out and pinned Adam to the floor of some alleyway. "What?! Let go!" Adam yelled as Lucifer materialized a strong rope to tie Adam's wrist together. "No!" He yelled when his ankles joined him. Lucifer hummed and whispered into Adam's ear. "Hello, Adam. It's been a while."

The angel lied frozen, a flicker of recognition crossing his face as the voice of Lucifer reached his ears. A sense of triumph filled the demon as he watched the angel's reaction. Why wouldn't Adam remember him? Perhaps he still harbored resentment over the incident when he had run away with Adam's wife, but deep down, Adam would always carry memories of their time together before Lilith had even come into existence.

"No...no, not you." Lucifer chuckled in amusement. "Yes. Me." He picked Adam up but not before gagging him. He didn't need to be noisy. He was well aware that Michael would try to make Lucifer give back Adam but they wouldn't dare do it themselves. Not after Lucifer makes a deal to never get involved with Extermination Day or the angels involved with it.

He threw Adam onto his bed and watched as he struggled, glaring at him. He really was cute to be doing that. Lucifer was much more powerful than he was, and if he so desired, then he could destroy him. Adam was lucky that Lucifer was content to just admire.

"Oh, Adam. It really has been a while!" Lucifer said with a smirk, watching as he heaved. Now, all he had to do was wait for his brother to call him so they could negotiate. But, while they were waiting, Lucifer could always see what was under all that armor...

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adamsapple #hazbin hotel lucifer #new au?#Lucifer's Mistress

37 notes · View notes

blu3-ja3 · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 3: Sunset High & Our Bodies Low

Chapter 1

Chapter 4

Simon is sitting on the couch waiting for Johnny, O'Connor had given John a list last night asking the man to run a few small errands for her. And when Johnny bounced up to him, with that blinding smile, to ask if Simon would join him the next day how could he say no? So here he is in an old pair of jeans and a plain black tee waiting for Johnny to appear.

The first time Simon saw Johnny dressed to go out it was a bit of a surprise to see the physical embodiment of sunshine dressed in street punk attire. Fully customized leather jacket, tight patterned pants, custom cropped shirt and accessories out the ass. Belts, chains, bracelets, necklaces, rings all decorated his body. The black combat boots customized with embroidery that matched the designs in the staircase leading to the club.

Simon learned rather quickly that MacTavish was an artist, the man was constantly creating, small sketches on a napkin while working or full on painting with an easel on the rooftop. Simon recognized the style of Johnny's work on his jacket and on his boots.

Today was no different, Johnny stepped out of his room wearing a black shirt with a custom bleached skull design, it had the sleeves cut off and most of the sides were missing so Simon could see the man's ribs and chest. His pants had two different patterns one half solid black and the other half red and black checkered. He's got a black studded belt and chains hanging from the belt, his wrist covered in multiple bracelets varying from a thick leather bracelets with studs to a thin braided bracelet with three colored threads with a bug charm and the alchemical sign for air.

Johnny is wearing a few rings nothing fancy just a few silver bands of varying thicknesses, his nails are still painted black but they're chipping a little. He's wearing little ghost studs in his ears and his usual silver ring around the shell and the black stud in the flat of his ear. He's still wearing a silver septum ring instead of the C shaped one he usually wears.

The thing that's keeping Simon's attention is the black studded chocker with a large ring on the front. Simon can see the way it moves as Johnny swallows and it's now the new bain of Simon's existence.

"Make me feel underdressed Johnny..." Simon loved the smile he received from the man, all teeth and gums.

"Sorry Si, but I like your look too. You wear it well it suits you... Mind if I do my makeup? Won't take me long I know what I want to do this time." Johnny sat in front of the mirror in the living room, it sits next to the large window that gets tons of light.

Simon watches as Johnny does his eyes, it's slowly becoming a guilty pleasure for Simon to watch him work. Taking various pigments of the same color smearing and smudging them around his eyes, taking the time to create intricate designs with his liner. Today is a special occasion it seems as Johnny pulls out his black lipstick and paints his lips with the dark pigment.

