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imababblekat · 5 months ago

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Accidental Eavesdropping?

Anon request, "Hey!!! Love your blog and your writing style, it’s amazing and so detailed!!! Can I request Bayverse TMNT Spider-man Au, where the turtles and spider-y/n are in a battle with Bepop and rocksteady. And in the last moments of the battle, spider -y/n saves the turtles but gets unmasked in the process. (They live) If you don’t want to do that idea! You can either delete this OR A moment where the turtles start talking about y/n and they don’t even realize that they’re talking TO THEM!!! This was funny to me for some reason lol 😂"

A/N: Aw thank you, anon! ;v; I went with the second prompt, btw. Leans towards Raphael x reader, but it's mentioned/hinted that the other turts also got the feels for reader. Any who's, I hope you enjoy! <3

◌(s,p) = spider persona◌

~xXx~

You're swinging over traffic, indulging in a rather quiet night despite the sounds of honking vehicles and other night life, when a sudden warm fuzzy feeling beams from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It's not your spidey sense per say, but something akin to it, all you know is that it's a good sense and you follow it with glee. It doesn't take long before the feeling is buzzing and you see the source of the feeling chilling atop a pizza parlor. Well, more like sources. You let out a small giggle, noticing that the four ninja turtle brothers seem to be in some sort of deep conversation or debate.

"Hey guy's, what's going on?!", you greeted, swinging in next to a steaming Raphael.

"Oh you know, just the daily sibling teasing while we wait for our pizza to be made.", Donnie shrugged, watching as you and Mikey did your secret handshake.

"Yeah? Let me guess. . ."

The eyes of your mask squinted as you pretended to skeptically look at all brothers before looking at the glaring gaze of Raphael next to you.

"Is Raphie suppressing his emotions again?", you chaffed.

Said turtle rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to one side as he growled.

"Great, just what I need. And don't call me that."

"Come on, I'm sure I can help! What's up this time big guy?"

Leo chuckled, gaining your attention while Raphael sent him a warning glare from behind you.

"Raph's got a crush on our friend."

At this your eyes widened, a small gasp escaping you as you looked between the two eldest brothers in excitement.

"No way! Who?!"

You're question went ignored as Raph threw his arms up, cheeks flushing a light hue of embarrassment.

"All I said was they smelled nice, and y'all chuckle heads suddenly think I've been struck by cupid or some mushy crap!"

"You complimented them, Raph.", came Leo's retort.

"I compliment people all the time!"

Everyone remained silent, giving the hot headed turtle deadpanned expressions.

"What? I do. Right (s,p)?", he asked turning to look down at you.

You merely shrugged.

"Sarcastically maybe."

Raph huffed, leaning back against the buildings ledge, you hoping up to sit next to him.

"So is anyone gonna tell me who this mysterious person is or nah? Come on people, I want the tea."

Mikey, idly spinning his nun-chucks, grinned widely.

"It's our friend, (y,n)!"

You sat rigid, mask eyes wide once more.

". . .Who now?"

"Oh you haven't met them.", Donnie waved off, checking his turtle made watch to see the remaining wait time on their order.

Raphael clicked his tongue, still slightly aggravated about his brothers earlier teasing. Meanwhile, you still sat frozen beside him, staring into the abyss with a racing heart.

"I still don't have a crush on them.", he muttered.

"You complimented them on their perfume!", Leo loudly pointed out once more.

"Why is that so weird?!"

The two started to banter once more, Mikey enjoying the show while Donnie threw in a few matter of facts to weigh in on Leo's side. You, however, felt never more thankful than in that moment that you wore a full face mask. If it wasn't for the coverage, surely the ninja brothers would see just how closely the color of your face matched Raphaels mask right now.

Raphael growled, fed up with his brothers ganging up on him and his definitely non-existent crush on you. If they were going to call him out, then he would do the same to them.

"Maybe you guys should get off my shell and jump on yours first! I ain't the only one whose been makin' googly eyes at (y,n)."

You just about fell off the side of the building, hands gripping the edge of where you sat, knuckles definitely white beneath your suit. What is happening right now, is all you could terrifyingly but blushingly think.

Leonardo and Donatello were quick to look anywhere but at Raph, trying their hardest to not blush themselves at their brother's call out.

"I seen the way you put on the macho charm, Leo, bowing extra deep and all your swooning romance book crap when they come over. And you, Donnie, sputtering and dropping shit when they try to help you with projects and their hand accidentally brushes against yours. And Mikey. . ."

All eyes focused in on the youngest of the bunch who sat ready and waiting to hear Raph's jest.

"Actually, Mikey you're not that surprising. You think anyone who gives you food is a gift from heaven."

"Hey, it's not my fault their cinnamon rolls are so good!.", Mikey pouted, bottom lip jutting out adorably.

Leonardo shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning towards you.

"What do you think, (s,p)? Are we over analyzing or are we right?"

The boys eagerly waited for your answer, for your input. Surely someone from the outside would be able to better determine the situation the brothers found themselves in. Well. . .should have been able to more like, as the response you gave was not what they were expecting.

A rushed, "Igotgo!!!", was all they got before watching you thwip away at the speed of light, leaving the turtles to look at each other confused and quizzically.

". . .Wait, so you guys don't have a crush on (y,n) too??", Mikey questioned with furrowed brows, innocently confused by how they could not.

Raphael groaned loudly as he and his brothers devilled into another childish debate on why they totally didn't have feelings for you, a familiar smell that had sparked the argument coincidentally wafting lightly into their senses upon the wind in the direction of which you swung off.

~xXx~

#bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse michelangelo x reader #bayverse mikey x reader #tmnt x reader #aged up tmnt #tmnt spiderman au #spiderman reader #anon request #imababblekat's writing

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year ago

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You're writing is amazing!! <3 If possible, is it alright to do something focusing on an embarrassed/shy sidekick that got injured in battle, and has to let the (flirty) hero tend to their wounds/wash hair/feed them because of how weak they are at the moment? Bonus points for a very touch starved sidekick, and some tension.

"Sit down."

"It's fine, I can-"

"Sit." The hero met their eyes. "What sort of mentor would I be without giving you the appropriate post-battle aftercare?"

"You don't have to phrase it like that," the sidekick mumbled. They did sit, though.

"What?" The hero grinned, opening up the first aid kit. "Aftercare?"

The sidekick looked down, horribly aware of the heat radiating off their face.

The hero laughed quietly; warm and fond.

"The injuries aren't that bad," the sidekick said. "I'm just tired." So very, very tired. Their limbs felt like melted marshmallows; pitiful goop.

"Mm, no wonder. You were very impressive out there."

"Just doing my job." They shivered as the hero began to make quick work tending to their minor wounds, touch warm and strong and confident. They tried not to lilt into it. They blamed the exhaustion in the fact that they did.

"And now I'm just doing mine, hotshot."

The hero pressed closer, shifting so that they could take the sidekick's weight. They stroked their fingers, entirely unnecessarily, entirely lovely, through the sidekick's hair.

The sidekick's eyes fluttered closed. A small, embarrassingly needy sound left them. "S-sorry."

"Don't be. You're sweet."

"I'm useless like this."

"I think it's adorable." The hero placed the last plaster over a cut on the sidekick's temple. "You never let me look after you normally. I like it."

"Well, I'm supposed to be supporting you...."

The hero pressed a kiss to the sidekick's temple.

The sidekick's eyes, for all of their tiredness, snapped open. They glanced up at the hero.

The hero smiled again. "Kissing it better. Did it help?"

The blush returned full force. "You're ridiculous."

"I could kiss the rest of them too. Just one might be a fluke. It's not scientific."

"So stupid." The sidekick covered their burning face with their hands.

"So cute."

"Don't tease me." It was another mumble; torn between the delicious squirming feeling that the teasing left in them and the sheer horror of it, that the hero might be mocking them.

They didn't think the hero was mocking them, though. They weren't the sort. Did they flirt with possibly everything? Yes. Were they unkind? No. But that didn't make it real. That didn't make the desperate rise of hope in the hero's chest any easier to bear.

"You are cute." The hero did a last check over the scrapes and scratches, before moving. They pulled the sidekick up into their arms, cradling them like they weighed nothing. "My cute little absolute devastation of a powerhouse."

"It was nothing." The sidekick clutched hold, stomach swooping.

"You saved my life."

"You save them. I save you. It's nothing."

"Hey." Some of the flirting dropped. The hero waited for the sidekick to meet their eyes. "It's not nothing. Thank you."

The sidekick swallowed, but managed a nod.

The hero carried them through to the spare bedroom, and for all of the sidekick's flittering nerves, they were half-asleep by the time they arrived. Sapped of strength and energy. It made it easy to go along with the hero for once, to let them tuck the sidekick beneath the sheets.

The world felt lulled.

The hero caressed their cheek, taking another moment to study them, gaze intent.

The sidekick slid theirs away, breath catching.

"I'm not teasing you," the hero said, softly. "I'm quite genuine in everything I've said or done. I wouldn't tease you. Not like that anyway."

"Oh."

"Get some rest, hotshot. Good job today. I'll be in the other room if you need anything."

The sidekick wanted to stay awake. They wanted to tug at the string of the hero's earnestness, whatever the hell it all meant. Their eyes were already closing again, the room tunnelled at the corners.

Their last act was to reach out, woozy and weak, and take the hero's hand. It felt like the bravest thing they'd ever done. Far bolder than that day's fight.

The hero stopped. They mattress dipped with their weight.

"Okay," they said, stroking their thumb over the sidekick's knuckles. "I'll be here."

And, even when the sidekick woke up hours later, they were.

#hero x sidekick #heroes #sidekicks #sidekick #writing #touch starved #fluff #hurt/comfort #story #fic #ficlet

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hotheadedhero · 8 months ago

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Ok question how would the tmnt bros (all 4) react to someone having a crush on them, and they confess, but the turtle rejects at time... but later on he realizes no wait I actually do like them!

But theres already been like a good month or more since the confession and their crush has been sorta avoiding them by hanging out with the other turtle bros and though still being polite, they avoid like being alone with their turtle crush and try to act like they don't have a crush still(but they do)

Sorry if I didn't write the request right! and thanks for your writing I love how you write the turtles!

Frothing at the mouth. No words. Speechless. Thank you so much anon! This request is absolutely amazing and tugged at my heart in all the good ways, you beauty. So glad you like my writing tyty <3 Apologies for the wait btw :] I might have meddled with the idea a bit depending on the turtle but I hope this is the kind of thing you were hoping for! May even make a part 2 continuation because there was just so much to write, this was really a lot of fun so thank you again :P I let fate decide which version to base this on and we got Bayverse!

Rejection, Realisation, and Regret

Warnings: bad language, grovelling turtles for their idiocy, angst with this in mind, oh these boys are some real idiots

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Turns you down as gently as he can but it still feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It may sound calloused but he's a ninja, a mutant, a protector before anything else and that includes being someone's boyfriend. With a constructive discussion on the matter, he can only hope that you understand his position. You assured him that you did.

So, then, how is it that he barely gets a conversation in with you these days? And why does that fact burn a hole in his stomach? This pit, although metaphorical, weighs down heavily on him. Assumably, he’s missing one-on-one with a friend until it truly occurs to him just what exactly is going on. There's a lesson to be learned here, he's sure - a saying that goes around as if taken from an ancient script: you don't realise how good you have it until it's gone. You're not gone perse but you make a point of avoiding him individually. As well-mannered as you try to be, he's noticed and he's noticed the hurt in his belly that comes alongside it.

He thought things were okay, that despite the rejection, you would still be able to comfortably continue your friendship without any issues. It seems he managed even to fool himself. Being so caught up in what it means to be one of New York's self-acclaimed protectors, he was completely absentminded to the feelings that had been bubbling up inside him all along. No wonder he's been losing focus on his training as of late. He has attempted to try and talk to you about it but to no avail. Has your heart really been that broken?

For once, he doesn’t know what to do, or what decision should be made. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. Who's the one person he can turn to at a time like this? Come on. Who else would it be?

"Sensei, you know better than anyone that our position comes with complications. That we as ninjas are sworn to certain oaths.”

"Yes, the duty of yourself and your brothers is indeed a heavy burden. Responsibility comes with risk and consequence as I am sure you are well aware of by now.” Splinter watches his son bow down as he thoughtfully strokes his beard. "However, sensei, rat, master; alongside all of these things, I am foremost a father who wishes to see his sons be happy. You're in love, are you not?"

Leo’s attention quickly turns up from the floor to his master. How had he figured it out? Must be that parental instinct. Either way, he’s thankful for that in some respect. It makes this easier. Less complicated.

The turtle nods and breathes out, "I am, Sensei."

"That's what I thought." His father lays a hand over Leo’s shoulder before it taps him against the side of his head. "Now, what are you waiting for? Talking to me isn't going to change the situation."

Splinter is right. It's high time for him to get out of his funk and strategise the best way to make amends. He can only hope he isn’t too late.

Raphael

Rejects you thinking it was some sick prank curated by his youngest brother or something. There's no way you have a thing for him. He's a mutant and you're a human. How could someone actually be in love with a freak like himself? That's why he blows up in your face when you attempt to pour your heart out to him. Whatever joke you thought would be funny, isn't.

He may have taken things out of proportion. This much is made obvious enough by the poorly thought-out excuses you make just to avoid being alone with him. Yeah, that's right, he thinks. You should feel ashamed for trying to pull a stupid stunt like that, for trying to mess with him. He's standing firm on his self-assurance. Don't think for a second that he's going to lose sleep over what he said that day.

However, life has a very funny way of playing its own game. It all comes to fruition when you're laughing with the leader of the brothers. When your hand landed on his forearm, Raphael was struck with something fierce. The shot of jealousy to his heart almost takes him for a wild spin but he disregards it for typical Leo/Raph rivalry. Until that night, anyway. This man is tossing and turning in bed, ruminating on that sickly feeling in his chest; losing sleep over it. No. Surely not. He isn't in love with you. This isn't something that's been in the making for however long now. So what if you managed to calm him down quicker than anyone else he's ever known? Big whoop if you used to make a point of checking up on him when no one dared to go near him. It’s no big deal that you’d hype him up and cheer him on before each mission.

Fuck. He's been in love with you this whole time, hasn't he? Oh, you have got to be kidding. This was probably the only chance he had at something close to normal in his life and he trampled over it like it was nothing. That's assuming it was even genuinely meant from your end to begin with. He still has his doubts all things considered. Either way, he can’t just sit in bed and wallow in his head all night. He needs some air.

"What crawled up your shell and died?"

Great. He had hoped to get some peace and quiet. Not that this city knows the definition of either word but that isn’t the point.

"Not now, Jones. I ain't in the mood."

Casey's head rolls against his shoulders and he sighs, "Hey, if this is to do with (Y/n) ignoring you, what do you expect? 'Can't just make someone cry and expect things to be okay after without an apology."

Raph's mask slowly descends and hoods over his eyes, those of which are now staring down the detective.

"Oh, shit. You didn't know?"

No. No, he did not. He really made you cry? Why would you-? Ah. Two things smack him up the head at this moment: you meant every word of what you admitted a month ago and he is an absolute asshole. Despite already living in the sewers, he feels like the scum of the Earth.

That's it. No more holding back. No more being chicken. He might have ruined his chance but he can at least try and make things right by you.

Donatello

Aloof. Absolutely aloof and utterly clueless to the fact that you were even trying to admit your feelings for him. Yet, the way that the whole situation plays out makes it seem as though he had denied you. His head is usually stuck in a book or on one of the many screens that litter his quarters. What can you really expect of him? Unfortunately, this isn’t something that comes to mind nor is taken into consideration when you attempt your casual proclamation. With his eyes glued to his computer, his inattentiveness could only be read as uninterest to which you find it’s probably best to withdraw yourself.

In the weeks to come, it still doesn't even occur to him that you were confessing. The only thing that dawns on him from your weirdly abrupt absence is how strange it feels without you around. You still engage in your regular visits to the lair but are always elusive to his corner. Had he missed a memo? He can't quite place a finger on your change in behaviour. Then he realises just how much he enjoys and misses your presence. Even just how you'd pass by his little section of the lair and do something as small as asking him what he's working on. The small details should always get their chance in the spotlight but he managed to miss them when they were right there in front of him. When you were in front of him.

Subsequent to this steady progression of fluttering heart palpitations upon the thought of you and his drying throat when he tries to speak your way, he decides to take some action. At least, that’s the plan he has in his head. You hardly look his way, so he needs to find a way to gain your attention. There must be some way. With somewhat of an idea in mind, he dials a number through his computer and lets it ring.

The other side of the line picks up and there’s a voice. “If this has anything to do with goons, aliens or whatever trouble you guys have gotten yourselves into, I don’t want any part of it.”

“Relax, Vern. This is something that entirely requires your expertise without life endangerment. I need to ask about women,” Donnie confirms, cutting right to the chase.

There’s a pause. "What-?” Another longer pause and then an inhale. “Can't you just ask one of your brothers or something?"

Yeah, right, because his family of sewer dwellers are so well-equipped for this matter. Even asking for Vern's aid is pushing the boat a little but it's better than nothing - a baseline structure of what to expect is all he needs. The internet would probably be more reliable but it doesn’t include that vital real-world experience.

"You engage in frequent courting. By all accounts, you're the only person I know who has enough field experience to give advice."

This might be giving Vern too much credit but this is a surefire way to get what he wants. Feeding a man's ego can accomplish many things. Call it manipulation of the circumstances if you will but no harm done.

"You know what?” There’s a brightness in his tone, an uptilted cadence in Vern’s rhetorical question. Bingo. “You being the smart one has never been more accurate, Don. Alright, I'll help you."

The notes he takes are unfathomable but he wants to make sure that everything is thought out with careful precision. That's not even taking into account that he needs to muster the courage to ask you out in the first place.

