#Oh also luci gets a slap too
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Dancing With the Devil | Diavolo x Reader
AFAB! Reader | 5.5K Words
This takes place during the first year of the exchange program. MC is shy and a little awkward around their long time crush, Diavolo only to find his feelings are fully reciprocated in a dance of passion
CW: Explicit sex
*If this story is familiar I had it on my previous blog and it’s on my wattpad*
"I'm sure I can get some kind of sexual gratification just by staring if I try hard enough," you mumbled as you leaned on the palace counter gossiping with Asmo.
He laughed and patted you on the back.
"I've been trying for that one for a while," he sighed, admiring the prince, letting his eyes linger over his v-line.
"Such a sexy outfit, too," you sighed, and Asmo nodded.
You and the brothers and other exchange students were attending a spring ball at the castle, watching Diavolo laugh with Lucifer, Barbatos, and a few nobles you didn't recognize. Beelzebub entered the kitchen then, and you quickly shut up about your little crush on the prince; however, Asmo did not.
"Each time I get cuddly with him, Lucifer brings out his whips."
"Oh yikes, ...you think he'd...?"
"Use them on you? I'm sure he'd only do that in the bedroom," he grinned wickedly, and you slapped his arm.
"You always say stuff like that about your own brothers, you weirdo," and he began to laugh while Beelzebub dug trough the fridge behind you both.
You turned around and watched him as he began stuffing things in his mouth.
"Umm...Beelzebub don't you think Lucifer will get mad?"
He turned around and tried to speak with his mouth full of food, but neither you or Asmo understood what he was trying to say.
"Beelzebub finish chewing first please," Asmo sighed, and Beelzebub swallowed everything down in one gulp, which was mildly impressive if not also terrifying.
"Whatcha doing in the kitchen with MC, hm?" Mammon asked as he strutted towards the three of you.
Beelzebub stood up, and Mammon jumped a little, having noticed his other brother from behind the kitchen island.
"Geez Beel, ya know yer gonna get in trouble with Luci-"
"What are you four doing in here?" you heard Lucifer growl, and you turned around nervously to look at Lucifer, Diavolo standing with an unamused face behind him.
"Uh-"
Before Mammon could finish talking, Lucifer glared him down, and Mammon ran from the room.
"Talking with my dear MC," Asmo smiles innocently, tilting his head to the side.
Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he looked at Beel.
"Beelzebub? What makes you think you can steal the food from Lord Diavolo's fridge?" He growled, and Asmo took your arms and led you from the room.
You nearly brushed Diavolo's arm as you passed, and he glanced at you for a moment. You could feel his eyes on you as you were lead back to your table.
Solomon, Simeon, Luke, Leviathan and Belphegor were sat at the table. Solomon was observing people while Luke and Simeon talked, Leviathan played on a portable game device, and Belphegor snored next to his plate.
"Beel's gonna eat full, huh?" Mammon asked, appearing from nowhere. Asmo glared at him and took his seat next to you, stroking your arm gently. Mammon was pissed off by this and sat on your other side, tugging your arm to lean into him, and you sighed.
"He really couldn't wait a few minutes until dinner was served, huh?"
"That's Beel for you," Belphegor murmured, half awake.
Levi nodded, not taking his eyes off his device.
You glanced back to where Diavolo has been and noticed he was no longer by Lucifer's side but welcoming latecomers.
Who would dare arrive late for a royal event? You rolled your eyes as he bent over the succubus's hand and kissed it as a formality. Hopefully, it was just a formality.
Lucifer dragged Beelzebub out from the kitchen and marched to your table while the other brothers tensed up at his arrival.
"But it was really good-"
"That is no reason to steal from his majesty," Lucifer barked, and Beel looked at the ground moping while Belphie rubbed his shoulder.
Lucifer turned his attention to you, sat between Asmo and mammon.
"This is not the seating arrangement, return to your seats," he ordered through grit teeth, and Mammon and Asmo reluctantly returned and waited in the right seats while Lucifer glared them down to make sure they all stayed in place.
"MC, Simeon, Luke, Solomon; my lord requests you dine at his table once dinner is served," Barbatos said with a bow as he approached the table.
Luke looked annoyed, but Simeon smiled as he was used to speaking with Diavolo. Solomon smiled, eyes closed as he likely plotted something, and you turned beet red.
Asmo snickered, and Lucifer glared.
"What is so amusing, Asmodeus? Is there something I should know about?" He interrogated, and Asmo raised his hands and shook his head.
"Of course not," he said sweetly and flicked his eyes to meet yours for a moment.
You felt your ears burning and tried not to express your nervousness. You were always able to disguise your nervousness around Diavolo. He was an amazing friend to you, but you couldn't deny the way he made you feel when you were in private.
Every time you saw him, you wondered if it would be your chance, if you ever got one. Unfortunately, tonight it would seem you'll be sitting by the angels as well, and you'd feel a lot worse for thinking such things about the future demon king when around them.
Lucifer looked surprised by his lord's request as it wasn't originally planned but sighed and turned to you as you got up slowly and made your way to Diavolo.