Simon meets Johnny's eyes in the mirror, they seem so impossibly blue thanks to the shades of red around his eyes. Then there's the smile and Simon is so certain his heart stopped.

"I could do your eyes real quick if you'd like?" Simon pauses at that thinking, Simon has worn eye black before. He wore it often when he was in the military, it helped hide more of his features. So Simon shrugs and shifts to look at Johnny as the man sits next to him.

It scares Simon a little with how quickly he's come to trust the man before him. In a matter of a few months Simon has allowed Johnny to see him without a hood or beanie, he allows Johnny to call him Si, he's letting him touch his face and to be near him with his eyes closed. Small things to anyone else but to Simon Riley these are steps and bounds beyond what's normal for Simon.

Simon is pulled from his thoughts as he feels a calloused hand gently cup his face, a finger running over his eyes, his brows and the tops of his cheeks where his mask doesn't cover. He can feel Johnny's breath as it fans over his face. Simon is a little confused with the gentle touches he's receiving, a part of him tells him it's because Johnny is messing with his eyes. But still it boggles his mind the tenderness that's there.

"Done..." Johnny whispers so softly, and when Simon opens his eyes he's immediately consumed by blue, piercing and sharp. He hears a hitching of Johnny's breath as Simon watches his eyes dart around his face. Simon's brain catches up and he remembers they have things to do

"Thank you Johnny... We should get going." Johnny nods, eyes still lingering and darting around.

They don't have much they need to pick up for O'Connor and the building. They share a communal washing machine and dryer, so once a month O'Connor gives one flat the task of restocking the supplies there. Detergent, softener, and bleach, nothing too complicated or expensive.

But the two men also took this as an opportunity to restock their own supplies and to do a little shopping of their own. Simon is gifted with a continuous view of Johnny bending over looking for items, truly a wonderful day. And if their banter is a little more flirty than normal well neither of them bat an eye.

Once home they're greeted by O'Connor telling them to meet everyone upstairs on the roof. Simon takes what isn't theirs to the laundry room and Johnny takes what they bought to their flat. They meet up on the landing outside of their door before going up to the roof together. Simon hasn't been up there too many times, only going up there on the rare occasion Johnny invites him.

Johnny opens the door to the little rooftop gazebo and greenhouse, the area is decorated with a little banner and balloons. There's a small table with a cake and a few wrapped boxes. The building residents are all there; O'Connor, Kyle, Gary, and Sam along with some of the regulars; Alejandro, Rudy, and Price. They all simultaneously yell happy birthday and Simon watches as Johnny lights up.

"It's your birthday?" Simon's a little upset he wasn't told but he's not sure why.

"No! My birthday is in two days what is all of this?" Simon felt a little relief but not much.

"We can't surprise you if you're expecting a celebration!" O'Connor is smiling so brightly as she grabs the two men by the arm and guides them over to cake with lit candles.

"Thank you for distracting him Simon!" O'Connor whispers in his ear before they all begin to sing to Johnny.

The celebrations continue as Farah and Alex join a bit late. They are all drinking and Gary has set up a karaoke machine, Simon is sitting a little ways away from the event in the green house. He's got a good buzz going and is just enjoying watching everyone. Simon has never really been one for parties but he enjoys the people here so he decided not to disappear.

"There you are! Been looking for your big brooding arse!" Simon looks up to see a slightly swaying Johnny.

"Sorry, not big on crowds..." Simon watches as Johnny stumbles over to him, he smells heavily of booze.

"Figured as much... So what did you get me for my birthday?" Johnny sits very close to Simon, their thighs are touching as Johnny smiles up to him.

"Nothing, didn't know it was your birthday... Sorry." Simon felt his throat dry up and his hands start to sweat as Johnny looked up at him through his lashes. His cheeks are dusted with a pink flush from the alcohol that spreads around his ears and down his throat, disappearing behind the choker the man is wearing.