Michelangelo

One would think that this guy would be jumping with unparalleled joy to have someone confess their feelings for him but he's got eyes for someone else. April O'Neil is his one true babycake, his angel face, the first love he had ever known. He turns you down in the friendly way one would expect him to if not a little cocky. Who wouldn't want a piece of the MC Mikey? There aren’t any hard feelings though, right?

Well, no but the sting that follows is still too much for you to handle. Too much in fact that you decide it's best to recoil into a shell of your own and spend less time with the loveable terrapin. Such a shame as well considering you're missing out on your regular gaming sessions together. It probably sucks big time to be rejected but he meant no harm by it. He thought you could still hang out as you normally would. Perhaps you just needed some time. That’s what he reckoned until the days turned to weeks and those weeks to almost two months.

He’s subjected to playing bystander when you hang out with his family, barely getting a chance to have a word with you alone. If this treatment is good for anything, it gives him a chance to spectate and watch how you interact with those around you rather than directly with him. He recognises how much he adores that sparkle in your eyes, the playfulness of your tone when you crack out jokes with his brothers, how you light up the entire lair when you make your presence known. There is this unshakable spirit within you that he somehow never noticed until a few days prior when you took the liberty of playing an incredibly bold practical joke at Casey's expense. Man, this turtle's heart sored higher than it ever has before, which is saying something considering he had to jump out of a plane once.

Well, colour him surprised. He was so sure of himself that New York's favourite journalist was the only one for him but it seems he was wrong. Oh, man. He's feeling pretty bad now. He can surely make up for what happened though, right? Hopefully. There's only one way of finding out but he has one thing he needs to do first before talking to you.

"I'm sorry, angel face. My sights have been led astray. My loyalty shouldn’t be doubted but it’s for someone else now.”

The way Mikey is knelt down, head lowered with April’s hands in his own is a perplexing sight if not curiously amusing. His feelings and the pronounced “dibs” on the reporter have been no secret but his recent infatuation with you hasn’t been much of a secret either. Not to her anyway but she likes to think she’s good at picking up on these things.

“Just know that you'll always have a special place in my heart,” he finishes, ending the overly dramatised display by holding a fist to his chest.

"Considerate as always." Her expression is somewhere between humoured and endeared, fighting the shake of her head at how adorably ridiculous this turtle can be. "Thanks, Mikey."

Now that's out of the way, he can go into this with a clear head. Although, the only thing really going into this is going to be all of his heart.

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kazumiku · 1 month ago

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Hi Kazu!! I hope you've been well and taking care of yourself!!<3 Can I request something silly if you have time? Maybe modern au bf Scara X reader fluff and they're dating and and and reader comes to him for comfort because they're tired? Pretty please pretty please? Pretty pretty please?

HAI SEL!!!!!!!!! i wish you well in return, i miss your silly a lot :3 this is such a cute prompt i hope i wrote it correctly!! ive been having bad mental blocks as of late and its getting to me

gn!reader, fluff, angst (?), some tw stuff in there (implied ed), this is a lil specific, scara issa lil meanie, 1110 words !!!

Your head has been buzzing since earlier notice, the walls of paper stacked on your desk made out to be your torture chamber as your back slouched over the table. Words made little sense as your eyes tiredly skirt over the page of your textbook, but nothing is tarrying into your brain, either way. An ultimate decision to retire for the night came to you, as you lazily dragged your feet to plop at the edge of your bed.

"Kuni, I'm tired." Your eyes scrunch at the brightness of your phone screen as you type onto your messaging app. The name of your boyfriend resides at the top of the conversation, accompanied with a singular purple heart that complimented his aesthetic. It didn't take long for him to respond.

"You're still awake?" A question from him. "I couldn't sleep." An answer from you.

It was silence on the other line, your phone tinged in time as you yawn. "I'm coming over."

Scaramouche didn't waste his time, too. Your clock was only about to hit a few minutes till your door clicks twice and footsteps enter to your room, the jingle of the spare keys you lent him followed after each step till he reached your bedroom.

"I was going to say you didn't have to," you sighed as the sight of him greeted your muddy vision, the unders of your eyes much darker compared to the rest of your tone. "You could've went to sleep."

Your choice of words didn't rub him the right way, as his eyes squinted immediately to glare sharp daggers towards your way. "Don't go all pissy-baby on me, I brought food. The least you could do is thank me for taking action." Scaramouche scolds, tongue clicking on his teeth.

"My knight in shining armour, thank you so much for being a good boyfriend!" with a tone leaking with sarcasm, your lips tug into a grin as you motion him over. "Come here, I missed my cute little princess."

"The thank you was enough, but you kept opening your mouth," his arms crossed over his chest as he slowly walked your way. "Like a rat. Suck it up, Mickey Mouse." Scaramouche threw the plastic bag in your arms before settling beside you, the bed dipping due to the shared weight.

His chest felt lighter as he watches you immediately scavenge the insides of the bag, which had a surprising amouth of snacks than you first expected. "Ice cream! Ohh, candies, too," your eyes swiveled to the treats before looking over to Scaramouche who settled by your side. "You brought a lot! Can I even finish all of this?"

"You look like you can."

"Excuse me?" your brows creased, and the shift of your expression earning you a chuckle that sounds from his chest.

"I'm kidding. You can save the rest for later." Scaramouche rolled his eyes at your slightly pouty look, yet the upturn on one corner of his lip couldn't be helped. He doesn't seem to mind if you stuff up your cheeks with food, anyway. A tug in his heart leaves him to find it adorable, to an extent, he never brought himself to hate the foreign feeling.

Just as you go to town with the snacks offered, a warm palm pressed up your cheek, pinching the plush fat. Soft, he pulls on your face.

"Ow! Kuni, what're you doing?" your head tugged to the side, offering him a clear display of the bags weighing heavy under your eyes.

"You weren't lying," a sigh left his chest, "You look tired, too." Scaramouche could dissect the different reasons that brought you up to this point of lassitude. You've ran your brain too much so to the point your body couldn't chase the speed of where your mind started and ended. The telltale signs of fatigue told him far more than the words you offered to him for that evening; "tired" barely scratched the surface.

You look like you've barely eaten too.

His eyes drifted around your room in search, only to be met with a pile of books on your desk, loose stacks of paper barely held by clips, and the trash bin filled to the brim with crumpled notes and an empty cup of noodles which seemed to be opened a day ago… that was one thing. He couldn't find any other signs of you sustaining your body.

"What have you eaten this past week?" Scaramouche questions with urgency underlying his voice. "I passed by your kitchen and your dishes were unmoved, the fridge was just as full as the last time I went over here, and I only found three empty wraps of mints and a finished cup of noodles so far." his eyes scan you, as they always do, watchig your frown deepen at the realization of how much time has passed since you started to engross yourself in education.

"Sorry. I got carried away," it came out as a grumble in your chest, leaning onto the palm of his hand as it shifted to cup your face. "It's too late now, anyway. My body caught up with my head, I'm tired. Would it be too greedy of me if I ask you to hold me?"

Scaramouche clicked his tongue, his hand dropping from your face entirely to hold you in his reach wordlessly. "Greedy? You're spouting nonsense again. How bad did you fry your brain? You barely had one to begin with," he mumbled under the light hearted tone of his breath. He's moreso frustrated on the fact you're capable of neglecting yourself this much, and brushing it under the rug like it's nothing. Although you're not wrong, anyway, he doesn't put up more of a fight than he already is.

"Don't eat too much of the snacks or you'll get a bad ache in your stomach. Give me a minute, I'll order a meal," he instructs, pulling his phone from out of his pocket and typing away.

You idly blink to his way as he does so, stuffing your cheek with a biscuit while a soft hue coloured the tips of your ears. "Nnh, you love me." you grinned at Scaramouche's unquestioning aid, leaning against him with a drowsy, dreamy sigh.

"Of course I do, dumbass. Have I ever made you thought otherwise?"

"No. I have you wrapped around my pinky finger."

"Exactly, now shut the fuck up. Food will be here in a few minutes, and I still need you awake by then. Don't force yourself to speak, I'll handle what I can."

Could you really fight back now, when he's so adamant in taking care of you?

"Mhm…"

main navi!

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razzle-n-dazzle · 9 months ago

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- hi ! 💌,,

ISTG you’re writing is so well done and creative I had to contain myself from like spam!!

I hope you’re still taking request and if you’re not that’s totally cool, I’ll wait ‘till next round.

Adam reincarnates in hell and oh, would you look at that? the s/o is the only one trying to help and not making him feel worse that he already is. (i just need wholesome content, exam week is killing me rn).

AGAIN, love you’re writing thx for reading so far!

ᯓ★ Let's Give This Another Shot (and not fuck it up this time) Sinner! Adam / Sinner! Reader | Drabble

‗ content / trigger warning: fluff, swearing, Adam being Adam, not proof read (we die like Adam) ‗ author's note: this is for everyone who's dealing with exam weeks, it sucks but I believe in all of you any you're going to kill those exams! (don't let them kill you!). Also thank you so much for the compliments Anon <3, I write for the people and myself, so I'm glad everyone is enjoying the crazy shit I've posted here!

ᯓ When you fall from grace, it's not a pleasant feeling; That Adam knew - or at least he thought he knew - well enough from hearing about Lucifer falling, hearing the horrific things the others whispered about it, mentioning it in passing before the thought disappeared and dispelled into the air as though Lucifer had never held a place in Heaven. As though he was nothing that what he was now, demonic figure that wore a crown made out of skeletons and bones fashioned to mimic horns. Adam never cared about the stories that were whispered, about the horrors he sometimes heard through passing, about Sera recalling how she heard Lucifer scream on the way down, about how Michael watched with horror as Lucifer tried to shield Lilith and himself, about how Gabriel heard his pleads and couldn't do anything; No one could save him from the fate that had been weighed on his shoulders as soon as he had fed the apple to Eve. And partly it was because Adam blamed Lucifer for ruining his paradise, for infecting the mind of both his (ex) wives and causing him grief and pain. Dying alone is almost just as unpleasant as falling from grace; almost.

ᯓ You see, while Adam had died alone on Earth, at least his soul went to somewhere pleasant and he was able to continue living; To make a name for himself and, he guessed, make some friends and live a rather worriless and carefree life in the clouds. He was able to have fun, rock out, and be known as the first human soul ever being able to reach Heaven - that was something not even Eve managed to do, and he took it with pride! It was his title. It was partly who he was. Maybe it was all he was. That much became more clear to him when he found himself waking up in Hell again, the stabbing pain of a dagger striking his back still their along with the weight of his wings. At first, he had thought he managed to survive the assassination attempt, that Lute had just left him in Hell on accident or because she thought he was dead. It caused some sort of pride to well in his chest, a flame that sparked his need to go boost and scream at the top of his lungs - he had survived an angelic weapon! He was immune! He was the strongest angel there was, because Sera would totally fall and die in a sad crumble after being stabbed with angelic metal! He was . . .

ᯓ And that's when Adam happened to pass by a mirror, or well more of a reflective glass on the street of Hell (as he walked, not questioning the odd ball looks he got), and that's when he saw it; What looked like a stranger to be staring back at him, engulfing and taking over his reflection like they owned it, like it was there own. That wasn't him! Well, it looked like him, he could admit that, but it wasn't as sexy or as handsome as him! The reflection would copy his movement, snarling as he did and grinning all the same. With his same fluffed up hair and piercing eyes, the reflection wore no mask yet still held the horns of his all the same; Even the way they slowly curled back before dipping down, forming and L for the gold spikes to rest at the end. The reflection wore his exterminator uniform, yet it was the darker version with the yellow having somehow been dulled and deepened and faded out all at once. His wings were still golden, still tucking at his sides from under his arms all the same, though there was no halo to accompany them this time. And Adam almost wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria or maybe it was disbelief, yet he watched to cry and laugh and break the glass all at once; Denying that this was his fate, being unable to stomach that he, First Man Adam, was not only double dead yet in hell. Hell! The first man cannot be in hell, he had created everyone on Earth; All of them came from his nuts and in turn all of them should be praising the fucking land he walked on because if it wasn't for him he wouldn't be here!

ᯓ And yet the Reflection looked back all the same, teasing him with a distorted grin; Like it could feel his distress in the way he curled his fist, pulling back before he slammed it against the glass. It gave a crack, a small one at first, before completely shattering. Adam could care less what shop or business had that glass, he could care less how he effected them or how he was going to be painted in Hell, because this was some crazy mistake! He was not supposed to be down here and he was not going to stand for some stupid mistake that happened because some small crazy bitch decided to back-stab him! Literally! And yet, if Adam wanted any of the answers he so desperately craved, he would have to suck in some of his pride and trudge along to the damn Hotel and talk to the residence who had taken his life. It would take him a while before he accepted such a fate, taking the chance between deciding and doing to walk along the Pride Ring before stumbling into the wrong town and being chased out by crazy demons who wanted to bite him! Maybe even eat him . . . What crazy place is this?!

ᯓ When Adam had begrudging and reluctantly knocked on the new Hotel door, which he would never admit to stopping and marveling at for a second, he would feel that ever irritating dread weigh in his stomach. Who wouldn't feel such a feeling after coming to the front door of a group of people you had tried to exterminate only, Adam didn't know how long, prior! Maybe, silently, somewhere inside Adam knew if he were in their shoes, having faced what they had, he wouldn't accept him either; He would throw him to the curb. Yet, he didn't exactly like that thought, and it wasn't very on brand, so he shoved it down and away and deep until all the could think about is: How in the hell would they not accept me? I'm Adam, I'm the first man! And yet when the door opened, allowing Adam to come face to face with none other than Vaggie, he felt that dread creep in a little. But, not enough to stop him from greeting Vaggie in a less that desirable way, "What's up Vagasaurus?" The sneering comment left his mouth, "I love what you did with the place. You know, it looks slightly less like a destroyed pile of Sh-" Yet the door would only slam in his face before Adam could finish his thoughts or his words; Leaving him standing outside, a tad awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open again. He, also, would never admit giving a glance behind him, making sure no one was standing there to watch him standing in front of the doors.

ᯓ "Vaggie, who was that?" Charlie would call to her girlfriend as she walked away from the door, coming towards where Charlie sat on the floor organizing new activities that everyone could do. All while Nifty rushed around nearby, cleaning Sir Pentious' and Dazzle's memorials in the new Hazbin Hotel. She muttered to herself quietly, not bothering Angel and Husk, who sat at the bar. "No one important." Vaggie would mumble, not being able to catch her tone before it could reveal that it was someone less than desirable. Possibly another sinner choosing a path of redemption after the last extermination! Which the thought caused Charlie to gain a burst of energy, barreling onto her feet so quickly that she knocked around the carefully organized slits of paper on the floor. Vaggie tried to protest, saying it was truly no one at the door and Charlie should just leave it alone! But she was never a really good lair, "Oh calm down Vaggie, I'm sure it's no one bad!" Charlie would grin with a wave, her hand touching the crisp and cool metal of the door handle before swinging the door back open. "Hi, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can I-" And yet her words fell flat as soon as her eyes were locked onto Adam's - who quickly spun around, pretending like he hadn't just been looking behind him - and was also welcomed by his light groan of annoyance. "Oh fuck me." ". . . help you." Charlie's voice flattened, dropping as her eyes widened. You know, she's never felt this shocked to see someone at the steps of the Hotel before since Alastor had came along without warning.

ᯓ "Adam?!"

ᯓ "BITCH CAN YOU NOT SHOUT MY NAME?!" Was the next words that were exclaimed out of the ex-angel, the now outcast, as he seemed rather eager to push Charlie inside of her own Hotel and walk in after; Quickly shutting the door as though there was someone outside waiting and stalking him, watching him with all their attention. "Hey no, you cannot just let yourself in here this isn't Heaven!" Vaggie was swift to march her way over to the two, seeing as Charlie wasn't doing anything to discard of Adam she might as well do it herself! No way was she going to let some two-timing exorcist angel not only push her girlfriend around yet also push his way into the hotel. Who did he think he is? And yet Charlie waved out a hand, stopping Vaggie in her tracks. There was confusion, and the two at the bar would turn their heads, before scowling seeing the fallen angel. Adam was sure he could hear Angel's accented voice loud and clear shouting out, 'oh what the fuck is this bullshit!' before Charlie began to talk to him again in a rushed fashion; One he remembered quite well during the meeting that Lucifer subbed her in for instead of coming to it himself, and he was still annoyed by her voice. "What are you doing down here? I thought you-! You know . . . " Charlie rushed out, trying to make it quick as though the others at the hotel would jump and kill Adam again with no remorse, finishing the job that clearly didn't stay permeant the first time; And, honestly, Adam wouldn't put it above anyone here to do that. Adam, who had been picking at his teeth with his pinkie finger, would turn away from Charlie and shrug his shoulders, "Yeah, well, I fuckin' did and ended up down here for some fucking reason, probably a mistake and mix up of souls. I'm sure you have plenty of those down here, pft!- I mean who else would want to stay in this charity case!-" "We're not entertaining you Adam!" Vaggie would cut off the ex-angel, causing his interest to peak over at her. Though he relaxed quickly enough, maybe too quickly seeing as Vaggie had drown out her own weapon and that . . . nasty little creature stood beside her with the dagger made out of angelic metal; Now that little one-eyed demon could give Adam the creeps, maybe even a little (lot) fright, but not Vaggie. "You know, I thought were all trying to redeem souls in this junk box of yours." Adam scoffed, quickly crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. "Are you fucking discriminating against me wanting to return to where I rightfully belong just because I was an angel before this? Wow, that's a low blow, especially for someone light you." Adam's voice dripped with sarcasm mixed with malice, maybe even still a little pride. "You literally tried killing up like- 2 weeks ago!" Vaggie would gesture to the side, as though trying to compare time to the length of her arm. "Oh shit it's been too weeks?" Adam paused, thinking about it yet drawing a blank and shrugging in result, "Shit, didn't know, pft! That shit must still be fresh for you then, huh? Well, let me remind you all that you weren't the ones who DIED!-"

ᯓ "Adam?" Your voice would slip out into the common space of the lobby of the hotel, honey sweat to Adam's ears; Filling them with a melody that could match the songs of Heaven, running down his spine with the comfort he didn't know he needed until now. But even then, you knew he wouldn't break his 'tough man' exterior until you managed to snag him along, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. "Holy shit, hey Babe!" Adam was quick, rushing past and slightly pushing Charlie out of his way to make his way over to you, over to his love. "What the fuck are you doing in a dumb like this? I thought you said you had your own fucking spot near Cannibal Town!" - It had been the only reason why he had tried traveling to that cursed town, even while knowing its residents might try and take a bite out of him or his wings. He craved for the familiarity of someone in this new world, as he had never felt this vulnerable since his first days on Eden; Earth. God's Earth. "Babe?" A chorus of confused, slightly concerned, and baffled voices followed as Adam came to your side, swinging an arm around your waist and instantly drawing you closer. You swore he was fighting off the urge to flick off the others, a casual fuck you for trying to push him off and out. You could feel their eyes as you leaned up to pepper a kiss into Adam's shoulder, to which he squeezed your waist slightly tighter, adorning a snicker upon his face. "Wait, wait!-" Vaggie started, taking a staggering step forward as her arms laid limp besides her. One of her eyebrows were cocked up, her eyes narrow, "What do you mean Babe?" Your name left her lips, "Don't tell me you're dating that fucker!" She would soon exclaim, tossing her hands out as they finally regained the life they had lost. To which you would turn towards her confused, and then remember oh yeah . . . the battle. The one you hadn't been present for though heard about through Channel 666 News; In all honesty it's why you had came here, to the Hotel, to see if you could try and get to Heaven and find Adam again - praying he didn't actually die but was taken back to Heaven to heal or was revived in some way. "Uh, yeah. Adam's my boyfriend-" You would start with a wavering smile, nerves tugging at the edge of your lips. "Oh, this couldn't have gotten worse." Angel would groan, slamming his head down onto the bar countertop, acting like a disappointed parent; Silently telling you that you could have done better. To which you placed a hand on your hip, about to tell Angel off, only to be cut off by Husk tsking and shaking his head, "I would not put you as an Angel and sexist fucker, but whatever rows your boat." His tone came off dry, uninterested, and a little hostile. And with Charlie's silence, you couldn't help but feel the weight of everyone's words a little heavier.