Diavolo made the announcement dinner would be served, and everyone made their way to their assigned seats.
You weren't sure which one to take this time, but Diavolo pulled out the chair next to himself, and your heart skipped a beat as you sat down.
You smiled up at him and mouthed 'thank you' as he addressed the audience.
Barbatos announced what was being served, and there were whispers of excitement around the room as the butlers and kitchen servers walked out in line to bring each table its meal.
Everyone resumed their conversations, and Diavolo smiled at you. You smiled back, hoping you weren't blushing and your eyes lit up in excitement as the food reach your table.
Diavolo chuckled, and you gave him an inquisitive look.
"And just what’s so funny?" He teased.
"Your eyes light up exactly as Beelzebub's do whenever you are served food here," he observed, and you blushed.
"Well who doesn't like food?"
"Everyone likes food, MC, you just like it a lot," Luke agreed, and you sighed in defeat.
Simeon and Luke silently prayed over their meal while Solomon, Diavolo, and you dug in. "The last time we ate here, Solomon nearly killed us," you reminisced, and a shiver went down everyone's spine, even Diavolo looked disturbed by the memories.
Solomon just chuckled to himself, still smiling.
"And Asmo didn't even warn us," Luke mumbled.
"Speaking of Asmodeus, MC, you seem quite fond of him?" Diavolo asked.
"D-Diavolo?" You gasped and Simeon laughed.
"What? Is it not common knowledge?"
You turned to the others and asked, "does it seem like Asmo, and I are fond of each other?"
They each nodded, as did Barbatos when he approached to take his seat in Diavolo's other side.
"What? No way we aren't like that at all? He's like a gal pal sort of person to me. He does my hair and nails and we gossip and talk about boys and stuff - it's really nothing romantic at all-" you explained hurriedly, and Simeon laughed.
"So you talk about boys you've met here in the Devildom then?" Solomon pressed, and your face was visibly red.
"Well-I-"
Luke seemed annoyed, but the others were amused. You turned around and mouthed 'Hel͏p me' to the brothers' table where most of them were watching you intently.
Asmo gave a thumbs up, and you wanted to murder him; that was such a clear sign he knew something about one of the men at the table, and Diavolo caught onto it as he gave you an amused grin.
You facepalmed and stuffed your face with food to avoid the topic.
Diavolo asked Simeon, Luke, and Solomon about purgatory hall, studying methods, people at the school, everything you would normally ask an exchange student. So why did he ask you something so blunt? Was it just because it came up?
As soon as you heard Diavolo's hearty laugh, you were filled with an intense desire. This time purely romantic, he was so hot and so adorable, how could you possibly keep yourself away from this man.
"MC, I'm quite surprised I must admit that the brothers have not attempted to claim you in some way?" Diavolo suddenly brought up, much to everyone else’s surprise.
"What the-? If I may ask my lord why is it you seem so curious about my love life or lack thereof," you nearly choked on your food as the other watched in amusement, including Barbatos, who gave a knowing grin.
"You are our only,” he glanced at Solomon “…regular human exchange student, so it had me quite curious is all, especially since they've all changed so much since meeting you," he excused. Solomon gave him a confused and offended look but he ignored him in favor of watching your reaction.
Once your meal was finished, you awkwardly made your way back to the brothers, where Lucifer intercepted you and pulled you to the side out of sight.
"What were you speaking of with lord Diavolo," he demanded to know.
"For some reason my love life-"
Lucifer was red with anger, "why would you discuss such a thing!? Honestly MC I expected better of you-"
"He brought it up!" You exclaimed, and he was taken aback.
"What?"
"Yeah, and he kept bringing it back up, trust me I tried to avoid it."
"Why would he do such a thing, how was it brought up?"
"He said Asmo and I seemed close; I don't know?"
He hummed to himself, looking to the side and spun around, making his way to Diavolo, who smiled seeing his friend, and his face became confused when he saw how upset Lucifer seemed to be. You weren't sure what was said, but he simply laughed at his friend and patted his shoulder while Lucifer seemed to be angrily relaying what you'd said. You sighed, hoping you didn't seem like a tattletale. Just then Asmo linked his arm through yours and dragged you even deeper into the shadows of the empty hallways.
"Asmo, what the heck?"
"He so likes you!" He whisper shouted, and you blushed.
"Huh!?"
"I can tell these things MC you know that, you so have to do something. I can't believe you could totally get laid by the prince tonight!"
You turned red and jumped, slapping a hand over Asmo's mouth.
"What the hell, Asmo!?"
"Don't think I forgot about what you told me earlier; sexual gratification and all that, my charm may not work on you, but I know it's what you desire," he teased and smirked leaning in closer to you.
"Asmodeus, MC," you heard Diavolo's voice boom loudly through the halls though he spoke normally. Lucifer followed him closely and glared daggers at Asmodeus.
"Asmo, a word," Lucifer hissed, and Asmo winked at you and pranced after Lucifer.
You were left in the shadows alone with Diavolo, who smiled down at you.
"Did you need to ask me something?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else to say.