"I can think of one thing you could give me..." Simon watched as Johnny's tongue darted across his lips as he leaned up towards him. A hand resting gently on his thigh causing Simon's heart to jump into his throat. Simon inhales deeply which was a bad idea as his senses are invaded by the smell of Johnny, spiced cologne, slightly floral from the makeup on his skin, acrid alcohol, and the musk that just is Johnny.

"You're drunk Johnny..." Simon leans away a bit, not a lot but enough to make his heart ache.

"Not enough to be confused about what I want Simon" Johnny's eyes are hooded as he stares at Simon almost pinning him in place as he moves closer.

Simon swallows the lump in his throat before, holding Johnny's shoulders and standing up. Johnny smiles that wolfish smile again before pawing at Simon's pants trying to take them off. Simon's heart stops and it takes everything in him not to just give in, but he doesn't want Johnny to regret this in the morning so he grabs the man's hand.

"You're drunk Johnny and you'll regret this in the morning... Come on, let's get you to bed." Simon has to take another deep breath as Johnny groans sad and defeated.

Simon gets the man to his feet before guiding him to the door leading down. He waves everyone goodnight before leading Johnny down to their flat. Once inside Johnny again begins to paw at Simon, moaning and begging the man for more. Simon struggles to maintain his stance but knowing Johnny is drunk is what drives him to not cave. This isn't what he really wants, it's what Simon tells himself over and over again.

He gets Johnny to his room, helping him remove all his jewelry and accessories, leaving to grab a damp cloth to remove the man's makeup. Softly wiping away the colors, gently rubbing his thumb over his lips. Johnny keeps them parted, going completely pliant in Simon's hands. Simon helps Johnny remove his, boots, belts, and his pants after Johnny begged for help.

As soon as Johnny's head hit his pillow he was out, snoring softly in his sleep. Simon placed a small glass of water next to Johnny's on his bedside table before tucking the man under his covers and leaving the room.

Once Simon was in the privacy of his room he let his hands roam down to his crotch. Ripping off his shirt, wiping the makeup from his eyes, pulling off his mask and jeans, Simon fell into his bed, palming the very prominent bulge in his briefs. A groan falling from his lips as he rubs himself through the fabric.

Usually Simon takes his time, teasing him until he's delirious with want and desperation but not today. Instead Simon quickly removed his briefs, spitting into his hand and taking his hard cock into his hand. He hisses at how hard he is, he's never been so turned on but that was before Simon started rooming with a hot Scottish punk. Johnny does things to Simon that no one has ever done to him before.

Simon's hand moves easily over his shaft, the mix of spit and precum assisting greatly. He's moving fast, fueled by the images his mind is conjuring, images of Johnny. Him staring up at Simon through his lashes while he's on his knees in front of him, his hands replacing Simon's own. Pulling and twisting just so the calluses on his hands add just the right amount of roughness to everything.

As Simon gets closer to the edge he gets more vocal gasp turning to groans, swears falling from his lips as he continues his menstruation on himself. A warm knott pulling tighter and tighter in his lower abdomen. The final image Simon's mind conjures is the wolfish grin Johnny gives him as a memory rings out in Simon's mind.

"Like a good ol' boy"

Simon's body goes taunt as his hands continue to move, touching himself through the waves of pleasure that crash over him. White hot pleasure snaps behind Simon's eyes as warm pleasure seeps from the snapped knot. Johnny's name falls from his lips as he feels the warmth of his own cum splatter across his chest. He lets himself go, trying desperately to catch his breath before moving to find something to clean himself with.

Once cleaned Simon lays in his bed, rubbing his eyes and forehead as the fog of pleasure begins to clear. His brain begins to flick through all the times Johnny may have flirted with him and the times he's reciprocated. Simon begins to grapple with the fact that he's crushing hard on his roommate...

"Fuck"

Simon Riley is crushing on John MacTavish...