ᯓ And Adam noticed that, with one glance down at you and your face, his wings would flare defensively and his glare was snapped back at the other demons. He couldn't care less that they had been talking shit about him, he couldn't care less on how they saw him or the reasons they thought you could do better than him; They shouldn't care about whether or not someone was out of their friend's league if they were clearly happy with the person! That, Adam knew - or maybe he believed it more. "Hey, what your fucking mouths!-" He would start, trying to draw you away from the others. Sure, he was no longer an Angel, but he was sure as hell he could take any of them in a fight anyways! And yet, his anger was snuffed like a candle as soon as you placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing in and pushing him back. The breath of ire was caught in his throat, not even being able to reach his lungs, as he glanced down at you, noticing the spark that you had seemingly stolen right out of his chest and placed in your eyes. He knew your reservations of fighting with friends, or with anyone in general, so he couldn't help but feel pride swell up in his chest watching you stand up for yourself, for you and him: "I will not let you speak about me, nor Adam that way!" You defended, shooting a star through your eyelashes that the group; Who seemed just as taken aback as Adam had been before the warmth spread from his chest. Vaggie would scrunch her face, much more concerned that irritated or disappointed, but also all of that at the same time. Your name slipped from her lips, "You can't be serious! He's . . ." She stumbled for a moment, trying to grasp her words, "He's led genocides on Sinners all over Hell! He's like really gross and he doesn't respect people. He's a douche and a dick!-" "Dick master," Adam would correct Vaggie just to piss her off, earning a slight jag in the gut from you and a snarl from Vaggie. Vaggie, who, tossed out her hands once more, yet pointed at Adam this time, "See what I mean?!"

ᯓ "And tell me how you felt when you first lost your divinity?"

ᯓ The question lingered in the room, drifting and sticking in the air, as Vaggie stared at you with disbelief; Her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, and her stance rigid. You noticed how Charlie grew nervous behind her, how she seemed rather uncomfortable in the atmosphere that been created in the room since Adam had arrived than you. She would place a hand on Vaggie's shoulders, attempting to comfort her, yet failed to pick out any words to say in response. "It's hard enough to leave somewhere you've called home," You would continue, frowning, "To be tossed out like you had meant nothing, like one mistake had deemed you unworthy despite everything great you have done in your life. Vaggie! . . . out of everyone, I would have thought at least you would understand something like that." Seeing as she had gone through the same process herself, yet had always had Charlie there by her side to walk through everything with. Was she implying that Adam didn't deserve the same because of what he had done? Sure it was crude and cruel, but everyone deserved another chance to mistake their wrongs and that was what this hotel was about; And you voiced such concerns to not just Vaggie but to Charlie as well. What makes Adam so much different from Lucifer, or say another Fallen Angel that managed to wind up down here? What makes him less worthy to be redeemed? What made him less of a human soul as say Angel or Alastor? Everyone fucks up in their life and as long as they're trying to better themselves, understanding what they did wrong and why it was wrong, they should be given a chance!

ᯓ It wasn't long before Charlie said that everyone should take a break, and as such you would lead Adam away from the crowd of people and up to your own room in the Hotel. You could feel Vaggie's eyes linger, you felt like she wanted to say something yet let her words fall short before they were ever given a chance. But, even if they had, you were too pent up to even discuss anything logically with her at the moment. And you think she could feel or at least tell and that's why her words fell short, yet you would never know - you're not Vaggie nor would you ever think like she does.

ᯓ You and Adam found yourselves in your bed after settling some matters, such as a change of clothing for him and whether or not you wanted to try and make the trip back to your apartment today; Luckily you had some of Adam's old T-shirts and joggers you had stolen from him from one of the few trips where Adam had snuck you into Heaven - and yet on the same note, either of you felt like going downstairs to face anyone to leave to your apartment. So, with not much to do, you set the TV on as background noise and brain fuzz as you snuggled up to Adam's side. You felt as his claws, at first, scratched gently at his side, pairing with a kiss on the forehead, and then they began to tap the flesh there; Like you were some little drum that made no noise, yet Adam continued until he switched to rubbing his thumb against your hip. "What's wrong, Adam?" Concern dripped from your lips, forcing Adam to draw his eyes away from the mindless television and down to meet you, and your eyes. He had known your attention had been up at him for a while, at first admiring his face (as you didn't get to see it much) yet it had shifted to concern the more he played with the plush flesh of your waist. He wondered if you could tell he was nervous from the start. Adam's eyes would falter and glance off to TV again, his words causing a lump in his throat as he tried to play through them; Trying to find the best combination to spew out instead of talking without thinking - vomiting whatever first came to mind and not thinking about it later. And maybe you could tell the trepidations that filled his head too; Seeing as you shifted your position from his side, pushing yourself up, and instead onto his lap, effectively blocking his vision of the television. Your hands rested on his chest, something so natural at this point yet something that still caused Adam's lungs to halt for a minute and for his stomach to flutter. Even so, he would give you a curious glance up and down, trancing the curves of your body with his eyes as he has done countless times before - yet every time, you managed to take his breath away. "If you wanted to fuck, babe, you could have just said so!" The snarky remark left his lips, meeting your amused yet disapproving face. He knew that's not what you wanted, yet he couldn't help but entertain yourself when you were basically straddling his waist; As such, his fingers would drag along the calf of your leg before his hands would trail up your thighs before tailing back down and up once more. He saw the flutter in your breath, yet you tried to keep your composure. Even if Adam was making it ever so hard.

ᯓ "Adam," You would start, your tone causing Adam to stop caressing your thighs. It stuck his eyes to yours, and he couldn't look away no matter how much his nerves pulled at him to. "I want you to know, no matter what happens . . . I'm here for you, okay? We're in this together. You're not a solo act anymore, we're a duet . . . or, well, more a duo act." Your words sunk down into Adam's skin, they infected through his lungs and ran to his heart before infecting all his blood and his veins. His hands, which had ran up to hold your waist, gave a gentle squeeze as he swallowed down the saliva that built up in his suddenly dry mouth. A duo act? Sure, he knew you two were dating, that you had been for a while, yet even then he had a silent thought in the back of his head that you would leave him, much like the others; So he never considered himself no more than what he had: A soloist. First Man Adam! . . . but now he was able to add being 'Yours' to his list with some sort of fire-like confidence; Burning and bright. It made his heart catch fire, even more so when you would stretch out lightly and lean down to lay down on his chest; Your warmth infecting all of him you touched, allowing his arms to wrap around your back and for his wings to fluff out and wrap around your frame. It was like he wanted to shield you from the world, shield you from Heaven, shield you from everyone and anything that wanted to hurt you. Sure he had the urge before, but now? . . . "You heard that big man?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, your teasing smirk had him fighting for a breath. You would playfully nudge his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, I'm stuck with you're, we're stuck together so you better be getting used to it! I'll fight for you, you fight for me, and we'll get back to that stupid place that outcasted you in the first place!" But he would like to stay here, with you, forever. "And we'll show Charlie and Vaggie that it can be done and that even if you fucked up you have a good heart in you! . . . Because I know you do under all the gunk." And your laughter had never sounded so sweet, and you touch has never felt so soft and loving.

ᯓ A duo act, huh? With you? Adam could get used to and stand behind that thought; Perhaps, even after all this time, he wanted nothing more than to hear those words, or well the meaning of those words, from your mouth since the start.

ᯓ But even then, with the emotions that swelled Adam's heart with nothing but pure love, he couldn't help but nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent filled his nose with a warmth he missed, the soft skin of your neck flushed against his smirking lips, a feeling he longed for and couldn't forget. You were perfect, you always had been! "Fuck, Babe, when you say pretty shit like that, it's hard not to fuck you right here and now." Adam would groan before a loud cackle left his lips as soon as you smacked his back. All too used to his ways, you couldn't do much yet shake your head against Adam's shoulder, like a parent scolding their child for saying something offensive. "You ruined the mood Adam!" The huff escaped your lips, it hit Adam's neck and made goosebumps spring up his arms. "Again!" And yet, you didn't protest as Adam tossed you both into your sides with a fever, still cackling as though this was the funniest joke in the world - and you couldn't deny, you loved the sound of his laughter so much. Even as his stubble would tickle your neck as he did so, causing you to start laughing soon after and trying to push his head away from your neck. "Adam! Oh my god, Adam stop that tickles!" You gasped between breaths, struggling to push your boyfriend away as he found joy in your lighthearted misery. Though he would only curl around your frame, not answering your desperate calls of a truce and a stop, and trap you in his arms and wings with no remorse. "You're stuck with me Babe, you said it yourself! Now come here, let me kiss that pretty fucking face of yours until you can't breath!"

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ashen-char · 6 months ago

Text

so unfair

ship: amber freeman (scream) x fem reader

warnings: mentions of sex and underage (at least in america, where it's 21) drinking/clubbing

summary: drunk you thinks the way amber takes care of you is unfair if she doesn't let you do the same.

word count: 1500+

notes: amber taking care of drunk fem reader, as requested here <3

Hazy. The club is a blur of neon lights and pounding bass - the smoke machine misting everything and messing up your field of vision. You can barely see in front of you. All that matters is Amber anyways. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, her perfume, and that sweet smoky haze that makes everything feel like a dream.

Each beat vibrates through the floor and into your bones. Bodies are everywhere, a sea of movement, pulsing and swaying like a single, living entity. Every sensation feels fuzzy. Everything except Amber and the way she moves with you. The way she feels as your hands slide along her body.

You've been downing shots without a second thought all night. Amber had warned you to slow down - this wasn't her house, where you two could get sloshed without any consequence except her parents scolding you about getting into the liquor cabinet again. But you were having too much fun. The liquid fire burning down your throat was sweet, and thinking of consequences seemed absurd when you were with her. With Amber, things just went right. Felt right.

Some stranger bumps against you, messing up your rhythm as you were swaying with her. No biggie, and you can barely hear their slew of apologies. A giggle pours out of you. "No, no, it's alright," you tell them.

You can barely get the words out before you hear "get your hands off my girlfriend" from behind you. Amber's arm goes around your waist and you're sure she's giving this poor club goer a death glare. She's good at that.

"Don't be like that, Ams, it's not like they shoved me," you defend.

Your cheeks are flushed, you can tell because everything feels hotter, and it's probably half the drink and half embarrassment as the stranger walks off terrified of your girlfriend. She doesn't have to do this every time. You can take care of yourself. So you tell her as much. Or try, at least, your words are all jumbled in your drunken exasperation.

Amber rolls her eyes. "Uh huh." Hands going on your hips, you feel yourself being ushered away from the crowd. And look, you don't hate having a pretty girl's hands all over you but you'd be okay if she was a little less protective. Just a bit.

"People dance. They get bumped into. It's fine. I'm fine!" To prove your point, you pull your hand back from how she's dragging you. You can walk for yourself, thank you very much, and can follow her just fine. "See, no broken bones."

The stairs down to the club's bathroom is a little tricky, so you cling to the railing, glaring when Amber wraps her arm around you instead. It's when she presses a kiss to your hair that you melt into her hold.

When Amber closes the bathroom door behind the two of you, the music is muffled. That fuzzy feeling remains, but it's quieter too. You see her grabbing wads of the toilet paper, cussing out the club for only having 'shitty one ply'. When Amber comes back over and tells you to get up onto the sink, you gasp.

"Here?" you ask, looking over to the door. Biting your lip, you weigh up the pros and cons of a bathroom quickie. "Someone could walk in..."

But oh well. You're up for some fun, especially when it involves your Amber. Leaning forward, you dig your thumbs into Amber's waistband, ready to tug it down and have at her. Mm. The taste of her on your tongue sounds even more delicious than the shots you downed, and you hope it'll go down as smoothly.

"God, you're a mess, babygirl." Amber sounds both exasperated and affectionate, both of which make you pout. Especially when she's grabbing your hands and taking them away from your attempts to unclothe her. "Not that I'm not flattered by the offer, but that can wait until later. Probably when you're more sober." Your pout deepens. It makes Amber laugh, and she kisses it away. "I'm just gonna clean you up. So get on there, now."

"Well, that's less fun," you whisper to yourself.

Palms on the sink countertop, you hike yourself up until you can sit comfortably. Curious eyes watch as Amber methodically wets a wad of tissues, dabbing it against your side, then does the same with a dry tissue. You didn't even realise that a drink had splashed on you when you bumped into someone. Whoops.

"Hanging with me isn't fun?" Amber asks. If you were sober, you could glean her sarcastic tone a mile away. But your mind's looser right now. Thinking less and saying more.

"I'm having a great time," you correct. "You know that. I have the most fun when I'm with you. Because of you."

"Uh huh."

She's cute when she's serious. Hell, she's cute all the time. Amber's got these pretty brown eyes that go all big and sweet only when she's looking at you. You, or some particularly gorey scene in whatever horror flick she's watching, but it's sweeter when it's you. Your drunk brain tells you that you should tell her.

"You're adorable."

"Yuck." Amber's nose scrunches up in distaste, because that's certainly not a word she'd like to associate with herself, but she's focusing on cleaning you up. She throws the tissues to the nearby bin before starting the process over again. "You sure you're not talking about yourself, cutie?"

Those eyes fix on yours. You think you could melt into a pile of goo when you're looking into them. That familiar fuzz from before intensifies, concentrating in your chest rather than your brain. Loving Amber can feel like radio static, like you have no words to say except for her name over and over. Your similes aren't even making any sense.

"Positive," you say, popping the 'p'. You grin when that makes her smile.

You wish sometimes that she could take the compliment as well as she dishes them out to you. You wish she'd see herself the way you do. Not as some tough protector whose only merit is to save you, but as Amber. Pure and simple. You wish she knew how cute and sweet she is in the simple moments, that she doesn't have to try so hard to keep your eyes on her. Maybe when you were sober enough to string those words and complicated feelings together.

When she's all done with wiping you off, and satisfied that your clothes won't stain or stink of alcohol, Amber helps you off of the counter. You let her pull you flush against her front, a sigh escaping your lips at the feel of her body holding yours. She smells good. And her chest is soft against yours. With the amount of shots coursing through your body, it's tempting to rest against her. Amber is your favourite pillow, be that in the afterglow after a satisfying hook up or in the peace of her cuddles.

"I wasn't pulling you into a hug, baby," she says, "I was trying to get you to the hand dryer."

"Oh." Amber's too comfortable for her own good. You squeeze her tight before letting go, just cause you can. "Yeah, I knew that."

Standing under the heat of the hand dryer, your girlfriend supporting your weight, you wonder what this night would've been like without her. You wouldn't have been as comfortable on the dance floor, you wouldn't have let yourself drink this much. You get playfully annoyed at her for it, but Amber's protectiveness is why you let yourself get so sloppy. Amber is the reason you can let go. You trust her.

You wonder if she trusts you too. She should. You'd do anything for her.

"I get to think you're cute if you think I'm cute." And-" a hiccup, "I get to take care of you if you take care of me."

Amber laughs. She thinks this is some random drunken thought. "What are you-"

"No, shhhh." Your finger comes up and presses against those full lips that you adore kissing. "Let me love you. Let me say this."

Amber sighs. "Alright, baby. Whatever you want." Her hand goes to your hip, thumb going to rub slow circles as she waits for your words.

You want to tell her that she doesn't have to tell strangers to back off because your eyes are only ever on her. You want to say that she can let go and have fun too, because you've got her back. That you cherish her. That she doesn't have to be tough all the time, not around you at least.

The hand dryer stops. You pat the once-wet spot on your clothes, satisfied at the dry feeling after Amber's efforts. When you look up, the words that were going to escape your mouth stop. She's so close, her eyes focused on you as she tucks a wayward strand behind your ear, finger grazing your skin so lightly. Amber takes such good care of you without even needing to be asked.