"I thought I'd tell you how lovely you look tonight, MC. I'm sure many will be eager to dance with you at the ball."
You blushed and looked away.
"Probably just the brothers like last time, or Solomon..." you thought aloud, and he smiled.
"You've done so much for this exchange program, and for the pillars so far, I cannot think of many ways to express my gratitude but perhaps sharing the first dance of the night with me could prove it to you in some way," he offered, and you gasped.
"R-really? But I have no idea how to dance, I'll be humiliated, and you'll be embarrassed by me-"
"Now why would I be embraced by you, MC, I'm quite proud of you, actually."
"You are?"
"Of course. Did I not just mention how much you've done for the brothers?"
You looked away shyly, extremely happy on the inside, and nodded.
He laughed at how cute you were being and held out his hand for you to take. You took it without questions, and he led you to an empty room.
"Where are we going?"
"The piano room.”
"You have an entire room for a piano?"
"But of course. Where else should I put such a prized possession?" You laughed at his surprised face, as if it were very common to have a room specifically for an instrument.
"So..."
"Why are you going there?" He read your thoughts, "the first dance does not start for an hour. I thought perhaps we could practice our dance to ease your nerves. Quite frankly, I'd also like to get to know you better, and I believe this is a better place to do so then somewhere people will circle around me or in a long dark hallway."
You chuckled and agreed and noticed his eyes light up a bit when he heard your laugh. The same way you always reacted when you heard his. Was it stupid to think whatever feelings you had could come to fruition? This man was ruler of the demons, the next devil himself; and you...you were a struggling human college student with a lot of issues.
After turning through many corridors and climbing several stairs which admittedly exhausted you, especially in heels, you reached two large doors and were surprised by the interior when he pushed them open.
"This isn't the piano room," you stated, and he blushed.
"I did intend to bring you there, but...I believe the view from my balcony is a much better place to dance and to talk." He said, seeming a little embarrassed, and you walked by his king-sized bed and to his balcony through two huge glass doors.
He was right. The view was breathtaking, and you smiled in awe. He watched you adoringly as you twirled, attempting to look innocently beautiful, but instead, you fell over.
He rushed to your side as you laughed at yourself to stop you from crying for embarrassing yourself like that in front of your crush.
"MC, are you alright?" He asked and lifted your dress to check your ankle. He looked it over and determined it wasn't injured in any way.
He helped you to your feet, and you hid your face in his chest, still blushing like mad. He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"As much as I'd love to dance with you, I'm way too embarrassed to do something like that in front of everyone..." you mumbled sadly.
He detected the sadness in your voice and nodded, understanding your decision. Humans could be so fragile and so easily embarrassed; it was a little entertaining.
"There is still an hour until my presence is required, is there something else you'd like to do? Perhaps we could take a stroll in my garden? Or I could show you the view from the highest point in the castle," he suggested.
"I don't understand why you're being so kind to me, Diavolo. Shouldn't you be meeting with nobles and hosting and such," you trailed off, and he tilted your head to look at him, cupping your cheek and smiling sadly.
"I've done so for thousands of years. I can afford to miss an hour," he comforted, and you brightened up.
"Okay, if you're sure," you smiled, and he nodded and took your hand in his leading you away from the balcony.
"Then what do you have in mind, MC?" He asked with a somewhat mischievous smile, and you felt the butterflies doing backflips in your stomach as you stammered.
"I-I don't know. Is there something you'd like to do?"
"Why, yes, there is. Though I'll need your consent," he smiled, and your heartbeat erratically.
"Of course," you agreed, not a hundred percent certain what he'd ask but hopeful.
Every second you'd spent silently pining until that moment was worth it as he leaned into you, eyes closed, and sealed your lips together.
When you parted, you stared at him with joyful surprise, and he seemed relieved you weren't opposed.
"D-do you think we could do that again...for maybe like the whole hour?" You joked nervously. He laughed and agreed, this time leading you to his bed.
You sat on the edge heart beating out of your chest, and he sat next to you and brought your lips back to his.
You eased into the kiss, and he wrapped his arm around you to support you as he deepened the kiss. Your lips would only separate a brief moment before reuniting desperately. Diavolo's hand squeezed your waist, and you could feel his long black nails as he pushed you backwards into the mattress. You let his tongue slip past your lips, wisely giving him immediate access. The prince was likely never denies anything, and besides, you didn't want to deny him. This was heaven in the middle of hell.
As his tongue tangled with yours excitedly, he reached one hand to the waist of your dress and hiked the skirt up enough to reach for the waistline of your tights and began slipping them off. That's when you could confirm this was going to be more than kissing, and your thoughts began to race uncontrollably as your tights and heels came off together. He wasted no time in slipping off your underwear, and you shivered at the cold air against your inner thighs. You gave him a confused look, and he laughed lightheartedly.
"I assume you don't want to wear wet underwear for the rest of the night?" He chuckled, and you turned red and agreed as he brought your lips back to his. He slid his hands under your dress and held your waist, pressing it against his.