20 notes · View notes

violetarks · 2 years ago

Text

"dearer than i?"

anime: attack on titan

character: reiner braun

summary: an eldian warrior falls for the forbidden enemy, and he knows he would sacrifice anything for you. or, at least he would if he could.

warnings: g/n! reader, second person pov, heavily based off that tiktok trend going around atm (yknow the one), just a quick fic, wanted to try my hand at angst

you're not the first to find out about his secret. and you're definitely not the last. people from inside the walls that you protect, they find out within the week. you don't know how you could've been so blind, so dumb. falling for someone like reiner... falling for someone at all. you were a soldier, for god's sake. not some lovesick fool.

but you sure did feel like one.

how he made you feel like a lovesick fool, and how much you loved it, loved him. you can't wrap your head around it, even as you cry in your sheets and hide all the presents he had given you — soft blankets, a now dried flower from his visit outside the wall — just so you could keep them. you couldn't throw them out, no, that would be barbaric. you... just need them here, for your sake.

he didn't even look at you when you called his name, pleading for him to come back and surrender. you begged him to stay home, to stay with you, and you were faced with the sheer rejection he unwillingly showed you as he escaped. how could you love someone who has left you behind in the remnants of his lies?

you criticise him for being such a beautiful man, who loves you more than either of you could ever love yourselves. but now you know why. because he could never forgive himself for what he was about to do to you, your family, and your home.

you could never forgive him.

which is why you are so utterly confused when you see a note in your room, on your desk, asking you to meet him at your special spot. he signs it with his name, handwriting rough as always and slightly more rushed.

you almost don't believe it's him. why would he write to you now? a long time after he left you. what right did he have?

you want to crumble it all up and throw it out the window, or burn it and let your bedroom go up in flames as well. you want to sell him out. you could bring levi, eren, mikasa or literally anybody else, they could hide in the shadows and strike when you have him at his most vulnerable.

it would be poetically miserable, an untimely ending. revenge tasted sweet on your tongue.

but you held it. your heart had it in a headlock, and it forced you to keep that note a secret, and it pushed your legs up that mountain, trekking through the heavy greenery. it made you look back at the talk blonde, with such broad shoulders that you had hugged so tightly your heartbeat could mould into his.

he is tired, he is sad when he sees you. he almost wishes you hadn't come. because he can see how tired you've become over the three years he left you here. you stare back at him, but you don't look mad or upset. you simply soak in the sight of him.

he will never forget the blood that seeped through your uniform, how even after he had caused your injury, you still chased after him with your gear when your horse was killed amongst the thrown rubble.

your hair is the same, you must've been maintaining it. you need to keep up appearances; the soldiers that were put under your command look up to you, they need to know how strong you are. and reiner can see that.

but you have a scar across your collarbone. namely, the place where debris of the village had hit you when he and his fellow warriors made their escape. he remembers watching you fall under the crumbled stone and wood. your yell of pain as you threw your head back, and he could see metal protruding from your upper shoulder, cutting quite roughly through the top of your trapezius, deep enough to leave the bumpy scar between your neck and shoulders.

bruises covered your body, and you have a bandage around your hand. you've always been a hard worker. and you'll beat yourself to death if it meant to get over him.

yet here you are...

what happened?

"you came." reiner says, voice low and just above the sound of the wind. it's midnight, just after, and he watches you in your shirt and your thick jacket covering your shoulders. he can't muster up a smile.

and neither can you. the note crunches in your fist. he watches. your voice comes out louder than his, just barely. "you called."

devoid of any true emotion.

he stands just four feet away from you, and if he shuffled he could engulf you in his arms. but he doesn't deserve it.

"why are you here?" you ask, suddenly in control of the conversation.

"i wanted to see you."

"why?"

"did you not want to see me?" when you don't answer, he fills the silence. "i missed you."

"do you, now?" a sense of doubt lingers in your tone. reiner nods carefully. "do you regret leaving?"