So you smile, and instead you say "thank you, Ams" and "I'll take care of you too, when you need me."

"I already knew that, baby."

Amber lays a kiss on your lips and it tastes better than any alcohol.

#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #scream #mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #requested

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mashiraostail · 5 months ago

Note

Plleeassee 'you can sit on my lap' with Halsin PLEASEEE

ur wish is my command I did SFW bc it felt right but lemme no if u want different :3

It was always the same, which was sort of what annoyed you. It's not that your day to day fights had been particularly hard it was just the constant bumps and scrapes and bruises that weighed you down. Never enough damage to justify wasting healing magic, but just enough that you were uncomfortable in your day to day. You left some wounds to heal even once you're back at camp, preferring to let the others get fixed up before you. Today you could feel the itchy irritation of a cut healing over, right across the bridge of your nose. It was a constant bother, like a bug flying around your face, a tickle that would not subside no matter which way you scrunched your nose up.

"This city air isn't doing anything for me either." You feel Halsin's hand come down on your shoulder, heavy and warm. For a moment you were confused, you'd not complained at all since setting off for the day, then you realized your discomfort may be less subtle than you thought.

"Oh..." You wave, "who am I to complain?" You did enjoy Halsin, well perhaps more than enjoy.... given your late night trysts. Though he was still unfamiliar to you in some ways, and lacking a formal name for what the two of you shared often left you uncertain in your day to day with him.

"Please, I think this city would benefit from some complaining." He looks down at you, "I thought I was the only one."

"No..no.." You resist the urge to peel the scab over the bridge of your nose away, you were certain you'd start gushing blood all over, which given your current location made no sense at all. It had actually been a rather tame day so far, and it was already almost over.

"I think even the most dedicated Baldurians have it in them to complain about the smell from time to time." You give in, and start to chip away at the corner of the scab closest to your tear duct.

Halsin just laughs, "I see, well I suppose it's good to know I'm not alone..." He removes his hand from your shoulder and looks around a bit as you walk, though he stays close to you.

You can't help but hiss at the feeling of your skin peeling back, beyond the first wound, you supposed that was karma for picking it.

"Are you alright?" Halsin turns over his shoulder at you, "I heard you-" He looks down at your hand by your nose, "leave that alone." He bats your hand away, "you should have let me clean it up days ago, see now? You've made it worse."

"It's itchy." You rub the bridge of your nose for emphasis, "and I can't help it. I've always picked at my scabs, where do you think all these cool scars came from?"

"I can't say I doubt that. But still, this city is dirty, it's best to not bare an open wound to this kind of air." He procures a small cloth and dabs at the blood as it appears, "it's good you didn't peel open this whole thing, and it's a wonder you've not complained till now."

You can't help but flush at the attention, if anyone with you notices they spare you, "I'm alright, I've dealt with much worse."

"I'm sure you have, but there's no need with me around.... To tell you the truth," He dabs the small cloth with his tongue and wipes the dirt and grime away from the edges of the newly opened flesh, "I enjoy doting on you."

You look down at your boots to avoid looking at him, you can feel your ears burning.

"It's hard to see the damage out here, do you think you can hold out till we set up camp for the day?"

"Of course-" You swallow your embarrassment, "I'm okay like this, I'll live."

"Oh I hope so." Halsin is smiling at you, "who knows what I would do otherwise." He hands you the cloth, "keep this, incase it bleeds anymore."

"Thank you." You look up at him, "you've been a big help."

"Don't thank me, just.." He guides your hand holding the cloth up to your nose, and uses it to cover the wound, "keep it clean until we settle in for the night." You can only nod up at him.

True to your word you do keep your wound covered in the cloth for the rest of your journey that day. It was a long one, boring too. As much as the little battles left you irate, a boring day of gathering information and talking to every no name on the street was equally irksome.

When you get back to camp Halsin seems busy with Gale, who despite his best efforts is always the most banged up by the end of the day. You almost feel bad for him, until you see him bright and pristine every morning. So you sit by the fire, content on sharpening a stick into some sort of miniature spear, humming to yourself.

When Halsin finds you all of the dark bark has been scraped off the stick leaving it white and brittle looking.

"You hide in plain sight you know?" He offers you a hand and you take it, allowing him to hoist you up to your feet.

"It's one of my many talents." You toss the sharpened stick down, "how's Gale?"

"He's fine, I apologize, I should have come to you first."

"No," You laugh, "I'm sure he needed it more than me. You're here now."

"I am." He smiles at that, wider than you'd ever previously given yourself credit for, "come, let me see." He waves you closer and leans down toward you.

Once you've closed most of the gap you feel his eyes wander beyond the gash over your nose, down to your neck and collarbones, all to way to your wrists.

"Now that we're close like this...when was the last time you've been healed? Has Jaheria been taking up the job in my stead?" He seems almost offended at the thought.

"No-" You shake your head, "No, I've been mostly alright."

"Alright? You're practically covered in cuts and bruises- let's go someplace more private, you should have a once over." He guides you with a hand sprawled out between your shoulder blades, not leaving room for protest.

"You should have come to me sooner." He breaks the silence once you're away from camp, surrounded by trees and brush.

"You're always helping the others, I'm used to this, I'd rather they get what they need." You insist, gesturing vaguely to yourself.

"You can all have what you need." Halsin seems perplexed, "there's more than enough healing magic to go around, you don't have to worry about that."

"well it must be exhausting, constantly casting spells, you're always taking care of the others, what about you?"

"What about me?" Halsin tilts his head at you quizzically, "I'm alright too."

"Well who takes care of you?"

"When you live as long as I have," He starts tending to some of the smaller cuts on your arms, "you learn to take care of yourself. It comes with time."

"That's not fair." You frown, "everyone relies on you. It must be a heavy weight, especially with no one to lean on, or to rely on to care for you."

"You." Halsin sits on an old stump, "I have you. We care for each other....unless I'm mistaken."

"You're not." You allow him to turn you around, inspect you every which way for any major damage left untended.

"Good. Come here." He waves you into him but you stand, flushed and confused before him.

"Here." He gestures again, "you can sit in my lap."

Nervously you do, slotting yourself against him. It hadn't been many times but you'd sought his company before, and the feeling of his large hand cupped around you thigh was welcome, almost calming. It doesn't take very much magic at all to get you right again, and you're glad to accept it, at this point the constant discomfort was bordering on pain.

"You must be exhausted, they were small injuries but they were plenty, it must have worn on you." His hand spreads over the small of your back, "I meant what I said before." On his lap it's much easier for him to rest his head against your chest, you feel his hair tickling the side of your neck as he does.

"I enjoy caring for you, perhaps it's self serving, but please allow me the pleasure of it more often."

"I wasn't sure-" You flush at the sudden tenderness, it wasn't brand new, nor was it unwelcome, but it was still fresh, still took getting used to. "I didn't want to burden you."

"Be sure now." He picks his head up, "you're more than asset to hinder or help me me.... and certainly more than a friend." He spares a glance down to your hand, where it has wrapped around his bicep. "Don't be modest, when you ask for me, I'm happy to go to you. If I can bring you any comfort on the road ahead, then I'd be honored to."

"Thank you, Halsin." You rest your hand on the side of his neck and he hums at the feeling, glancing between your bodies then back to your face.

"You don't need to thank me," His hand slides along the divot of your spine, a soft touch made firm by the rough skin of his palms, "just come to me, whenever you need, even when you don't need to, but only want to. I do miss you after our nights together. I'd take comfort in knowing you feel the same."

"I do.." You nod, "I just hate to steal you away when the others-"

"Steal me away all you like," He laughs, "Gods, that sounds heavenly. I'm sure the others can manage a few hours." He kisses you for the first time that day. Which wasn't unusual, often he waited for more private moments to voice and show his affections, it was welcome and warm and you were glad to be on the receiving end of his affections.

"And knowing you feel the same is all the better." He wraps his arms around you in a bear hug perfectly fitting of the man giving it.

"I'm grateful to have spent this time enjoying you." He takes a deep breath, like he's trying to get as much of your scent as possible.

"Can we stay for a bit? Like this?" You pull back and pin away a stray strand of his hair, his chest huffs with a light airy chuckle as he nods.

"Of course, but you'll have to tear me away when you're done. I fear I won't want to go anywhere once I've settled down with you on me like this."

He resumes his bear hugging and despite the tightness of the hug, and the closeness of your bodies you don't feel cramped at all.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #halsin #halsin bg3

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totaly-obsessed · 9 months ago

Text

Big Shoes to fill

Leah Williamson x reader request

pt. 1 here

-> Leah invites her struggling sister to live with her in London, where they support each other through healing and new friendships.

-> A very late pt.2. Please let me know what you think of it! If ya'll are interested I could make a pt.3 of reader meeting the team.

-> Just tagging you guys because you asked for a pt.2 in the comments of pt.1: @the-nameless-queen, @the-hottest-avenger-loves-soccer, @abcdefghijklmmopkrstuvwxyz

-> also a very big thank you to @alotofpockets and @greynatomy who read over it for me and helped with ideas - much love!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Leah sat there, stunned by the weight of her sister's words. She had always known that things weren't easy for you, but she never imagined the extent of the struggles you faced. The guilt of not being there for her little sister when she needed her the most washed over the footballer like a tidal wave.

"I'm so sorry, Bug," Leah whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were going through all of this alone."

You shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, ignoring the shame that showed in the redness of your face. "It's okay, Lee. I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

Leah shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "No, it's not okay. I should have been there for you. I should have noticed. I'm supposed to be your big sister, for God's sake."

You reached out and took Leah's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're here now, that's what matters."

Leah sniffled, trying to compose herself. "I promise, things are going to change. I'll talk to Mom and Dad, and we'll figure this out together."

You managed a small smile, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. "Thanks, Lee. "I appreciate it."

Leah pulled you into a tight hug, holding onto you as if she never wanted to let go. "I love you, Bug. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And in that moment, as the rain continued to fall outside, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn't have to face them alone. With Leah by your side, you felt stronger than ever before. And together, you were ready to take on whatever life threw your way.

When she was back in London and your parents were home again, Leah couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily on her shoulders. She knew she couldn't let her sister continue to struggle alone, not when she finally understood the depth of your pain. After numerous conversations with her parents, Leah made a decision.

"Bug, I want you to come live with me in London," Leah said one evening when you were staying with her after watching an Arsenal game, her voice filled with determination.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such a sudden idea. "But what about Mom and Dad? Won't they be worried?"

Leah shook her head. "They understand, they want what's best for you, and right now, that means being with someone who can support you fully."

A mixture of emotions washed over you, uncertainty mingled with relief. The thought of leaving your childhood home was daunting, but the prospect of starting fresh in a new environment with your sister by your side was undeniably appealing.

"I don't know, Leah. What about your life here? Your career?" you asked, concerned about uprooting your sister's life for your sake.

Leah smiled reassuringly. "My career doesn’t need to stop. You're my family, and family comes first. Plus, I could use some company in this big old house of mine."

Unbeknownst to you, she actually wasn’t all that alone in her house, a certain brunette spent most of her time there as well.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the depth of Leah's love and sacrifice for you. "Thank you, Leah. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Leah pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you close. "You'll never have to find out, Bug. We're in this together."

And so, with the support of your parents and the unwavering love of your sister, you packed your bags and prepared to embark on a new chapter in London. As you looked out the window of the car, watching the familiar scenery of your hometown fade into the distance, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead with your sister by your side.

Things were finally looking up.

—

Leah steered her car through the familiar streets of London, eventually turning onto a quieter road lined with rows of cozy houses. The neighborhood exuded a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the bustling city center. As Leah parked the car in the driveway of her quaint home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, you stretched your limbs and took in the familiar surroundings. Leah's house, though not extravagant, emanated a sense of warmth and comfort that immediately put you at ease. The exterior was adorned with climbing ivy and cheerful flower beds, adding a touch of charm to the neighborhood.

With your bags in hand, you followed Leah up the front steps and through the front door. The air inside was filled with the comforting scent of your sister and well-loved furniture that you remember from her old room. The living room greeted you with plush couches arranged around a cozy fireplace, inviting you to sink into their embrace.

It’s surprisingly tidy here, but you could make out two empty cups on the coffee table, an arsenal sweatshirt with a 13 on it, and so many sneakers by the door, that they couldn’t just be Leah’s.

"Here we are," Leah said, turning to you with a smile. "Home sweet home."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of gratitude for the familiar surroundings. "It's perfect, Leah. Thank you for inviting me."

Leah's smile widened as she led you through the house, showing you to your temporary room. The space was simple but inviting, with a comfortable bed and a large window overlooking the lush backyard. Of course, a little goal was set up. Was this even Leah’s home if there was no goal?

—

The first day with Leah was a whirlwind of emotions and new experiences. As you woke up in her cozy home, sunlight filtering through the curtains, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the warmth and comfort of your surroundings. This felt more like home than the place you had grown up in.

Downstairs, Leah greeted you with a warm smile and a hearty breakfast (the only thing she was confidently able to make), eager to show you around her neighborhood and introduce you to her favorite spots. Together, you explored the quaint streets, stopping to chat with neighbors and browse through local shops before getting a snack in a quaint little café.

With a “Lia always takes the croissant, they’re good.”, you had been convinced easily enough. And the Swiss was correct, the croissants were indeed very good.

Throughout the day, Leah made sure you felt right at home, regaling you with stories from her own adventures in the city and sharing her favorite memories of growing up together. With each passing hour, you felt more and more at ease in your sister’s company, grateful for her unwavering support and understanding.

As the day drew to a close, you found yourself curled up on the couch with Leah, sipping hot tea and sharing laughs over stories of her teammates. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your sister, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But it would not be life if things didn't get worse again.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself slipping deeper into the shadows of your own mind. Despite Leah's best efforts to create a loving and supportive environment, the wounds from your past continued to fester, leaving you feeling lost and alone.

Trauma and abandonment issues weighed heavily on your soul, casting a dark shadow over even the brightest moments you shared with your sister. The memories of being ostracized and bullied at school haunted you, triggering waves of anxiety and self-doubt that seemed impossible to overcome.

Leah watched with a heavy heart as you retreated further into yourself, the light in your eyes dimming with each passing day. She tried to offer words of comfort and encouragement, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost in the endless void of your pain.

It hurts to see you suffer, not knowing how to help. So she chose to confront you after talking to Lia in depth about it, not knowing what to do. She ended up seeking a conversation on how to change things, on how to help you. Together, you found a therapist who specializes in childhood trauma and abandonment issues, hoping that they could provide you with the support and guidance you so desperately needed.

As you began your journey towards healing, your sister remained by your side every step of the way, offering a steady hand to hold onto in the darkest of times. Slowly but surely, you started to unravel the tangled web of emotions that had ensnared your heart, finding solace in the love and support of your family.

—

When the new school year started you were deemed well enough to start at the new school. Leah had asked if you wanted to do online school instead, but both your therapist and you didn’t think that to be a good idea.

The transition to a new school was daunting and filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You couldn't shake the memories of past experiences, the taunts and jeers of classmates echoing in your mind like a cruel refrain. But as you stepped into the halls of your new school, you were met with a surprising kindness that took you off guard.

The kids here were different. They didn't make fun of you or hurl insults your way. Instead, they greeted you with smiles and open arms, eager to welcome you into their midst. It was a stark contrast to the hostile environment you had grown accustomed to, and it filled you with a sense of relief and gratitude.

As time went by, you found yourself slowly but surely coming out of your shell, emboldened by the kindness and acceptance of your peers. You made new friends, shared laughs, and discovered a sense of belonging that you had never known before.

Leah watched with pride as you flourished in your new environment, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of your radiant smile. She knew that the road ahead would still be challenging, filled with ups and downs, but she also knew that you were strong enough to face whatever came your way.

When one day you came home telling her all about two new girls you met, she was so ecstatic that she couldn’t help but cry about it to the Swiss brunette who had a permanent spot at your dinner table. The blonde had refrained from taking you to training as of now, leaving you space to breathe and be alone. With that you couldn’t just call Kyra and Alessia your friends and call it a day, you needed your own.

—

After spending weeks bonding with Charlie and Mia, you couldn't wait to introduce them to your sister Leah. One afternoon, you invited them over to Leah's house for a casual hangout, eager to share your newfound friendships with her.

As Charlie and Mia arrived at Leah's doorstep, you greeted them with a smile and led them inside. Leah welcomed them warmly, offering snacks (that you had made) and drinks as the four of you settled into the cozy living room. They wanted to get to know the sister you couldn’t shut up about.

You watched nervously as Charlie and Mia chatted with Leah, hoping that they would hit it off. To your relief, the conversation flowed easily, with laughter filling the room as they exchanged stories and shared jokes.

"So, how did you two meet?" your sister asked, her eyes flickering between them.

Charlie, a vibrant and outgoing girl, grinned and began the story. "Well, Mia and I actually met in our science class. We were paired up for a project, and the rest is history."

Mia nodded, chiming in, "Yeah, Charlie swooped in to save the day when I accidentally mixed up my chemicals. She's been my lab partner and best friend ever since."

Leah chuckled, nodding in understanding. "It sounds like you two make a great team."

You couldn't help but jump in, eager to share your own thoughts. "They really do. Charlie and Mia have been amazing friends to me since I started at this new school."

Leah's eyes softened as she turned her attention to you. "That's wonderful to hear, Bug. I'm so glad you've found some great friends."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for your sister's support, and thanks to your therapy, you were not afraid to tell them. "Yeah, they've been really supportive. And it's nice to have them here with you."

Leah smiled, her gaze shifting between the three of you. "Well, you're all welcome here anytime. It's nice to see you so happy, Bug."

—

A couple of days later Leah came home from training to you making dinner in the kitchen. Instead of sitting down or waiting she stood in the doorway joking about your apron. Conversation in the middle of doing something was always the best.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly among you, Leah's eyes sparkled with an idea. "You know, Bug, my teammates have been asking about you. They've heard so much about my little sister and they're dying to meet you."