He was still fully clothed, and you didn't find it fair. As if he could genuinely read your mind, he transformed back into his demon-self, his natural self. You admired his silky red hair and, for some reason, very sexy horns as he continued to kiss you. He bit your lip playfully and left a trail of kisses from your mouth to your neck, sensually kissing about the collarbone, sucking, licking, and biting the exposed skin.
You moved your hands to his bare chest, feeling his muscles and sift skin and purred happily to yourself. He left your mouth for a moment, just long enough to remove his fur infinity scarf and his jewelry, placing them delicately on the dresser by his bed where he retrieved a condom. He looked back and you and stared before you realized you were still spreading your legs completely exposed.
"D-Diavolo," you stuttered, and he chuckled to himself and slid off his leather boots and baggy pants, revealing his demon form had no underwear underneath, and you bit your lip staring at his firm ass.
"Why don't we remove that dress before it gets ruined," he suggested though it was more of a firm request.
You nodded and unzipped the back enough to slip it off. He crawled back onto the bed in front of you and placed you on his leg, bringing his lips back to yours as he unhooked and slid off your bra.
He threw back the covers and covered your exposed back with a sheet. The curtains were closed, and the door was locked, but he still seemed precautious with you. Just in case Lucifer angrily threw open the door, suspecting you both.
He placed one hand in the small of your back, and the other held the back of your head as his lips trailed back to your neck. His hands began to roam your body and feel your curves, squeeze your hips, delicately brush the pads of his fingers down your spine. You were surprised how delicate this giant of a man could be, and you realized he must have experience. You grew hotter at the idea and began kissing his neck as he left hickeys on yours. Your lips let slip a soft moan, and his grip on your hips tightened as he flipped you over, underneath him again, chests mere inches apart. He was trying to control his breathing, but his heavy breaths were an indicator he was struggling to hold back instead of taking you immediately. But he knew this wouldn’t just be painful in general but would be even worse for a fragile human. His fingers brushed over your cheek, and he turned his attention to your chest. His eyes lingering for several seconds before he supported his weight with one hand and used the other to lightly massage your breast. His wings flapped for a brief second, giving away his excitement, and you moved your hands to the back of his neck, bringing him closer to you. He met your eyes; his were serious and curious. He was concentrating hard on not harming you and looking for any signs of fear or hesitation in your expressions, but your smile was enough to ease him. He moved his mouth to your chest careful not to hit your face with his protruding horns, and you tilted your head back to avoid them as you ran your hand through his hair, massaging his head as he began trailing his tongue around your tit, squeezing it lightly with his hand before taking it in-between his teeth.
You squirmed and whimpered, and he looked up to make sure you weren't in pain, but your gentle moans as he continued reassured him you'd be fine.
You were so caught up in the way he made you feel you realized you weren't verbally encouraging him or telling him what felt best, which would likely help him instead of him cautiously taking each step so slowly. "Diavolo," you moaned softly, face heated, and he paused.
"Don't stop, you feel so good," you encouraged, and his small bites around your tits became a bit harder before he moved to the breast that'd been left unattended. Normally he'd massage one while licking the other, but his weight was too much for a human. He switched hands and twirled his thumb around the areola as you continued to moan his name.
"MC," his voice deepened as he moaned, and your heart leaped. For so long you wanted to hear him moan your name, now you were under his sheets, your bodies entangled as he moved his hand down between your thighs.
You felt his finger brush against your opening and moaned, body pleading for more contact. He let your squirm and laughed as you did so, entertained by your neediness. He inserted a finger slowly and was pleased to find you were already very wet.
"Do you want me that badly, dear?" He asked, and you blushed but nodded, biting your lip. He found this sexy and keeping his hand between your legs he kissed your lips, propping himself up as he pulled back the sheets to get a better look at you. Hit by the cold air again, you shivered and moaned. He moved his eyes over your body before looking at himself, hoping you'd follow his eyes, which of course, you did.
You weren't just surprised by his size but legitimately scare and full of many questions.
"Umm-that's?"
"Will you be alright," he asked teasingly, and you nodded, red-faced.
It had to be a little more than twelve inches in length, and you weren't sure how much you were even capable of taking in. His dick was a sight to behold, and one reason was it certainly wasn't human, the veins were thick, and the shaft had small circular bumps that acted like barbs. Once he was inside of you entirely, he wouldn't be able to pull out until he came. The condom he'd grabbed earlier would likely prevent this, but of course, you couldn't tell. Each time you opened your mouth, all that came out was a moan.
You nearly formed words until he inserted a second finger inside of you, and his other hand pushed your head into his chest. You ran your hands over his pecs and left small kisses on his collarbone and chest. A moan built in his throat, and he rested his head atop yours as he made a scissoring motion with his fingers. You squeezed your legs together, and he grinned as you squirmed in his embrace. He tightened his grip around you and inserted a third finger. His fingers were long and large, and the pointed black nails scratched lightly against your inner walls in all the right places. As he inserted a fourth finger, he moved his thumb to your clit and began massaging it in circles. You were a mewling mess in his grasp, and he let out an instinctive grunt.