"i don't know." he says, rubbing his cheek. he isn't sheepish, he used to rub his cheek when he was nervous or he was flustered by you. you used to find it endearing, now you find it infuriating. you want to cut off his hand. "i don't know."

he repeats himself like a broken record and you step forward, your stance confident as you let the the cold air of the cliff push your hood off of your head. "would you have stayed if... if i did something?" you ask, brows upturned in desperation, "what could i have done to prevent you from leaving? what made you... stay with me in the first place?"

"i didn't want to fall in love with you, y/n, i promise that what we had was never planned. i didn't want it when we began." his words should hurt you even more, add fuel to the fire, but you find yourself momentarily thankful. "i stayed that long because i loved you more than my purpose. i loved you so much that i would disregard what i was meant to be doing. i just wanted to love you and have you. i wanted nothing more."

you won't cry for him. you won't shed one single tear for this dunce. not with how he stared at you when you were enrolled, not with how he kissed you out of nowhere when celebrating your graduation, not with how he made you feel like he would never leave you. no, you won't cry for him now.

he cries. he has tears running down his chin, but his tone keep steady. as if he's been practicing. the sight of you makes his heart lump in his throat.

"but... there was nothing you could've done to keep me here, y/n. i'm sorry." he makes you feel like you're not enough anymore. a plaything, a toy for him to drag around while he holidayed within the walls. reiner makes you feek like a fool. "i had to leave. and i couldn't take you with me. you don't belong with the people of my home. they would hurt you."

"more than you did?" you scowl, balled up fists as you glare at him. your heart pounds in your ears and your face feels like it's heating up. reiner's cool facade breaks, and he begins to wipe his tears away. "how could anyone hurt me more than you have?"

reiner speaks through his palms, "i don't know..."

"you never know." your voice is harsh, it's similar to the irritation that those soldiers spit to him when he is home. but the malice in your tone is different. far, far more hurtful. "why do you never know? you don't know any reason to stay, you don't know why you didn't just leave me alons, you don't know why you promised me the world and left with everything i was."

hands grip the edge of his coat. marley's colours litter his person, but nobody would notice. not with how well he had hidden it. but you'll remember the uniform of that bastard who killed your commander, who was playing a game with the lives of all your comrades. and you will never forget how reiner shares that same uniform.

reiner cries more, he watches you take another step forward and his fingers tangle in his jacket. you leave footsteps and leave a pang in his heart.

"i can't believe i fell in love with you! i—i wish i had never met you, reiner! annie was fucking right, i thought she just hated you, but she was just trying to save me!" you shout, anger lacing your throat as you throw the crumbled note into his chest. you're crying. you cry when you're angry. he knows, and he knows how much you wished you weren't crying. it drips onto the dirt. "i... i can't believe you would do this us... why didn't you choose us, reiner? after everything we all did together, you still chose to leave?"

he's going to give you the same answer, and you know it. you wait for him, though. a habit that just refuses to die with your memories of him. reiner holds the end button of his jacket, and he looks back at you with those puppy dog, sad eyes that he would give you when he accidentally made you upset. but you don't fold over this time.

you're in arms length.

reiner misses you the most at night. after a couple years of saying 'goodnight' to each other, holding one another as an excuse to keep warm, kisses of comfort, it's hard to go back to your life before. reiner finds it just as difficult. he waits, and waits, and waits for you to come into his bedroom and kiss him, sneak under his sheets and sleep in with him until an hour before you were to wake. but you never come.

"why didn't you just stay? we would've... you could have stayed." you say, scrambling for that piece of you stil loved him. it wasn't hard to find. you still looked at him the way you used to when you were upset with him, looking for some sort of reasoning. that was hard to find. "why did you do it?"

"i don't know." his voice is even more desperate than before.

when your fist collides with his jaw, sending his head up and his body falling back, reiner swears he's seeing stars. maybe that's because he was, having now been faced to the night sky. but there's no doubt that your punch had knocked his smarts back into play.

you're on top of him in an instant, tears rushing down your face and landing on his chest. you sit atop his hips, yanking on his collar to pull him up at you send another punch.