Your heart skipped a beat at Leah's suggestion. Meeting Leah's teammates felt like a significant step, a symbol of how far you'd come since arriving in London. The thought both excited and intimidated you.

Leah must have noticed the mix of emotions flickering across your face because she quickly added, "But only if you're comfortable with it. I don't want to pressure you into anything."

She knew that you had talked to most of them before. But it had always been brief and at the side of the pitch, signing a shirt for you and taking a picture. Aside from Lia, who had been at the house just the evening prior.

You took a moment to consider Leah's offer, the warmth of her support comforting you. With a newfound sense of confidence, you nodded eagerly. "I'd love to meet them, Leah. It sounds like fun."

Leah's smile widened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. "Great! I'll arrange a get-together with the team. I know they'll love you just as much as I do."

Meeting her teammates felt like the next natural step in your journey of growth and self-discovery, and you were ready to embrace it with open arms.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #woso community #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

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ln444 · 11 months ago

Text

santa doesn't know you like i do. . .

kinda part 2 of this

cw: spiderman!lando, fluff fluff fluff, mentions of food.

now playing: santa doesn't know you like i do by sabrina carpenter & winter time by sabrina claudio

note: happy holidays everyone ! <3 here's my gift for you, enjoy! :D

______________________________________________

lando being late didn't really faze you anymore; after all, he was spider man, and that came with a genuine excuse. however, tonight was christmas eve, and lando has promised to spend the day with you. it was already 11 am, yet there was no sign of lando. you checked the news multiple times to see if any villains required his attention, but there was nothing. sitting in front of your phone, you debated whether to call him. perhaps he was caught up in something or even sleeping; you couldn't blame him, you see everyday how being spider-man affect him physically and mentally and it's not easy. still, the disappointment lingered, especially since it was your first christmas with him.

lando checked the clock in the small, crowded coffee shop, tapping his foot impatiently and cursing under his breath. thirty minutes had passed, and he was finally nearing the front of the line, letting out a sigh of relief. unable to text you because his phone had died –a common occurrence thanks to his absent-minded self with a perpetually uncharged phone- he continues to wait, his mind torturing him with the thoughts of you waiting for him, and his anticipation grows as the scent of fresh coffee surrounded him.

after what felt like an eternity, lando finally slips back into his spider-man suit, swinging his way back to the city. his mind is clouded with negative thoughts, weighed down by the guilt of being late on such a special day. this time, he didn't really have an excuse. he had spent a good hour attempting to wrap your present earlier that morning, followed by another hour swinging to get your favorite cakes from out of town, that you mentioned a few weeks ago. the thing is, he didn't expect the place to be so popular on christmas days. he blames himself for not waking up earlier or considering watching wrapping tutorials on youtube in advance, to avoid wasting precious time trying to do it all by himself.

his heart tightened at the thought of you sitting alone in your decorated apartment –the cozy space you both had adorned together just a few weeks ago. memories flooded his mind, recalling how he got easily distracted by you every time you needed his help. eventually, it resulted in both of you sharing kisses amidst the decorations on the floor, finishing late at night. with these thoughts filling his mind, lando couldn't help but wear a smile as he swung faster, his heart beating with excitement to see you.

with his backpack loaded with the gift he got for you –and that he spent most of his morning wrapping– and one hand tightly gripping the box of your favorite cakes, lando swung as fast as he could. he was determined not to ruin the cakes, not after everything he went through. most importantly, he didn't want to disappoint you. the thought of your smile when you open the box keeps him grinning as he fly through the city.

feeling a bit down, you decide to call lando around 11:30 am, but it goes straight to voicemail. frustrated, you toss your phone on the sofa and slump onto it. gazing out the window, you hope to spot a sudden spider-man at your window but a delightful surprise awaits. instead, you found a breathless lando, adorned in an ugly christmas sweater, that matches yours –you both made a pact to wear one today–, standing outside with messy hair, braving the cold breeze. opening the window in a hurry, you're about to voice your thoughts, but lando silences you with a warm, unexpected kiss. despite your annoyance, you find yourself kissing him back.

"well, hello to you too," you scoff as you pull away, observing lando entering the room. he closes the window behind him, and you stand there with your arms crossed, lifting an eyebrow. you examine his face; his nose and cheeks turned pink because of the cold and his eyes was slightly watery because of the wind, making it hard for you to fight the urge to wrap him in your arms.

"i... baby, i'm sorry. i can explain!" he looks like a lost puppy and your heart was about to explode. you find yourself already forgetting why you're mad just by the sight.

"look!" he pulls out a box, and it doesn't take you much to recognize the logo of your favorite coffee shop. your expression softens immediately as you gaze at the boy in front of you, who wears an apologetic smile.

"lando... are you insane? how did you manage to get this?" you take the box from his hands, your fingers eager to open it to verify if it's exactly what you think it is.

"i went to that coffee shop you mentioned, that's why i'm late. i'm sorry," lando explains, and you place the box on the table, your attention now focused on him. your hands slide around his neck as you get a closer look at his face, making your heart soften. your fingers gently caresses his hair as lando's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, and he almost sighs at the warmth of your body against his cold one. "you remembered," you whisper close to his lips, your eyes drowning in his, and his smile widens. "of course," he replies simply, pulling you into a soft and warm kiss.

"i hate you," you whimper, and lando raises an eyebrow, confused. "you make it so hard to be mad at you," lando chuckles, pecking your lips. "you have every right to be mad at me, baby," he says softly, and you use all the strength you have to fight the growing smile on your face. "you know what it means, right? no more kisses for you..."

"what? never mind, you're not allowed to be mad me," he pouts, and you giggle, pulling him for another kiss. "well, you're excused for this time, just because you brought me cake," you pull away from his embrace and lando softly whines, feeling cold again.

you take the box in your hands, placing it on the small table as he eases off his backpack. pulling out the present from it, his eyes wandering to the christmas tree adorned with festive lights. a proud smile graces his lips, but it transforms into a heartwarming glow as he notices a present beneath the tree –his present, thoughtfully placed by you. his heart swells with gratitude and affection.

"wow, looks like you have better wrapping skills than me," you playfully comment from behind, drawing him out of his reverie. lando chuckles, recalling the earlier events of the day. settling beside you on the sofa, he envelops you in his arm. "oh, i forgot to mention that i spent a good hour wrapping it this morning, thanks to youtube," he laughs and your eyebrow arches in mock accusation. "so, you're a cheater!" he pulls you closer, both of you sharing a lighthearted laugh.

"let's just eat the cakes, please. i want to erase that traumatic moment," he whines, and you giggle, placing the box on your lap. as you share your thoughts on each cake, lando's attention wavers. lost in the light of your eyes, he finds himself enchanted by the simple joy your bring to the moment. the warmth of your laughter and the sparkle in your eyes makes the moment unforgettable for him. it's moments like these that become some of lando's fondest memories, wrapped in the comfort of your company. the way you can make every single little things so interesting always fascinate him.

you turn to him, a spoonful of cake in hand, bringing it towards his mouth. a smile naturally graces his lips as he opens his mouth to accept the bite. lando doesn't miss the way your eyes gleam with a mix of excitement and impatience, and he can feel his heart warming. playfully, he draws out the moment, savoring the anticipation in your eyes, earning a playful eye-roll from you. finally, he takes a real taste, and the widening of his eyes sends a momentary wave of worry through you, concerned that he might not like it.

lando's smile widens as he observes your reaction, earning a playful slap on his thigh. "so ? do you like it?" a hint of impatience can be heard in your voice and he takes the chance to tease you about it, responding with a small kiss on your neck, sending shiver through you; "so impatient, princess," he whispers playfully and your cheeks heat, which he doesn't miss either, only deepening his grin. "no but seriously, it's the best cake i ever taste," he sincerely says and a warm glow of joy fills you. as he pulls you closer, his eyes locked onto yours, and you exchange a gentle smile.

"maybe we should go there next christmas," he casually mentions and the idea of spending another christmas with him makes your stomach flutter. "i mean, in a car, of course," he adds with a laugh and you can't help but join him, quickly pecking his lips "i would love that."

you chose to spend the day in your apartment immersing yourselves in silly christmas movies –that you take way too seriously than you should– and sharing joyous memories of holidays past. the warmth and fullness in your hearts become a precious imprint, each second spent together etched into your minds forever.

in those sweet moments, lando felt at ease just being himself around you. the chaos of superhero life fading, and you presence became a comforting escape. with you, he didn't need to be perfect or carry the superhero burden. it was a simple, special connection where he could be lando, unmasked and genuine. he realized that the past months spent by your side made him a better person in so many ways.

lost in his thoughts, he didn't catch your question or the way you patiently waited for his response while he's dumbly staring at you. "lando! are you even listening ?" you whine and, to be honest, lando did not listen, too captivated in the depth of your eyes.

he doesn't bother responding, surprising you with a kiss that feels entirely different from any you've shared before. it's like lando is trying to convey something. the kiss is filled with an overwhelming amount of love and affection, making your heart threaten to burst out of your chest. it takes a moment for you to gather yourself and reciprocate, getting lost in the rush of emotions filling your body.

lando doesn't pull back after a minute like he always does. instead, he draws you even closer, your two bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. his tongue meets yours, initiating a dance in perfect harmony.

both of your cheeks were burning, like two teenagers sharing their first kiss. in that moment, it felt as if it was just the two of you in the whole world. lando never felt so loved and complete.

"i'm so in love with you, i think i might go crazy," lando blurts out, caught in the passionate moment you're sharing. the words lingers in the air, both of you breathless from the intensity of the kiss. his eyes reveal a mix of nerves and sincerity, and your heart races with a whirlwind of emotions, making it harder for you to catch your breath. the warmth of the embrace deepens the impact of his words, making it hard for you to think straight. lando's cheeks are burning and he mentally curses himself, blaming himself for always talking without thinking twice.

in response to lando's heartfelt confession, you tenderly stroke his warm cheek, your voice carrying the sweetest tone. "oh, lando... i'm crazy in love with you," your whispered words against his lips feel like an intimate secret shared between the two of you. your words leaves lando in awe, his mind momentarily blank, and he can't help but pull you into another kiss, drowning in the depth of the emotions exchanged.

as the soft glow of christmas illuminates your cozy apartment, you and lando find yourselves lost in each other's arms. with every shared kiss, you both savor the warmth of the holiday and the special connection makes this christmas unforgettable. in the embrace of each other, you discover that loving each other is the greatest gift, and you find yourself already excited to spend next christmas –and maybe the next one, and so on– together.

______________________________________________

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 drabble #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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starsomens · 9 months ago

Note

All I ask is something soft and domestic with dad Noah just pure fluff please and thank you 🖤

Note: all you had to say, was dad , Noah, and I dive in right away

'waaaahhhhhhhh'

"mmmm...." you groggily sit up in bed to the sound of your baby crying only about 2 1/2 hours from the last time, so now it was 5:58 am. This wasn't something you were used to. Keaton was born about a week ago and you were released from the hospital about 3 days ago. There were some complications, but nothing too serious. Eden was adjusting to the new baby as well, sometimes waking up along with the cries. Just as you did with Eden, he would sleep in the same room as you and Noah.

"Okay bud, what's wrong," you pick him up as his cries stop just a bit, reduced down to whimpers and soft whines. You check his diaper and he definitely needed a change. You were about to scoot over to the side of the bed to get up but you were stopped. Noah's hand weighed down on your hip just a bit, enough to get you to stop

"I got him babe," he said sitting up

"no, Noah I've got him" you said rocking him with a slight yawn "You got up the last time," He gets up from the bed and comes over to your side of the bed

"And I have this time too, come on Kea," he takes the baby from your arms and lets him rest against his chest "What I need you to do is rest," he points his finger at your sternly. Now the complication at the hospital was you, you had decided to take the epidural just to endure the pain better. However it did not wear off as soon as you had hoped it would. It took an extra day just for you to get some sensation back, and half of the next day to feel stable walking. By now, you're back to walking normally

"Well, it's already 6 so I'll get up with you," he opened his mouth to say something but stopped once you stood up and turned on your lamp. Once you were up there was no stopping you. You both walk down the hall carefully with Keaton to the nursery. While Noah changed him, you went over to Eden's room to check on her and make sure she was still asleep. She had another hour and half before she had to get up to get ready for school. She was still sleeping which was good. You go back to where Noah was, Keaton was changed and you had planned on feeding him to put him back down to sleep

"Did you pump anything princess?" Noah asks as walks to the kitchen and into the freezer

"I should have last night, but I can feed him Noa-"

"Go and get in the shower, relax and I'll feed him okay?" he said in a more demanding tone than an offer. At times Noah was a bit firm with you and would tell you to do things, but in the sense that he cares. Like right now, he knows you like getting a nice warm shower in the morning to wake you up. He isn't asking or offering, he wants you to go and shower, relax, get into some clothes and he's watch over the baby. You place your hand on you hips and just look at him with a chuckle.

"Okay, okay I give," you kiss his lips and lay a kiss to Keaton's head "thank you moon"

"of course mama, not get your pretty self in the shower"

You were convinced that you had married an angel. He was a great husband and father, just anything and everything you could have ever wanted. You take about 10 minutes to shower, 5 to brush your teeth and another 5 to get ready. You go back down stairs to check on Noah and Keaton. Keaton was asleep in his rocker while Noah was starting on breakfast. You come and hug his back

"Mmm thank you love," he say kissing his shoulder blade, he just hums and serves 2 plates of eggs and pancakes.

"While I take Eden to school could you call the docotor and make sure the appointment is still set up for next week?” He nodded his head as he chews his food

“You sure you wanna take her, I can do it and you can stay with Keaton,” he offers. Even though he knew that you like to be independent and get your own things done and contribute, he wants you to rest as much as possible. He knew how much of a toll this delivery had taken on your body. He just wanted you to get back to feeling normal. But that tends to blend in with him wanting to keep you on bedrest 24/7. But he knew you wanted to get back to your normal routine

“I’ve got it babes, thank you though” looking over at the clock, it read 7:15. You stand with your plate and put it in the sink “thank you for breakfast handsome” you kiss him deeply this time. His hand coming up to your hip and squeezing the skin just a bit

“Of course, you deserve this and more. I’ll go and get Eden ready while you get her lunch”

You give him a smile and another kiss before he gets up from the table to go and get your daughter ready for the day. Going into her room he turns on her lamp to the dentist setting to get her up. He crashes down next to her small bed and gently her awake.

“Come on princess, time for school” he says, in a gentle tone

“Mmm, school?” She responded stretching in her bed

“Yup, it’s Wednesday pretty girl, 2 more days to go” eden sits in bed and rubs at her eyes, Noah grabs her fluffy bunny slippers and slips them all to her little feet. He gets her to the bathroom and gives her her small stepstool and brushes her hair out while she brushes her teeth. Just like her father, she tends to get some bed head whenever she had good rest. She was nearly his identical twin.

She had your eyes but his hair color and his freckles. She also had a mixture of your nose and his nose, but you were more than certain it was his nose. Don’t get started on the attitude, because little Miss Princess got the sass from her daddy. After brushing her teeth, Noah helps her to get an outfit and her hair done. Well Noah does her hair into two little braids he loves to give her affirmations

“You look so pretty with your braids princess. Do you want clips in your hair and no clips?” He asked

“Mmmm Clips!” he open a small jar full of clips and pics two heart-shaped ones to put in her hair. The smell on her face was what he loved about getting her ready in the morning. He knew he would be sending her off feeling good about herself, starting off day, right

They both come back downstairs and you had a small breakfast ready for Eden. She wasn’t the biggest fan of scrambled eggs so you made her some pancakes and some apple slices.

“Morning sweetheart,” you say, as you kiss her head as she hops onto her seat at the table “ do you want a ham and cheese sandwich or peanut butter and jelly today?”

She stuffed her face with pancakes, and then spoke “ ham and cheese” she muffled out making Noah giggle

“Chew and swallow, first sweetheart, then answer” he said his thumb wiped away some syrup on her cheek. After she was done eating, she hands her plate to you and run back to her room to get her shoes on. You smile as you watch her run up the stairs

“We Made a really cute kid” no smells as he comes behind you and rest his hands on your hips. His chin rests in the crook of your neck as his arms wrapped around your middle pulling close as his lips kissed the corner of your jaw. His act of affection, bringing back memories when you had both moved in together. That was well before Eden was even born. Made you how far you had come with him. Through all of the arguments, disagreements, tours, and there were a lot of people who doubted it would work. You were honestly thrilled to have proved them wrong . Noah held your face in his hands and gazed upon your features.

His thumbs brush the skin under your eyes into your cheekbones. He gives you another loving kiss, one that reminded you of the day you had gotten married. It was a bit scary how fast the years were flying past you

“Eewww” you hear Eden whine as she finds her parents sharing an intimate moment in the kitchen. All Noah to do is giggle and turn to her.

“Oh yeah? You think this is gross? Just wait till I get to you!” Her laughter echoes through the house as Noah races to her and catches her in his arms. He sprinkles her face with kisses and tickles her sides with his fingers.

“Daddy!” She giggles and squeals

“I got you now princess!” he continues to smother her with as much love as possible.

Motherhood was definitely not easy. It has its ups and downs, physically, mentally, and emotionally. But there was something about moans like these that really made everything worth it. Every ounce of pain, every teardrop, every hour of sleep. The man of your dreams be an outstanding father to your children was honestly the icing on top.

“ You all right you too we have to get you to school. We will continue this later when you get home.” You smile as you go and get in the middle only make you know grab you and include you in the smothering. “Okay okay! We’re going to be late let’s go E!” You giggle and jump when you were met with a tap to your ass

Looking over your shoulder you see him with a smug smile. You give him the look, knowing that you would get him later on in the day.

Looking over to the rocker, he sees Keaton starts to wake up, but not cry cry. Simply just looking up at his tree of a father.

“ Well looks like it’s gonna be you and me for a little kea,” he smiles as he goes to the infant to pick him up. His large hands carefully cradling the infant. As simplistic as it may, one of Noah’s favorite things was to hold his kids. Not only did he take part in creating something so beautiful and pure and innocent. Also able to see traces of himself and you in your kids.