He was desperately holding himself back as he pumped his fingers in and out quickly. He moaned your name into your hair and kissed the top of your head, gritting his teeth together, pumping faster and faster until a wave of heat ran through your body, and your eyes squeezed shut in the intensely pleasurable warmth. He felt you cum over his fingers and grinned wickedly. He held your stare as he raised his fingers to his lips and sucked off your juices, you blushed furiously, shocked that the prince had this kind of side to him. His grin was loving but also a little sadistically curious. Probably because he was about to fuck your lights out. He licked his lips and moved his hand back between your legs, still holding your gaze lovingly.
"MC," he began in a husky voice that made you shiver.
"Y-yes?"
"Do you think you can take me within you now?" His words were drawn out and held back an anxious growl.
You nodded, though you were unsure.
"I see," he smiled and sat up quickly to retrieve and roll the condom over his length, though it didn't cover his shaft completely it would be enough to stop most cum from pouring into you, and the idea had you becoming wet again already.
Diavolo's eyes darted to the clock on his wall to make sure he had enough time and was pleasantly surprised he had more than enough time to make you squeal and scream beneath him.
He admired your form. A small human brave enough to let the demon prince slam his cock inside of them. They likely didn't know how hard it could be for them or the pricking pain of the barbs, but they were ready nonetheless. He moved over you and spread your legs apart, he admired your throbbing pussy and looked back to your trembling body, nervous but desperate for him, and he moved his hips to yours, the head of his dick pressed against you. He used one hand to spread your entrance apart enough to fit his head inside, and he mumbled to himself through grit teeth, "You're so tight-."
He slowly moved his dick deeper inside you, taking deep breaths not even halfway in to stop himself from suddenly bucking into you. He was big enough to make you bleed, and that's the last thing he wanted. He'd wanted to do this with you for so long, and seeing you completely unaware of Asmo's attempts on you that night made his temptation too much to hold back any longer. He wanted you himself, and he finally had you. This thought unintentionally made him buck his hips, his cock much deeper inside you now, and you let out a gasp that turned into a moan as your body instinctively bucked towards his.
Diavolo slowly began to pull back, pumping into you slowly at half-length, he used one hand to pinch and roll your clit between two fingers, making you wetter than you already were. You reached for him, and he blushed and leaned into you, finally ramming his hips into yours. You threw your head back and instantly came again much to his surprise. But he immediately gave you a playful smirk that had you the shade of blood in embarrassment. You moved your hands to clutch his hair, and he focused seriously again, moving back and forth slowly, pumping in and out, mumbling about how tight you were until his pace and strength picked up enough to throw your body forward. You were held against his hips as you and the bed shook with every thrust, the bed frame beginning to hit the wall loudly enough to echo down the halls. He spread your legs further apart, reaching deeper inside as he grunted and moaned, slamming his cock in and out of you as your body contorted in the sheets, nails digging into his head. Unable to properly grip his hair, your hands moved to his horns and kept them there.
You could feel the small barbs of his dick as they sent you to heaven and back, you could feel every vein as he pulsed inside you.
Your vision blurred for a moment as you screamed his name, unable to control yourself. Hips bucking together hard enough to bruise and break, you were a wailing mess beneath him. His movements became sloppy, and when he watched your face twist in pleasure as you came again, his delight sent him over the edge, and with one final buck of his hips you gasped for air as the barbs stopping scratching, and he slowly pulled out, condom overflowing with his semen.
You both paused a moment, breathing frantic and held each other's gaze. Diavolo reverted to his human form and crawled next to you, laying on his chest, hugging his pillow as he watched your pink face struggling to breathe. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your hair more tangled than a bird’s nest as your chest heaved, taking in as much air as it could while you came down from your high.
He chuckled as he watched you, unsure of what to say. He'd just completely broken his composure, he'd ignored his title and interfered in his own exchange program just to get a taste of you. But he still wanted more of you. He ran his hand through your loose strands of hair and moved them out of your face. He sat up and threw the sheets off his bed, leaving you exposed again. You struggled to sit up but fell back into the bed. He helped you up and carried you in his arms to his private bathroom. He sat you underneath the showerhead and left the room to get something. He came back with your folded clothes and sat them on the sink next to his.
"My hair and make up," you mumbled, and he laughed.
"That's an easy fix, dear," he soothed you and turned the warm water on as he joined you in the shower, washing off the sweat and everything else. He admired the bruises and bites he'd left on your skin and helped you stand up, leaning into his chest, he held your hips as you were unable to stand on your own.
You felt the water run over you, and Diavolo comb his fingers through your matted hair. You were both silent, not sure what to say.
"So..." you trailed off, hoping it'd prompt him to speak.
"So..." he replied, taking a moment to think of what to say next.
"Did you enjoy yourself," he asked, already knowing the answer but wanted to hear it from you as you nodded shyly in agreement.
"Ye-yes," you stammered, and he hugged you closer as he ran a bar of soap over your arms.
"Good, we should do this again soon," he added, and you jumped in surprise.
Really? Lord Diavolo, your crush, a future demon king, wanted to have sex with you?