"i hate you! i can't—!" you begin to angrily call, reeling back to hit him again. you watch his face bloody. but it's not enough. it won't ever amount to the blood that was spilled those days he attacked your home. you will bruise your fists, bleed yourself for your revenge. "we will never forgive you, reiner. i will never forgive you!"

reiner's instincts kick in at your sixth hit, and his hand that was resting on your hip, keeping you in place, now comes up to catch your wrist, stopping your punches.

but you bring your other hand, backhanding him. "you ruined my life! you promised me you'd..." you mutter out, choking on your sobs, "why couldn't you just listen to me? i said you could come home! you didn't have to abandon me!"

your knuckle burns after the second impact, and you go back for a second shot when reiner lifts himself to sit up, making you shift back to sit in between the circle of his legs. your heels under the bump of his hips, you grasp the hand covering your wrist, trying to yank him away.

"y/n—"

"you left me."

"i didn't want to, y/n, i love you." he claims, and you watch as smoke covers the injuries you put upon him moments ago. it heals him.

"then why did you leave?" you gulp, swallowing the tears that were yet to come, "why didn't you choose me?"

he takes in a deep breath. his scruffy facial hair drew wet from his tears. his eyes are dark but brows are upturned as he stares at you. "i would've chosen you."

"but you didn't." you say, tight fists in his hands, "you still chose the home that threw you away..."

he can't explain why he did it. because he doesn't quite know. maybe it's because of how he was brought up, how he was sent so young to take down the enemy. but that isn't good enough.

"you can still come home with me." your voice sounds like as sweet honey, and he sees your gently link your fingers through his. your eyes are still red, but you look at him. that part of you that loves him is pulling through. "you don't have to leave again."

he holds your hand tighter. they've become rougher, callouses cover your palms. he sighs out, "if i go back to marley, then we can't be together." his warm hands catch yours, desiring your touch. he longs for your hold. your heart sinks. "but if i never return, i turn on my family and my country. they're... they mean the most to me..."

"the family who sent you off to war at such a young age to simply dispose of the ridicule they face? the country who forced you to infiltrate my home while you were barely a teenager?" you scowl, standing up and peeling your hands out if his. he drops his hands onto my lap, watching you take a step away from him. "they mean more to you, than i do?"

he takes a deep breath, and lets it out. silence follows, drawing on more and more. he won't answer you.

"you said you'd choose me if you could. you can, right now." you say, staring down st him, "but you aren't, reiner... you... you still won't choose me."

"i'm sorry."

"that's not good enough." you respond, wiping your face, "i'm sorry, but if you don't come back with me, then i'm sending my unit after you."

"stay a little longer. please." he pleads, standing up again.

"i can't." you respond, walking back towards the forest, "listen to me, reiner. come home and i'll make sure we sort everything out." eren wants to kill him. levi wants revenge. mikasa is willing to do anything to protect her family. you could try, though. you glare back at him. "but you'll give me no choice if you go back. i'll make sure to be the one to end you if you continue being our enemy."

reiner drops his shoulders. all the tension fills the air between your gazes. his heart swells at your words, and your hard gaze turning gentle.

"i'm sorry, reiner." you murmur, turning your head and looking at the grass beneath you. the moonlight sets your path home ablaze.

he smiles softly at you. "it's okay. i wouldn't want it to be anybody but you." he tells you, "i still love you."

your eyes train on the floor as your shove your hands in your pocket. a heavy breath leaves you, "i promise i'll spend the last moments of your life with you."

when you leave, reiner feels better. he shouldn't, you rejected him and refused to stay any longer at his side. you said you would send people after him, you'd kill him. but he feels better.

he wonders how long it'll last this time.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner #reiner x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #shinjeki no kyojin #shinjeki no kyojin x reader #snk #snk x reader

592 notes · View notes