Like with Keaton, he can already tell he would resemble you more than him. And it was one of his favorite things. having a smaller version of yourself was fun and great to see. But what was better was seeing a smaller version of the woman he loves dearly.

He brings the baby up to his face and nuzzles his nose with his Keaton, opening his mouth and search of a nipple to latch onto

It makes him chuckle with a wide grin “wrong parent Keaton, must have your mom’s appetite, huh?”

Holding Keaton against his chest with one hand, he goes over to the freezer where he grabs one of your pumped bags of milk. While it warmed up, Noah got the couch ready to feed Keaton. He grabbed a blanket, a towel, and a pillow you use whenever you feed him

He was starting to smack his lips and whine a bit, getting a little fussy for his meal. It honestly made Noah laugh to see how serious his baby was about his feeding times. And typically he was on schedule almost every single day. I have been trying to convince you that Keaton knows much more than you both think despite him being just a couple of days old.

The milk is ready took his shirt off got Keaton comfortable and made sure that the milk was at a safe temperature. No with Noah’s philosophy he preferred to feed Keaton that shirt on so that he had more skin to skin time with him. Aside from it, being absolutely adorable, and him being an absolute self-aware father. It was also one of the most attractive things he could do. Worry about the well-being of your child, and he does see him shirtless more often? You’ll talks that any day anytime!

“You know when we were in the hospital, I was honestly really worried about you and your mom. When they said that they were complications every possibility is going through my head. I didn’t know if I should’ve stayed with you or if I should’ve stayed with her. I wanted to stay both of you, but they took you to the nursery. I didn’t wanna leave your mom by herself,” often times when it was Noah’s turn to feed Keaton he would just have these conversations with him “ but you pulled through like a champ, and your mom? She is the strongest person you will ever know in your life. I know you don’t really understand what I’m saying right now, but I love you more than words can describe.”

All Keaton could do is just look up at his father as he sled on his milk. His innocent eyes could only wonder what his father was even talking about. One thing he was grateful for was that both of your kids had your eyes. He loved staring into your eyes. Any chance that he had gotten. Now he had three pairs to look at every day.

Keaton finished every drop of his small bottle and yawned and satisfaction. Noah adjust himself so that he was able to burp Keaton, gently patting his back until the gases make their way out

"Good job Kea, good job" a bit of spit up came and splat down on to his sweat and Noah just stared and chuckled "well, thank you for the reward for feeding you,"

Noah got up from his spot and get the clothe baby sling. He got Keaton into the sling and strapped him in snug and secure to his chest. In the mean time Noah picked up the house before you come back home. He finished any dishes, made the bed, and anything in the living room. After finishing up he took a seat on the couch to play some video games and of course just observe and admire Keaton.

Booping his nose every now and then, causing a small scrunch to come on his features. Grabbing his phone he took some pictures to send to the guys. He loved bombing them with cuteness and torturing them with the adorableness of your babies. in his words, this was his new hobby. Just as he sent the picture you walk back into the house.

"hey sexy mama," he smiles at you as you lock the door behind you

"Hey, you know you look good in spit up. It really sells the DILF part" you joke with him as you take a look around and notice the house was picked up "Noah-"

"Ah," he cuts you off "don't even say anything. Now get your beautiful ass over here and cuddle with us."

You kick off your shoes and walk to your husband and baby. You sit next to him and peck his lips. You rest your head on his shoulder and gaze at the baby you made together. You Gently stroke his delicate head and feel the soft hairs under your fingertips. And just like his father, he was definitely going to have a lot of hair.

"so like.....do you wanna have another-"

"We just had him!" Noah laughs trying not to be too loud

"I can't help it! He's just so...Ugh! adorable" you say into his shoulder. You then rest Your chin on his shoulder and doesn't gaze at him. you're honestly very lucky to say the least, to have a husband who has helped you as much as he has now. of course, many would say that this is the bare minimum, and it's nothing to celebrate, but you just wanted to tell him how grateful you were to have someone like him by your side through something like having two kids.

"Noah?" you call quietly

"Hm?"

"I....I love you and thank you for being here...with me," you smile sincerely "You're my best friend, my partner and my lover and my rock....I'm just so lucky." you gush at him fighting back the emotions

"You're thanking me?" he whispers back as he leans forward " Sunshine, you truly don't understand who you are to me and what you mean to me. I will give up everything I have in this world if it means I would be able to see you happy you're literally the love of my life And you've given me two other reasons to keep going and to keep bettering myself everyday" He kisses your nose and nuzzles your face with his gently basking in. the beautiful and intimate moment with you and Keaton. Once Eden gets home, he would be sure to gush to her about how important she was to him.

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @leneisdown @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @lma1986 @daylightlvrs @darling-millicent-aubrey @daylightlvrs @artificialbreezy

#bad omens #noah sebastian #star’s anons✨#bad omens cult #noahsebastian #badomens #bad omens band #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction

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letterstodixon · 25 days ago

Text

oldies station (pt. II)

modern au!

summary: Daryl has been avoiding his past as much as possible, but inevitably he runs into it again.

pairing: daryl dixon x f!reader

word count: 2373

warnings: a few cuss words. paragraphs in italics indicate flashbacks. not proofreading.

divider by @/saradika-graphics

a/n: as i said, i'm making this a mini series (for now), so the cliffhanger is completely intentional. thank you so much for the support on the first part, hope you enjoy this one as well! <3

taglist: @vaniniweenie

The typical sound of forks clanking against plates and voices could be heard in the room. Daryl looked around, his elbows resting on the table, while his fingers were intertwined, acting as a support for his chin. Somehow, some way, he felt comfortable and familiar with this situation. The Grimes family had come into his life by chance, and although it took him a while to get over the suspicion that they were not what they seemed, he confirmed that yes, they were that incredible. Then, he was introduced to their friends, and Daryl had been adopted as part of that group. Those weekend meetings were part of a routine, but that day, there were only the Grimes, Glenn and Maggie, and Carol with her daughter, Sophia. Some were missing at the table, but there would be a chance to repeat the moment next week.

"Earth to Daryl." A voice, which he recognized as Carol's, made him come out of his thoughts. Blinking a couple of times, he turned to look at her, sitting next to him, while everyone seemed to be watching him.

"What?" he asked, frowning slightly, as he shifted in his seat. He felt uncomfortable having all eyes on him.

"Carl asked if you could pick him up tomorrow from school." Rick repeated, chuckling slightly. Sophia let out a laugh, turning to look at the boy in question.

"Oh so you go to school? You're not as illiterate as you seem!"

"Sophia!" Carol scolded her.

"Shut the hell up!" Carl replied, leaning partially over the table, not taking his eyes off Sophia. Judith laughed, shaking her head.

"Swear jar!"

"Carl, enough." Rick said. Everyone at the table laughed, while the teenagers continued to look at each other with a certain amount of disdain. Rick sighed, turning his gaze to Daryl. "Can you do that for us? I know I'm asking a lot but..."

"S' no problem. Do I have to bring Jude too?"

"Nope, we're having a girls day tomorrow after school! Right?" Maggie intervened, who was sitting in front of the girl, extending her arm while wriggling her fingers, Judith doing the same and smiling at her aunt.

"Yeah!" Jude exclaimed excitedly. Gasping, she hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I forgot to finish my art project! Be right back." As the girl ran up to go to her room, everyone looked at each other, laughing.

"Didn't you have a project to finish too, huh?" Michonne asked, turning to see Carl, who rolled his eyes.

"That was like a week and a half ago. But you know, Y/N is the coolest, she wouldn't rush or pressure us into doing anything." He replied, picking up his glass to take a sip of soda, glancing at Daryl out of the corner of his eye. Hearing her name, he felt his stomach drop to the floor, the phone in his pocket weighing more than usual. How had it been almost two weeks since the message? He still hadn't responded, and he didn't know how to do so.

"Y/N is the art teacher?" Rick asked, to which his son nodded.

"Yup. Ask Daryl, he's her friend."

"Your friend? Since when?" Glenn chimed in, too intrigued to keep quiet while the rest talked. Maggie turned to look at him amused, shaking her head.

"Uh, yeah. She was a friend of mine." Daryl cleared his throat, nodding. He didn't know how to get out of this situation —again— thanks to Carl. "Long time no see."

"Carl said she is, you said was. What is it?" Michonne asked, as incisive as ever. He couldn't help but rub his palms against his pants, trying to get rid of the sudden sweat.

"Was m'fault. Kid's right, she's cool." He simply answered. Two weeks had passed without him turning his thoughts to that place he didn't want to return to: you. He regretted being a coward, but it was better for both of you not to be around anymore, and he would do everything possible to make that happen. In fact, he never deserved a friendship like yours.

Even though everyone at the table continued with their conversation and moved on from the topic, respecting that Daryl preferred not to go into detail about you, he couldn't help but feel Carl's gaze on him for the rest of the night. Was he making the wrong decision?

Stopping the bike in front of the school, this time at the correct building, he got off the bike, leaving the helmet on the seat. It wasn't common for him to wear it, but he knew he would need it for Carl. Being in that place, once again, was making him nervous. The boy knew how to act to intimidate him in some way, and while his parents preferred him to go home accompanied, Daryl knew that the teen had been behind that plan.

Before he even had time to think about what would happen if Carl didn't show up on time and where he should look for him, he started to hear voices, teenagers leaving the school with red, sweaty faces, evidence that they had had gym class. Suddenly, those voices started to get louder, making Daryl frown, sneaking closer to the entrance. It sounded like a fight.

"What's wrong with you?! They're kids! Students! Your students." A female voice said, anger visible in her voice. As he approached, the few boys who had left turned to see what was happening in the hallway.

"Oh c'mon, doll! Cut me some slack, would you? It's not that fucking d—" A man responded, being interrupted by the same voice from before, trying to cover him up.

"It is! It is that deep, you were yelling horrible things at them!"

"Because they need to grow a fucking backbone!"

When Daryl reached the school entrance, you appeared in his vision, in front of a man dressed in gymnastics —the gym coach, he assumed— who was watching you with a mocking smile, while you had to look up slightly to see his face. Carl, with desperation written on his face, was at your side, along with two other classmates. Without hesitation, he walked up the steps to enter the school, standing close to you but not interrupting.

"No, they don't! They are teens. You should stop trying to give them reasons to drop out of school," you said, lowering your voice, a sigh leaving your lips before continuing, "you should give them reasons to stay, Negan. This is supposed to be a safe place."

After speaking, almost as if you had sensed his presence, you turned to look at him with a certain confusion on your face, frowning. Daryl couldn't identify what was happening to you, but he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Enough, we're leavin' right now. Let's go." He said quietly, motioning for Carl to start walking, one of his hands placing itself on your shoulder for you to follow. Negan laughed, looking at him in disbelief.

"You need a guard dog now, huh? I thought you were better than that." He commented, clearly trying to be hurtful. Daryl couldn't care less what some idiot he just met thought of him, they were comments he'd heard all his life, for one reason or another, but he didn't want that comment to affect you. As he was opening his mouth to respond, your voice was heard.

"You keep telling yourself that, Negan. You're so miserable being human that you constantly need to make people feel like less of a person." You said, looking at him one last time before leaving the school, Daryl following close behind you with Carl, both of you turning to see the gym coach standing in the middle of the hallway, looking like he didn't understand what had just happened. As he walked away from the building, he stopped when he saw you doing the same, turning to look at him. Only then was he able to notice your red, glassy eyes, watching him with that expression he still couldn't decipher.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl. He had no right to say that to you." You said, your voice cracking, making Daryl's heart break. Years passed, and the only thing capable of making him want to cry were your own tears. Pressing his lips together, he shook his head as he huffed, brushing off the matter.

"Ain't what matters. Guy's an asshole, I can tell." He answered, turning to look at Carl, who nodded.

"Yeah, you know Negan. He's mean but he don't really mean what he says." The teenager intervened, causing you to let out a humorless laugh.

“He means everything he says because he hypes himself up by drowning other people.” Rolling your eyes, you brought your hand up to Carl’s hair, messing it up slightly. “Would you mind to leave me and Daryl alone for a bit, sweetheart?”

Carl nodded, giving you a side hug, which you returned with a big smile, as he turned to look at his uncle once more, eyes narrowing. Daryl looked between you and him, finally focusing his gaze on you. Having you face to face, this time alone, intimidated him. He had always been intimidated, in the best possible way. If he had the chance to look at other people, he would still choose to keep looking at you, because you were the only person capable of looking at him as if he really had a place in the world. As if he really mattered.

"I assume you didn't receive my text?" You asked, tilting your head slightly as you ran your ring finger across your eye, wiping away the excess tears that hadn't finished falling. He kept that unreadable expression, though he was afraid you could read it.

"Nah, I didn't." He said, feeling guilty almost instantly. "What did it say?"

"Carl sent me your number and I wanted to keep in touch with you, if that's okay. But if you don't want to, you know where I live." You said, making him hesitate for a moment. As far as he knew, you had moved out from that house a while ago, but...

"You're at yer mom's house?"

"Exactly. Well, at least in the house by the front, I constructed a mini house in the back, made myself a little art school so kids can hang out. Sometimes I help them with homework and stuff." You told him, pride evident in your voice. "You should stop by one day, you know my mom loved you."

Daryl nodded, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, nervousness stuck in his stomach at the mere thought of running into you again, and at the mention of your mother. Back in the day, it was just the two of you, and never—really, never—had been rude or violent towards Daryl, as people usually were. However, he didn't know how to let you know those fond memories or how to respond to that invitation, so he just responded with a low "m'kay."

"I should probably get going... Hope to see you soon, Dar. Take care." You said, giving him one last smile and a light caress on his arm before heading back to the parking lot, while he nodded slightly in greeting. He cringed at the nickname, since you had always called him that just to annoy him, but thinking about it, he had missed hearing you call him that. Turning to the side, he found Carl leaning against a tree, waiting for the conversation to end.

"Now I understand why you didn't thank me. Why didn't you answer her message?!" He whispered shouted, taking Daryl by surprise and making him back off a bit at Carl's hand movements.

"None of yer business, kid. Get on the bike." He said, passing him the helmet so he could put it on, which he obeyed, but not before complaining under his breath.

On the way to the Grimes’ house, his mind couldn’t get away from what you had said to Negan, how you had stood up for the kids, and most of all, he couldn’t ignore your invitation. Dropping Carl off safely at his home, he decided to take a few more laps around the neighborhood, deciding what to do. Finally, he found himself passing by that house he could easily recognize from his younger years, and although nothing had changed, he could notice that there were more plants on the porch and it was painted a different color, more vibrant than it once was. Your favorite. As he struggled, he could see you under the tree at the entrance of the house, your overalls stained with paint, as you scolded him once again.

"Stay still! I need to get your face correctly or my project will look like a mess." You told him, one hand on his jaw as you gently turned his face, the other hand holding the pencil firmly on the paper.

He huffed, annoyed at having to stay still for so long. "Shoulda get a better model, girl." As he spoke, he noticed how you rolled your eyes in response, shaking your head. "What?"

"You, Daryl Dixon, don't see yourself as I do." You replied, a smile appearing on your face as you tapped his nose with your index finger, causing his face to instantly turn red. "The only thing you can see is the bridge of your nose, and I'm not even sure that you actually see it."

Daryl never quite understood what you meant by that, but he stayed still the rest of the time you needed, learning to enjoy the moments that would later serve as fuel to keep him going. He was still afraid —sometimes— that his tank would run dry, that he would have to live remembering what you were like, but at that very moment he decided that he didn't want to feel what losing you was like again. Getting off his motorcycle, he left it at the side of the house, taking a seat on the front steps, ready to wait for you, turning to look in confusion when he heard the front door open.

"What are you doing here?"

#🍃—arieswrites #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl dixon

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cappulcino · 2 months ago

Text

Seven Days Til Fall (Part 6)

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

Read on AO3 (you do need to be logged in, though)

Words: 5,349

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader

Summary: You're an angel sent on a divine mission to retrieve a powerful relic that has been stolen from Heaven. The orders are clear: gain an audience with the Devil, make deals with them if necessary, anything to return that object to the Silver City. But Hell is not quite what you expected, and neither is Lucifer.

Trigger warnings: None in this chapter (let me know if you think I should add some)

A/N: Thank you for your patience. This past month has been very busy, and you have all been so kind. Hope the wait will be worth it.

The first thing you felt on that sixth morning was the cold. But it wasn't the kind of cold you had experienced in certain regions of Hell –which was rather more metaphysical for beings like you anyway– nor did it seem to be the kind of cold Arakiel had reported feeling on the top of the highest mountains of Earth.

So you were neither in Hell nor on Earth. But wherever you were did not quite look like Heaven either because the cold coursing through your body, creeping through the stone floor beneath you and numbing your skin, felt harsh, physical, and profoundly evil.

You shifted, feeling a dull ache in your head and neck that made you wince as you tried to open your eyes, only to realise they had been covered. The realisation made you slightly panic. Heaven had kept you blind for too long –no more. And so, unable to reach for the blindfold with your hands as they had been shackled, you squirmed, moving erratically like a beast until the cloth fell and you could finally take in your surroundings.

You had expected the usual blinding Light, full of your Creator's love –if that was still the word for it. But instead, you found out you had been put in a dimly lit cell where God's Light never shone. You were not on Earth and yet, it seemed your only light source was a weak moonbeam coming through a loophole in the wall and a couple of stars. So where were you? Purgatory? A demimonde?

You shifted again, trying to sit in a more comfortable position –if there was any. It hurt. Your wings were crumpled awkwardly beneath you and all your muscles felt heavy as if weighed down by something you couldn't name.

In front of you, there was no door or bars –just an open archway and a faint shimmering indicating an invisible barrier.

"Hello?" you tried, hoping to catch a guardian's attention or perhaps to hear from another prisoner. "Anybody here?"