"Really?"
"Yes....But can we agree on one thing," he asked as you finished washing.
"Yes?"
"Lucifer can never find out."
You both laughed and nodded before sweating at the idea of what he'd do to you both. Diavolo rubbed your back and helped you to the sink where you dried off, and he used a spell to redo your hair and makeup as it was, though he didn't bother hiding the marks he left on you.
You both returned to the party a few minutes before he was to make his entrance, but when people asked for you to dance, you had to decline even though Mammon seemed depressed at rejection. This was only because you'd done enough dancing that night. Just not the kind of dancing anyone expected.
#obey me shall we date#obey me diavolo#obey me lemon#obey me smut#omnsfw#obey me diavolo smut#omswd diavolo#omswd diavolo smut#obey me diavolo x reader#obey me asmodeus#obey me lucifer
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Got any ideas for the demon bros with an MC who can carry them?
The Demon Bros with an MC who likes to carry them
Demon Bros x Gender Neutral Reader (separately)
Genre: Fluff
Content/Warnings: Mammon being a dumb tsundere, Asmo’s innuendos, Reader is a big strong sweetheart, very brief and small mentions of NSFW
Not fully proof read, let me know if you see any errors!
Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio!
Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out
Feed back is encouraged and appreciated:)
*Asmodues uses he/she pronouns
Lucifer
Oooohhh man
Luci is, to put it bluntly, quite startled the first time you pick him up
He’s used to thinking of humans as these fragile, puny little things
So this was…jarring
“W-What do you think you’re doing, human?!”
He’s used to being the one in charge, being the big domineering force
So to suddenly be made to feel so small and frail is so foreign
It puts butterflies in his stomach in a way he cannot explain and has never experienced before
“Put me down, foolish human! …Why? B-Because I cant have anyone see me like this!”
But he’ll think about it for days after
He won’t ask for you to do it again, but if you do he’ll fight you significantly less
He’ll grumble, but he won’t thrash in surprise
“I don’t understand why you insist on doing this…No, that does not mean put me down. If you like it then…continue.”
Once he gets more comfortable with the idea he’ll start “asking” you to pick him up
I put “asking” in quotes because he’ll really just hug you tight and whine and hope you get what he’s asking
If you don’t, he’ll get frustrated and simply demand it
It feels so nice to be held and carried, to finally be the one being supported
To be lifted off his aching feet and give his body a break
He needs more of that
His favorite time to be held is after a long day
Especially if you carry him to his bed
He’ll cuddle into your chest and cling to you until you put him down
Please stay and lay next to him
Please
Mammon
Nearly shits his pants he’s so scared
“WOAH WOAH WOAH HOLY SHIT! PUT ME DOWN DUMBASS!”
Kicks and flails like you’re holding him over the side of a cliff
Hold him a bit tighter and shush him and he’ll calm down
Only for a few moments though
Then the embarrassment sets in, and his face goes red hot at the close proximity
“Okay, okay! Y-You’ve had yer fun! Now put me down before somethin’ bad happens, ya idiot…”
Crosses his arms and huffs as you put him down
Like Lucifer, he won’t stop thinking about it for days
Won’t do anything in front of his brothers, he couldn’t take the teasing
But in private he’s much more open
He’ll plop himself in your lap and simply demand to be carried
And if you’re alone in the House of Lamentation he loves to be held while you do stuff around the house or just walk around
He’s always looking for an excuse to jump into your arms as well
“I think I saw a demon rat! What? N-No, I’m not scared, I just don’t wanna get bit! Those things are wicked good at hiding, so maybe you should hold me for a while, just in case!”
Likes to be held against your chest the most, but if you throw him over your shoulder (especially if you’re going up to the bedroom for…alone time) he’ll get so flustered his brain shuts down
Give his ass a playful slap too
You’ll have him wrapped around your finger
Leviathan
Nearly flatlines
Red faced immediately
Melts when he looks up to see you smiling down at him
A thousand anime scenes of this scenario are flashing through his head guarantee it
He tries to speak but it just comes out as whimpers and stutters
Physically cannot form words
So instead he gives up on speaking and just throws his arms around your neck
He can’t say a word or look you in the eyes, but he’s definitely not protesting
He might be trembling a bit, though
Don’t worry, it’s good nervousness
You make him nervous in the best way
“O-Oh my stars…I-I didn’t…this is…woah….”
Poor sweet baby is flabbergasted
Assure him he’s okay and that you won’t drop him, and then he’ll calm down a bit
“I’ve imagined being swooped up by a brave hero before, but…this is even better!”
His love language is definitely physical touch, so he enjoys not only being held and cuddles but carried as well
Especially if you talk down to him sweetly
Oh, he’ll look up at you with the most love drunk expression
He’s definitely the most forward about wanting to be held
He’ll sit on your lap or if he’s really desperate even jump up and wrap his legs around you
“Will you, um…p-please carry me? You don’t have to, I-I just…really want to right now…”
He WILL reach up and do the cute little grabby hands
And he WILL say “pwetty pwease” if he has to
He loves his strong human
Satan
One of the more nonchalant reactions
He’s a bit surprised at first, but doesn’t really mind it
“Oh, what are you— Human? Is this some kind of game? …No? Hm, alright then.”