Your question was answered only by the echo of your own voice resonating unpleasantly in your ears, amplifying the pulsing headache behind your eyes.

Slowly, you pushed yourself to your feet, leaning heavily against the wall for balance. Your legs quivered under you, but you refused to let them give way. You were tired of being forced to your knees, literally and figuratively.

"Hello?" you called out again, louder this time. "Anyone? Can somebody please answer me?"

Despite the pain, you kept on blabbering, hoping to get a reply. But the air in this cell felt thin and distant, and you soon found yourself out of breath.

Thankfully, you heard a door unlocking in the distance then, as well as quiet footsteps. Finally somebody was coming.

An angel you vaguely remembered as Nanahel appeared in the doorway holding a small silver tray with bread and wine on it. She paused just before the invisible forcefield that held you captive for a moment, taking in your battered form.

"Peace be upon you, Nanahel," you offered weakly.

Nanahel seemed to appreciate that you remembered her name –she was low-ranking after all, and you had only met her a few times– but didn't answer your greeting. The lack of reply made you clench your jaw. Nanahel was only a mere Principality, she was supposed to greet you back, and with reverence, too. But her indifference made you suddenly wonder if you were even a Dominion still.

Eventually, Nanahel stepped closer and stopped right in front of you. Balancing the tray in her left hand, she broke a piece of bread with her right hand and held it out, waiting for you to open your mouth. But you were most definitely not going to take food from the same hand that had betrayed you –not that Nanahel was personally responsible, bless her, but she was on their side– and so you turned away.

"Eat," she said, more as a request than an order at first.

"I feel no hunger and do not need the food."

"You do here. Eat."

Her tone was a bit firmer this time, but when her instance was met by yet another refusal, it outright became commanding.

"Listen, you have no choice. You must eat and I shall stay here until you have eaten the bread and drunk the wine."

"Are they trying to poison me?"

"What?"

"You seem so adamant to have me eat this meagre pittance. I'm simply wondering if the Divine Council wants me dead."

Nanahel didn't answer that, and you wondered whether she didn't because she didn't want to indulge you or because she didn't dare tell you that Michael and his peers did, in fact, want to get rid of you. Either way, you gave in.

"Fine. But can I at least have the dignity to eat with my own hands?"

The Principality hesitated.

"Are you going to attack me?"

"Do I look in a position to attack you right now, Nanahel?"

"Do you promise to eat everything if I let you feed yourself?"

"I swear."

Swearing was not the most welcome terminology in the Silver City, of course. But it served your purpose and convinced Nanahel, who put the tray down and approached you with caution.

You slightly pushed yourself off the wall to give her better access to your chains and thanked her weakly when you heard the keys jangling and felt the tension around your wrists easing. And as Nanahel freed you, you realised she had a scent. Angels weren't supposed to smell of anything as they weren't earthly creatures, but Nanahel did –and this cell did– and though you supposed mortals would describe that fragrance as an odour of sanctity, you found yourself hating it.

Without a word, Nanahel then picked up the tray and jerked it in your direction, urging you to eat and drink what was on it once more. You complied in equal silence, looking her right in the eye as you took the bread with your left hand. That made her flinch and gasp slightly.

"Won't you at least eat properly?"

No. You were done following all those ludicrous rules blindly and therefore decided to keep eating with your left hand without ever breaking eye contact with the Principality. Similarly, you took the wine with your left hand and guzzled it carelessly, even letting it dribble on your white robes.

Now even more tense than when she had first arrived, Nanahel didn't waste a second to restrain you again as soon as you were finished. And as she did so, she spoke in a clipped voice.

"I'll return after lauds to relay today's sermon and pray with you. And I'll do so for every following Mass until the trial is over."

Your heart dropped to your stomach and every ounce of defiance left your body, suddenly replaced by a profound dread.

"What did you say?"

"I said I would check on you until the trial is over."

"Whose trial?"

"Yours, silly."

You gasped as you remembered Michael's words from last night when he had said the Divine Council would "discuss your case". Definitely no promotion then.

"But I'm not there!"

"Nor do you need to be. The Council's decision will be based on facts, not sentiment."

"'Facts'? Will the fact that Heaven is inhabited by a horde of hypocrites be taken into account?" You spat, lashing out as tears started to prickle your eyes.

Nanahel recoiled a bit, visibly shocked and somewhat disgusted by your attitude.

"May Our Lord have mercy on your soul," she mumbled rather grudgingly as she turned to leave.

"No, Nanahel, wait–"

"I'll pray for you."

"I don't want you to pray! Nanahel, come back! Nanahel!"

Pushed by the chaos inside your head, you tried to run after her. But the restraints on your wrists pulled you back and, with your legs still weak and your crumpled wings destabilising you, you lost your balance and fell to your knees, right in the pale, silvery glow coming through the tiny window of your cell.

Panting, your chest heaving, you turned to that opening onto that unknown, hostile world. And right up there, in the navy sky, you found a bright dot which you quickly realised was what humans called the morning star.

The Morningstar. The Lightbringer. Lucifer.

You burst into tears then, thinking about the ruler of Hell and the events of the previous day and the day before that, too.

There were so many more things you wished you had said and done with Lucifer. Lucifer who had opened your eyes to your condition as an angel in the Silver City. Lucifer who had taught you so many things in so very few, well-chosen words, trying to show you a path beyond the rigidity of Heaven's expectations. Lucifer who had praised you, had made you laugh, had touched your wings. Lucifer… who had almost kissed you.

Instead, you had walked away. You had been so focused on the promises of Heaven, the mission the Divine Council had given you –and, let's be honest, a selfish need to save yourself caused by the fear Michael had instilled in you– that you ignored something far more real, more pressing.

The Morningstar has cried for you –or because of you. They had allowed themself to be vulnerable, and you had rejected them. And now, in the cold and solitude of your cell, you realised the ache in your chest wasn't so much from doubt or the heavy burdens of the Silver City –it was something else entirely, something you hadn't yet allowed yourself to name.

Tears kept welling in your eyes and rolling down your face as you realised what you had lost forever. Because it was evident, you would never see Lucifer nor hear their voice, full of wit and wisdom, or feel the warmth of their fingers on your wings ever again.

The Lightbringer would come to Heaven someday, you knew that –provided the Council respected its part of the deal– but you knew you would never have the right to see them, nor could you be certain they would even want to see you by then.

Choking on your sobs, you turned back to the loophole in your cell, to the dim light of the morning star shining faintly through the gloom.

"I'm sorry, Lucifer," you wailed shakily. "I'm so sorry."

"Your Majesty."

Lucifer was sitting on their throne, barely conscious of the chaos of their realm as Mazikeen approached. They had been like this for hours now, and she had offered everything she could think of to get back the ruler she still had not even a week ago: demon battles, torture, an impromptu Dionysian gathering, even sex. All to no avail.

Lucifer's mind was elsewhere, detached, almost adrift. They kept staring blankly at the flames dancing in the pit in the middle of their throne room, their thoughts circling around something –or rather, someone– now far beyond their reach. An angel. Their angel.

"Your Majesty," Mazikeen tried again.

"What?" Lucifer snapped, their fingers tightening around the armrest of the throne, making the polished surface groan under the pressure.

Mazikeen sighed, despair taking over her features. This was not the Lightbringer she knew, the one who commanded with absolute authority, who could turn any situation in their favour. She had seen Lucifer in pain before –there had been a thousand betrayals, a thousand wars– but this was different. This was personal, deep, and she swore to herself that if she ever saw you again, she would slit your throat.

"Please," Mazikeen said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "You cannot sit here forever."

Lucifer remained silent as if refusing to acknowledge Mazikeen's pleas. They kept their gaze unfocused, lost in the orange fire before them, their chin resting in one hand while the fingers of their other hand tapped furiously on the armrest, proof of their inner turmoil.

Seeing that neither patience nor enticement would work, Mazikeen closed the distance between her and the throne in quick, powerful strides and knelt before Lucifer.

"My Lord!" her voice broke through again, sharper this time. She had never needed to shout before. "You have to pull Yourself together. If the demons sense vulnerability, this realm will fall apart!"

Lucifer sighed heavily.

"It is Hell, Mazikeen. Everything and everyone here is constantly falling apart."

"We both know that is not true. This is not who You are."

Slowly, Lucifer straightened up and tilted their head, finally looking down at Mazikeen. Just as slowly, they reached to cup her cheek –the melted side of her face–, grazing it gently with their fingers, which made the she-demon's eyes shine with hope.

Then Lucifer opened their mouth, trying to come up with something to reassure or even compliment her. Their "good, faithful Mazikeen" as you had described her yesterday. But nothing came out, their nice words had seemingly all been used up on someone else. They closed their mouth and let go of Mazikeen's face before standing up and putting some distance between them again.

After a few long breaths, Lucifer finally spoke.

"Well, what is it you came to tell Us?"

Disappointed, Mazikeen sighed and rose to her feet, gripping her swords like a lifeline.

"The generals demand action. Now that Your deal with Heaven is closed and You received the authorisation to go there."

"Of course, they do. But We have already stated multiple times We would not use Our visitation rights until the time is suitable, have We not?"

"You have. But if I may… There is a risk that if You keep postponing Your visit to the Silver City, endlessly waiting for 'the right time', You will miss out on many opportunities."

Lucifer's back and wings tensed but they didn't turn around.

"Are you implying that We procrastinate confronting Our brother, Mazikeen?"

"No. I am merely suggesting You use this… renewed hate towards angels to formulate a plan, go back to Your Father's realm, and take back what is rightfully Yours."

Lucifer huffed.

"There is no 'renewed hate towards–' Wait." They cut themself off and finally spun to face Mazikeen again, bringing a hand to their heart as if to contain its erratic beating. "What did you say?"

Mazikeen frowned.

"Uh… To formulate a plan, go back to–"

"No, after that."

"And take back what is rightfully Yours."

Lucifer's wings suddenly unfurled, assuming a dominating stance, and their eyes darkened. It seemed something had clicked in their mind, and they were burning with ambition again.

"Ours."

"Let the defendant in."

After an eternity in your cell, Nanahel had eventually come accompanied by two Thrones, both clad in shining armour with their faces obscured by helmets. They had covered your eyes –surely so you wouldn't know the way from your cell back to the main areas of Heaven– and were now ushering you inside the Council chamber as its large doors opened without a sound. Only then did they let you see your surroundings.

The Divine Council sat in a semicircle, their thrones imposing and gleaming with an unnatural light. At the centre, on the highest throne, sat the Metatron, the Voice of God, his eyes cold and unreadable. His mere presence was enough to make you shiver and look away.

At the Metatron's side, you noticed Michael sitting with his sword resting against his knee, Gabriel with his usual smug smile, and the rest of the Archangels gazing right into your soul, their eyes hard as stone.

So you then looked at the assembly, millions of angels gathered to attend your trial –or rather, public humiliation. Most of them looked at you with an unforgiving expression or even hate. But as you scanned the crowd, you found some confused frowns, like Muriel's, and very few compassionate eyes, like Camael's and Arakiel's.

Suddenly, a herald angel stood to your right, unrolled a scroll and spoke in a flat, formal tone.

"Angel of the Fourth Choir, Dominion of the Silver City, you stand before the Divine Council today, accused of gross insubordination, consorting with the Fallen, and expressing thoughts contrary to the will and nature of the Almighty. You are charged with treason against the Divine Order."

With your heart pounding in your chest, you opened your mouth to plead innocent, but Gabriel raised a hand to stop you.

"Don't bother answering that."

"Indeed," Uriel added. "The evidence speaks for itself."

"Evidence?" you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What evidence?" This was all going way too fast, and you felt dizzy.

Michael nodded in the herald's direction and the latter spoke again.

"The words you have spoken in private, the thoughts you believed hidden from the Almighty, have been heard and recorded. The walls of Heaven are not deaf, Dominion."

"I– No! I have never spoken against–" You were suddenly cut off by your own voice resonating through the room.

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

Then Camael's.

There is this look on your face… I think it's doubt.

Your voice again.

How is that a good thing?

His Great, blasted Plan.

Your conversation with Gabriel from two nights past.

You were there. You sang, too. –No!

And finally, your desperate outburst in your cell this morning.

Will the fact that Heaven is inhabited by a horde of hypocrites be taken into account?

I'm sorry, Lucifer.

Your stomach twisted as Michael spoke. "The Council has reviewed everything you have said in recent days, and it is clear that your heart has strayed far from the Light. The celestial spheres have borne witness to your disobedience, your doubt, your… affections for the Morningstar."

You turned back to the crowd and noticed myriads of angels looking shocked or repulsed by your words, exchanging whispers of indignation.

"Do you deny these thoughts, Dominion? Do you deny consorting with Lucifer? Do you deny that your actions have endangered the stability of Heaven itself?"

"I…"

Your voice faltered. You thought the Archangel's words to be exaggerated, but you didn't know how to defend yourself, nor if there was any point in trying.

"I sought understanding, Your Grace," you eventually managed to say, your voice trembling. "Is that a crime? To seek the truth?"

"It is a crime to seek what lies outside of God's Light," Raphael spoke.

"Therefore the Divine Council has judged your case," Azrael added. "And our sentence is irrevocable."

At that point, the Metatron stood up and revealed the decision long made in your absence.

"For your insubordination and questioning of Our Lord's ways, this Court has decided… that should you accept to ask for forgiveness, you may be saved from disgrace. Atone for your sins, submit to Heaven's judgement, and you will stay in the Silver City, only demoted from your rank."

You felt the blood drain from your face and the dizziness made you sway a little. A demotion. A lifetime of servitude, chained by the very system that had already shackled your wrists and bound your mind. Such was the definition of God's mercy.

"Well?" The Metatron was waiting for your answer which, to any respectable angel, should be more than evident.

The very thought of what you were about to say made your whole body quiver, but you mustered every last ounce of courage you could find in your heart and finally replied.

"No."

Loud gasps resonated through the chamber and the Archangels of the Divine Council exclaimed some "Have you lost your mind?" and "Wait. What?" You glanced behind you once more and found Camael's purple eyes in the distance. They were frantically shaking their head as if urging you to reconsider.

The Metatron furrowed his white eyebrows. He then raised a hand to silence the clamour, and asked, "Come again?"

"I said no, Your Highness."

The Divine Council had made its decision, you had made yours. If refusing the Council's offer meant to spend the rest of your miserable, lonely existence in that cell, then in that cell you would stay. But you wouldn't obey, much less serve, any of those people any more.

Yet, the Metatron decided to insist for the third time.

"Are you quite certain, little angel? You know forgiveness is always given to those who ask for it."

Yes, that was what you used to believe –what they had made you believe. But that was then and you had changed much this past week. You thought about the dead mortals in the Woods of Suicides, about Lucifer and the angels in this room who once sang as they fell, and you knew you were doing the right thing for yourself.

"Just say you're sorry!" Gabriel almost shouted.

You looked at him, then at Michael, and back at the Metatron.

"Never."

Your answer created yet another uproar behind you. You heard some voices calling you a traitor, devil worshipper, while others simply booed.

The Archangels exchanged nods, and then Michael spoke.

"Hence, you give us no choice. There is no place for you here, nor anywhere else in this Holy Kingdom. Usually, we would decide to cast criminals like you down to Hell. But given your… ties with my sibling, I am afraid this becomes no suitable punishment."

He was right. You would rejoice and maybe even sing about your own Fall.

"Therefore, here is your final sentence," the Metatron announced, always in charge of giving the verdict. "You have played with fire, flirted with it. And, inevitably, you shall get burnt. Angel of the Fourth Choir, Dominion of the Silver City, this Court sentences you… to death by Hellfire."

Hellfire. A punishment reserved only for the most unforgivable, those whose souls were considered too dangerous, too corrupted to exist even in Hell.

You had not expected that and, for a moment, you couldn't move or breathe. A cold sweat ran across your brow, and your wings, still battered and weak, twitched instinctively.

"To death!" the assembly intoned.

And then the same Thrones that had retrieved you from your cell seized you by the elbows and dragged you out of the room and towards a vast courtyard at the centre of the Silver City.

By the time you got there, the courtyard, which had once held parties, important Holy Masses, and so many more joyful events, had been transformed into a stage for your public execution.

Angels of all kinds were now gathering around a massive column of Hellfire that had been summoned from the depths of the Abyss. It crackled with an unnatural intensity, even darker and more sinister than anything you had seen in Hell. Or perhaps was it the sharp contrast with Heaven's natural pristine glow that made it so terrifying.

Your legs nearly gave way beneath you as you saw it, and for a moment, despite how confident you felt in your rebellion, the hopelessness threatened to overwhelm you. No being, mortal or divine, had ever survived the flames of Hellfire, save for Lucifer and a few selected demons. This was the end.

The two Thrones threw you to your knees before the fire, and you could feel the heat emanating from it, licking at your skin, searing your feathers even from a distance. The sensation was suffocating, and, in your head, you found yourself repeating the same name over and over again.

Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer.

You repeated the Morningstar's name so many times that you were certain it had actually begun to leave your mouth, and it even started losing its meaning. Yet, to you, it now meant everything.

Above you, the Metatron's voice rang out, proclaiming your sins for all to hear.

"This angel, who once belonged to the Holy Orders, has chosen the path of defiance and turned away from the Light. For this former Dominion's transgressions and loyalty to the Fallen, let Justice be done."

You felt hands bind your wings, painfully stretching them back so you wouldn't have the reflex to fly away, but your gaze remained fixed on the inferno facing you. Then the Thrones violently forced you back on your feet.

Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer.

"March."

Of course, you had no wish to die. For immortal beings like you, there was no afterlife, only oblivion. Once your body entered these flames, your very essence would combust, and you would be no more –in fact, the whole of Heaven would act as if you had never existed.

Yet, you took a step forward. And another. And another. Your vision narrowed, and the cries and chants around you became muffled, your ears solely vibrating with the thumping of your heart.

Lucifer.

The fire flared, almost beckoning. You kept walking, closed your eyes, and finally let yourself be swallowed by the flames.