Once he’s ascertained that you don’t need anything and simply wanted to pick him up, he’s done asking questions
As long as you let him read while you hold him bridal style, he’s all good
It’s quite nice, being rocked by your steps and small movements while he gets back into his book
He’ll blush a bit if one of his brothers sees, but he doesn’t care enough to make you put him down
If you have this skill, you may as well use it
And you like carrying him too, so it’s a win-win!
Every once in a while he’ll plant himself on your lap and ask to be carried, but he doesn’t particularly desire it, so he’ll simply wait for you to do it if you’d like
He’ll gladly oblige any time
Asmodeus
Squeals in delight the first time you pick him up
She’s simply giddy with excitement at this newfound ability!
“Oh, human! You’re so strong! You know I loooove being manhandled…”
His mind wanders to the gutter very quickly, so be ready for that
Jumps into your ames whenever he sees you
He’s the shortest/smallest one, so it’s not like it’s particularly jarring or anything
She’s always taking you to stores with her so you can lift her up and help her get stuff from the top shelves
“Oh dear, those shoes are so high up! Could you be a dear and lift me? Pretty please?”
Giggles like a schoolgirl with a crush whenever you lift her
He’s pretty much always clinging to you, even if he doesn’t have a good reason
He’s shameless
And he wants what he wants
And he is going to make it everyone else’s problem until he gets it
So be a good little human and hold her, okay?
Beelzebub
Definitely the most unbothered
Doesn’t even stop eating his snack
It’s a bit odd seeing as he’s used to being the biggest and strongest, but it’s definitely not bad
Doesn’t crave to be held, but also doesn’t dislike it
If you want to carry him, feel free to do whenever you’d like! No need to ask
He trusts you enough to hold him tight without so much as a word
Which is good since 60% of the time he can’t even say words with all that food in his mouth
“You wanna carry me? Uh…can I ask why? ‘Just because?’ Alright then, but I’m not putting down my sandwich, okay?”
He’s pretty good at picking up on emotions, so to him it’s plain as day that it makes you happy
And it makes him to happy to know you’re happy
So he gladly goes along with it
Because why shouldn’t he? It’s not hurting anything
Even if it was, he would readily accept the consequences if it meant seeing you smile
Belphegor
Oh this sleepy motherfucker is IN LOVE
Absolutely melts against you when you pick him up
Sighs happily and shit too
You’re so warm and he feels so secure in your arms, he could sleep here forever!
“Wow, this is so comfy…how much would I have to pay you to get carried around all day?”
You’ll gladly do it for free, don’t worry Belphie
He likes when you carry him while you walk, the steady movements of your steps lull him to sleep
90% of the time he’s asleep within the first two minutes of being held
He’s the best at asking to be held or carried to
“Hey, human, ‘m getting sleepy. Would you hold me until I fall asleep? I can’t get comfortable without you.”
Bonus points if you hum him a lullaby
He’ll fall asleep with a smile on his face
#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#obey me fluff#obey me headcanons#lucifer x reader#lucifer fluff#lucifer headcanons#mammon x reader#mammon fluff#mammon headcanons#leviathan x reader#leviathan fluff#leviathan headcanons#satan x reader#satan headcanons#satan fluff#asmodeus fluff#asmodeus x reader#asmodeus headcanons#beelzebub x reader#beelzebub headcanons#beelzebub fluff#belphegor x reader#belphegor headcanons#belphegor fluff
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Sunsets and footballers (Part 3)
Lucy Bronze x Reader (3)
Masterlist (other parts here)
Jordan had a big smile on her face when she saw YFN. She pulled over at the front of her hotel and put the window down.
“Allo mate, need a lift?”
“I don’t have any money, sorry.”
Jordan opened her mouth in an amused and fake offended ‘O’. “You’re takin’ the mick.”
YFN laughed and slid into the passenger seat. “Do you charge by the hour or…?”
Jordan laughed loudly and slapped her arm. “Too expensive for you, mate.”
She began driving. YFN loved seeing this side of Jordan. The side that seemed much more natural, and much more of the Jordan that Lucy was describing last night.
“Wherrrrrre are we going?”
“I was thinking coffee and then shopping? Also, I’m assuming you don’t have any football gear to wear to the game tomorrow?”
“Hm, you are correct there.”
“Oh, Lucy is going to love seeing you in a Bronze jersey.”
YFN blushed and looked over, surprised.
“What? She loves seeing people in her jersey. Plus, you don’t know anybody else on the team, do you?”
“That’s a negative, and what number is she?”
“2.”
“Oh, my favourite. Okay, let’s get a Bronze jersey. Should we get the home or away kit?”
Jordan laughed. “Wow, look at you! Someone’s been doing their research!”
YFN grinned. “I love blue but the internet says something about it being a bad luck kit…?”
“Oh poppycock. Blue would be perfect with your eyes.”