You waited for Death's embrace and indeed felt strong arms closing around your waist. But then the intense heat vanished as a new kind of warmth engulfed you, familiar, soothing, safe.

You opened your eyes and first noticed the black, leathery cocoon enveloping you. And then, ever so slowly, your heart soaring with hope, you tilted your head back.

"Lucifer…"

"Hello, little dove," Lucifer whispered with a soft smile as Hellfire's glow made a single tear twinkle on their cheek.

"How did You…" Your voice trailed because you couldn't comprehend everything that had just happened.

"Hellfire obeys Us alone, and We have long since commanded it not to harm you."

The flames recoiled further, shrinking away from Lucifer as if in reverence to their true master, bowing to Lucifer’s will, and retreating into the Abyss from which they came.

As they did so, Lucifer gently let go of you, making sure you could stand on your feet before they turned to the million pairs of angelic eyes glued to them.

"Get them out of here!" someone shouted in the audience.

"You are not welcome here!" another angel added.

"Peace be upon You, my dear sibling," Michael said as calmly as he could, though he was boiling inside, approaching with his sword clutched in hand.

"Hmm. If only, Michael," Lucifer retorted. "We note you forgot to mention our deal to the rest of your kind."

Michael said nothing, his jaw clenching visibly while Lucifer surveyed the assembly at an unhurried pace, the faintest smirk on their lips. They then stopped, retrieved the contract they had brought with them, and quoted it.

"'In consideration of the retrieval of the Cup of Eternal Grace,' et cetera, et cetera, 'the Divine Council does hereby agree to grant Lucifer Morningstar one Visitation to Heaven.' We believe this makes Us most welcome here. At least for the next… fifty-seven minutes. Does it not, brother?"

Michael's fist tightened around the hilt of his sword while the Metatron stepped forward, attempting to maintain his authority before the angels present here began to protest.

"Still, You have no jurisdiction here, Lucifer. This is Heaven's justice."

Lucifer turned to him and looked him up and down with unabashed disdain.

"Precisely," they admitted. "Hellfire belongs to Us and it will not burn a single feather of that angel's wings. So how do you wish to proceed?"

"How do You mean?"

"Well, you want to kill the Dominion, but We are telling you Hellfire will not take part in this so-called heavenly justice. Therefore, how do you wish to carry out the sentence?"

Silence had fallen over the Silver City and you observed this surreal interaction with a strange mixture of relief and confusion.

And then it hit you, and you understood what Lucifer was doing. They had found a loophole. The decision to sentence you to death by Hellfire was not only an act of humiliation but also a way for the leaders of the Silver City to get rid of you without getting their hands dirty. Because no matter how much Heaven seemed to bend the rules, God's Law still prevailed, and "Thou shall not kill". So by making you walk into Hellfire yourself, Heaven's conscience remained clean while you died, basically committing one last sin: suicide. But take Hellfire away, and the perfect murder could be no more.

"That sword of yours," Lucifer then mused, taking Michael's wrist to lift the weapon before running their index down the blade, "could be…" They brought their finger to their lips and licked off the blood they had drawn. "Adequate. But everybody here knows you will not use it."

"I have a sudden feeling I might," Michael growled.

"Enough!" The Metatron interjected, putting an end to these childish threats. Then he turned to Lucifer. "I shall have a word with You. Now."

It had been almost an hour since the whole commotion in the courtyard after your miraculous escape from death, and you were back in your cell, wondering if the Morningstar would manage to find a way out for you before their visitation rights expired.

Finally, you felt them approach, so you lifted your head and noticed they still sported the same soft smile as earlier. They were somewhat happy, you realised. Happy to see you. Behind them, the Metatron stood in the shadow, his eyes skewering you.

"How did You know?" you asked softly as Lucifer stopped a mere foot away from you. You had spent most of the past hour trying to figure out how they had managed to appear just in time to save you.

"We did not –not for certain. But We had a presentiment something would happen to you. We saw the fear in your eyes yesterday and the last flicker of hope born out of Our brother's empty promises. We have been there, We recognised the signs."

"But I thought… This is the last time You will ever be allowed in the Silver City. I thought You would come when the time was right, when You had a true reason, something important."

"Yes. And We did."

Your heart skipped a beat when Lucifer said that, and even more so when you noticed their eyes flickering to your lips before they promptly blinked and looked away.

"So… What are they going to do with me?" you asked after a short, uncomfortable silence. "Are they going to… send me to an isolated planet on the other side of the cosmos?"

That made Lucifer chuckle briefly, but their smile quickly faded.

"No."

Another silence.

"Am I going to fall?"

Lucifer nodded, and you felt a disagreeable contrast between your heart warming up and your blood turning cold.

"Will it be painful?"

"Extremely." Lucifer saw no point in trying to make you hope otherwise. "And lonely."

"But You will be there, on the other side."

"Always."

"Lightbringer, it is time to leave. The hour is coming to an end," the Metatron finally spoke from outside the cell.

"Yes," Lucifer replied. "No need to chase Us away this time. We will see Ourself out." Then they brought their fingers up to graze your cheek. "You have a few hours to prepare; it will happen when God puts an end to this day. We will be waiting."

Lucifer's touch lingered for a moment as if they were wishing you good luck, and then they left.

Once Lucifer had gone, you were left alone in the dim light of your cell, trying to make sense of everything that had happened today. A trial, a sentence, the blistering heat of Hellfire, and now, the promise of an eternity in Hell. It felt surreal, as though you were being swept along by forces beyond your control, moving too fast for your mind to fully comprehend.

A week ago, Lucifer and their subjects were your sworn enemies, you knew nothing about Hell, largely misunderstood it, and, above all, hated it. And tonight, despite the growing anxiety, you found yourself longing for it all.

With your lips parting in a small smile, you sat down on the cold stone floor and turned to the narrow window to your left. The air was chilly and smelled like rain, and you suddenly remembered what day tomorrow was.

Tomorrow was autumn. Fall. Your Fall.

And there was evening, and there was morning –the sixth day.

#reblog appreciated #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer #lucifer the sandman #the sandman #the sandman fandom #the sandman fanfiction #gwendoline christie fandom #gwendoline christie #cappulcino writes

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hoseoksluna · 10 months ago

Text

YOU'RE NOT DIRTY | myg

pairing: ex boyfriend!yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: he, who has always been able to untangle the ropes of chaos that is your mental health, helps you when you need to not be alone for once.

warnings: demonization of sex, anxiety, fear, crying & all kinds of iffy feelings about sex, yoongi being perfect

note: this was purely written as a way to heal and cope with the fact i felt extremely dirty after writing my last smut fic 'story'. if you've been following me and reading the little updates i post, you already know this. while this fic is loosely based on 'story', it's not necessary that you read it if you haven't, although namjoon is mentioned. i'd spent over a week writing this and every day had been a step closer to feeling better and it's all thanks to yoongi. he's always been the person who helped me with my mental health, especially when d-day came out. it had to be him. he's linked to this part of me forever. enjoy reading guys <3

“You’re not dirty.”

Those words should comfort you. Those words should rip away those sleazy fingers of the ghost that touches you—the ghost of shame, who mocks the touches of the lover you were with barely an hour ago. But those words do anything but.

The man, who uttered them, studies your ashen face. He doesn’t see the demon’s large body on top of yours, constricting your airflow. Nobody ever does.

He doesn’t see the way the ghost scrapes the surface of your skin with its long claws; how its flimsy, wet and tattered cape deepens the wound with its rough fabric as bile rises in your throat. How could anyone?

It hurts.

It hurts to the point that you think your sexuality is that demon. That anytime a person of the opposite sex would touch you from now on, he would somehow beckon that hostile creature to come and collect you, slimy hands grasping yours and pulling you in—the touch so deathly that the sordidness would seep into your skin and make a bed in you. Then, the torture would begin all over again.

Shortness of breath. The feeling of your body being dirty and heavy. The distaste towards sex and men that follows after. The despair; the loss of hope that life could be possibly normal for you sometime in the future.

Despite it being such a hefty feeling, only a small part of you regards as true that this is someone else’s fault. It’s devastatingly pathetic.

The majority of your being believes that the foulness is yours. That you’re the one to blame. You believe that it’s your decision and your repulsive actions that stain you. And if that wasn’t enough, the certain question of why links arms with that belief, troubles you along the way, and it becomes much, much worse.

Why does filling a dose of hormones that you lack, that you need for your well-being leave you feeling like you did something very bad?

And, also, another one.

Why does enjoying yourself with another person—becoming close with them in a way that is tempestuous, dizzying and beautiful in such a simple sense, in a way that makes life truly worth living—why does it leave you with those burdening thoughts, soiled body and even grimier conscience?

Those questions fill you up with dark clouds with no stars, dense and thick ones that weigh your body down. You walk through your daily life with trembling legs. And it’s all forced. You’d rather not feel that way, but it comes over you, swallowing you whole, and you have no strength to fight back. It’s all very frustrating. There’s nothing you can do.

The man’s words should take the edge off this discomfort, the lull and the softness of his tone—the maturity, complexity and dependability of his persona the very warmth that coats his voice—like a damp towel to all your gashes and sores. Help you in some way that you’re unable to help yourself. Perhaps lift the body off of you like Atlas held the world above his head. But they don’t.

And it’s Yoongi. The man you love, even if the state of your relationship is chastely friendly at the moment.

It’s Yoongi, who picked you up in the rain pouring down on you woefully, perfuming your hair with the sweetest, most heady scent of the forest. Yoongi, who gave you his clothes—boxers that fit you comfortably, even if they are a little loose in certain areas, gray sweatpants that decorate the ivory waistband of the Calvins, an old shirt, quite an expensive one, warm and cozy from the dryer.

Yoongi, who let a velvety blanket fall on your shivering figure once you’ve showered, dressed, and rested comfortably on his couch, placing a light pink bowl filled with cheese puffs on your lap, knowing how much you love the color and the snack, too. Yoongi, who typed the title of your favorite Korean drama into the Netflix search bar, thumb clicking on the up, down, left and right buttons on the remote control, even though he hates doing so and prefers the voice search. Yoongi, who opted for muted leniency to waft through the room, turning off the big lights, sound low, fingers having finished typing the title: ‘It’s Okay Not To Be Okay’.

It should do something. But it doesn’t.

You’re incapable of looking him in the eyes. You just numbly gaze down at the orange tastiness, plopping another one into your mouth, swallowing down the bile. You dissociate, eyes defocusing, the pressure to respond to him a distant siren alarm at the back of your mind.

A solid, peculiar peace steps over the threshold of your mind to check if it’s welcome before it takes a step back and walks the other way, the stench of the mold of your feelings pushing it away.

Must have been his.

He’s careful before he says what he wants to say in its entirety.

Yoongi takes his hands off of your forearms. The glint of his silver watch pulls you out of your detachment. Guilt pricks you at the nape of your neck over the fact that he’s trying and you’re too numb to receive it from him. You will your body to be normal, but it stays the way it is.

You had told him briefly in the car, amidst the onrush of your liquid emotions, that you felt that way. Dirty, soiled, ashamed of your perverseness. He didn’t comment on it, driving in silence. He knew that if he spoke too soon, you wouldn’t hear him—choosing to place your palm on the stick shift instead, holding your hand like that.

It struck you with the notion that you spoke too much. Did too much. That you should’ve just stayed quiet, stayed without feeling until he killed the engine at your apartment, until the door softly clicked behind you. You didn’t hear the language of his hand, all the words that gesture said. Instead, you listened to the false words in your brain.

You’re bothering him. He doesn’t care. He thinks you’re annoying. You should’ve called an Uber or you shouldn’t have come at all. You should’ve been home, depriving yourself of life, of excitement, of love and pleasure.

But Yoongi didn’t drive you home—he didn’t drive down the familiar path to your apartment. And Yoongi didn’t speak because he knows you better than you know yourself.

He wanted you to pour out the rain of your clouds before his words could tear them apart with sunlight. It wasn’t his intention to make you suffer more than you already did.

You didn’t know this, though.

“Did you hear what I said?” the grim man asks, the grave acrimony to his voice alerting you and you feel so bad. So, so very bad.

A silky waterfall of his ebony hair brushes the tops of his cheekbones. You notice how the similarly colored hood of his sweatshirt envelops his neck in warmth, merging the hues into one color within the dimness of the living room. Looking down at your crisscrossed legs, mimicking his, you unfurl the blanket over his thighs. It pulls you into one unity with him, his steadfastness reaching for you.

“I did, Yoongi,” you say, wanting to be honest within the environment you find yourself in. “I just don’t know what to say.”

“Did he make you feel that way?” Yoongi folds his arms over his chest. Leans over the backrest. Suddenly you’re aware of the distance between the two of you. Glad that the blanket is big enough. “Dirty?”

It’s a question that hurts because you wish you could change your answer.

“I wish he did.” Your voice wobbles. Somehow his calm demeanor cracks yours, pushing the voices aside. “It would’ve been easier.”

If Namjoon were the one who hauled the words at you instead of your brain—if it were his touches that dug a hole in your heart instead of the ghost—you wouldn’t be sniffling your nose, willing your tears to go back where they came from. It’s all you and the broken interior of your body. Namjoon treated you perfectly, having invited you over to his residence near the woods. He didn’t make love to you, but he did play with you, coaxing moans out of you that echoed through his mansion. You enjoyed yourself, even though you enjoyed pleasuring him a little more.

Perhaps, that’s the biggest problem of it all.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It would’ve been easier ‘cause I would’ve blamed him.” You sigh, averting your gaze, plucking out fluff from the blanket on your knee.

Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair to sweep it away from his eyes. His leisure position sinks him deeper into the dimness as he lowers his body into the cushions, arms back on his chest.

“There’s no one to blame, though,” he says simply, biting his lower lip.

You don’t know what to say. Busying yourself, you take a sip of the can of Sprite Yoongi got for you, aware of the strange emptiness within the walls of your mind. There’s always some kind of noise, some kind of accusation towards you. You’ve become used to it, learned to live with it. It’s a strange newness, this silence. You don’t know what to do with it.

“You did nothing wrong,” he continues, voice so warm and so deep, despite its monotonicity.

You merely shrug your shoulders.

Yoongi reaches forward and places a hand on your left shoulder. As if to stop your stubbornness from overwhelming your body. You feel the heat of his palm and your mouth rounds in a pout. There’s energy in it—some kind of energy that mends you. His words are tall pillars that you slowly make your way over to, leaning against their coolness. Lukewarmness.

You discover that it feels better. The heat of his touch, the coolness of his solemnity. It creates a temperature that your body responds to, walks away from the hostile creature.

Before he had spoken, Yoongi touched you. Placed his palms in the crooks of your arms. But it didn’t affect you—and it’s because he hadn’t spoken. Now that he has, it whirs with some kind of spark in you that speaks the language of your body.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Yoongi asks, lowering his head, eyes up, so he can look more deeply into yours. Perhaps read an answer. Any reaction that would tell him that he can move forward.

You remain quiet, but you reciprocate the eye contact. And you do it for a reason. Now that your mind is empty, you desire for him to fill it.

You shake your head.

Yoongi cups the side of your neck. Brushes your hair away from your face with his other hand. Inches closer. Pecks you gently on the forehead.

The gesture squeezes the clouds in you and rain pours out. It trickles out of your tear ducts, down your pallid cheeks. Yoongi leans against your temple. Doesn’t let himself see those raindrops, but he knows they’re there.

“You did nothing wrong by enjoying sex and you’re not dirty because you had it. It doesn’t stain you. Do you know what it does instead, though?” He whispers, keeping his voice low just for you; waits for your response.

You shake your head ‘no’ once more, your shoulders relaxing now that you’re being held, now that you’re being spoken to, filled, made new.

“It paints you golden. Glittery. And all colors of the rainbow are in that glitter. It’s all over you and it’s in you. And do you know the reason?”

This time he doesn’t wait. Your tears soak the thick fabric of his sweatshirt and a rosy flush floods your cheeks in their place. You sob, and the sound is muffled.

“It’s because you had a good time. Good experiences paint you in all kinds of different ways. You just have to open your eyes to see them. All those colors. Wait a bit before you can try ‘em all out. It takes time, doesn’t it?”

You nod, and you do it so many times that your head spins, whimpering at the sudden lightness that your body welcomes. Yoongi hugs you, enclasps you in his arms. The blanket falls to the ground and it’s his body that keeps you warm, the ghost shoved away. You continue to cry until not one cloud fits in your ribcage, Yoongi’s words being the bodies that settle there, cleaning up the disorder they left there. Bodies speckled with the same glitter he talked about, myriads of silver, violet and blue flakes spelling the abbreviation of his name: MYG.

I have glitter inside of myself.

You repeat it to yourself as your lungs calm down, regular breaths soothing your fragile form still held by Yoongi. He caresses the back of your head, fingers smoothing down your hair, making sure it cascades down your back in one singular stream.

Lifting your head like a toddler on its belly, you do the same for Yoongi. You brush his hair away from his face, thumb stopping to caress at his cheek. Yoongi puckers his lips at you, hauls you a bit further upwards on his body. Mimics you again, fondling your cheek blooming with a new color.

“No matter what you do with whoever you choose, you’ll always be a good girl,” he murmurs, the pad of his thumbs flicking away the last teardrops under your eyes, swiping tenderly across the intricate fan of your wet eyelashes.

You believe him, so you nod, chin quivering with another onrush of emotions but nothing comes out. You don’t say it, but you have a confidence in the notion that your body will be eternally his.

And you ponder it in your brain, softly, as Yoongi leans over and sets a tangerine down on the top of his chest. You come to terms with it being the current reality while he peels it for you. And you fully believe it and accept it when he feeds you the half moons. One by one, painting the walls of your mind with the faintest color of orange—the very reflection of a morning sunlight pouring in.

A solid peace, no longer peculiar, steps over the threshold of that suddenly illuminated room, and it doesn’t leave this time. It swings the door closed, the sound of the click the very announcement of stability coming to stay.

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