YFN laughed. “Oh, and I also want an Australian flag.”
Although they only planned on a few hours, the two spent all day together. The atmosphere was great, they both bantered like they’d known each other for years. They wandered around town with iced drinks, stopped for breakfast, then lunch, and Jordan even taught her how to kick a soccer ball on an empty pitch, as well as teaching her some rules. YFN did try to incorporate some tackles to which Jordan gave her red cards for. They collected some free merchandise for the game from people in the club who Jordan knew and managed to find an Australian flag also. The day was fantastic, and of course they ended it on the beach with some fish and chips, Jordan making YFN try it with curry sauce. It confused the hell out of her, but she admitted it was decent.
The next day Jordan picked up YFN again early and they went for lunch. They had decided the day before that they wanted to catch up earlier before they headed to the game. At lunch, Jordan asked YFN about her job and what she did. She was a writer and loved to write fantasy. She’d been working for a newspaper before she left and had a very popular daily column with a lot of fans, but she left because she lost her passion for it. And so, she decided to travel to gain inspiration and get back into writing fantasy with the hope of publishing and travelling the world. Jordan was wowed by this and admitted to wishing she had the creativity for it. About five minutes later though, it seemed she had completely forgotten the conversation though, and had to ask again. YFN laughed, this had happened a few times with her the day before and so she lovingly gave Jordan the nickname ‘Dory’.
The seats for the game were in the perfect spot, just adjacent to where the team benches were. The two were dressed up, laughing at their awkwardness as they made their way down to their seats with arms of popcorn, hotdogs, and drinks. They reached their seats and were greeted by a loud man and his adorable family. YFN didn’t need a degree to figure out who it was. Jordan introduced him as Jorge Bronze, Lucy’s big brother, and his family. He gave Jordan a hug and kiss, and she picked up the kids and gave them kisses also. Jorge dragged YFN into a strong hug they took their seats next to them. It felt like a huge family affair and made YFNs heart swell with happiness. Her family life was not so joyful, and so this was a happy change. A few other friends came over to say hi to Jordan and she introduced them to YFN. They were friends, other football players, or partners of friends.
Shortly before the game, the teams ran out onto the field to warm up. The crowd seemed to yell extra loudly as Lucy came out onto the field, Jorge was the loudest of all. One kid in his arm and a drink in the other, he yelled at the top of his lungs “LUCYLUCY. LUCYLUCY.” Many people were yelling it like a chant, and Jorge recorded it for his social media. YFN couldn’t keep her eyes off of Lucy. She oozed confidence. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun, and she looked a bit different without her glasses, but a good different. YFN bit her lip, thinking her football gear was a welcome sight. She couldn’t help but see the muscles through her clothes, particularly the thigh muscles when she walked. Lucy jogged around without a care, chewing gum and laughing with her teammates. At one point in time, she even sat on a football and just watched as the others warmed up.
“Hey Dory, what’s she doing?” YFN asked Jordan.
Jordan leaned into YFN to yell over the crowd. “Who? Lucy? Oh, her knee is really bad. Like really, really bad. She’s had a lot of surgeries and she’s always in pain. She just tries to keep off it before and after games really.”
As if Lucy had heard them, she looked up and caught sight of her group. Her eyes wandered along her family who were crazily waving until she reached Jordan and YFN. She grinned when she saw YFN wearing her jersey with that little dimpled smile on her face. It suited her, she thought. Being in the crowd with her family and friends, wearing a Bronze jersey, and holding an Australian flag with pride. She and Jordan had painted the flag on their cheeks also, fully supporting their friend. Lucy wanted nothing more than to walk over and talk to them, but she knew she was supposed to be warming up. She settled for a big childish wave and re-joined her team.
Ten minutes later they left the field, Lucy waving at her section and grinning from ear to ear as she left. Soon enough after, the crowd roared as the teams entered the stadium, holding hands with their mascots. Lucy was last in line, swinging arms with her little mascot. They stood for the national anthems and after a quick team photo, the game was underway. YFN couldn’t tell if she was just biased, but it was pretty obvious to her that Lucy was the most intelligent on the field. When she didn’t see an opening she liked, she passed the ball back to the defender next to her who Jordan said was “Millie Bright – acting Captain.” She pushed up the field hard during the first half of the game, and very nearly scoring on several occasions.
“Wow, Lucy is ON FIRE today! LUCYLUCY!” Jorge shouted. “THAT’S MY SISTER!”
“I haven’t seen her play this good is a while!” Jordan shouted in YFN’s ear.
A long shot came towards the goal and Lucy was sprinting from nowhere, her speed was incredible. She leapt, heading the ball and the goalkeeper tipped it. The ball hit the crossbar and bounced back into play. One of Lucy’s teammates were in the perfect position for the rebound and struck the ball, side-netting it. The crowd groaned loudly.
“COME ON LESS!” Jordan yelled encouragingly.
“COME ON RUSSO! WHY IS LUCY OUR BEST STRIKER!” A yell came from behind them in the crowd.
YFN was confused. Jordan saw her confusion. “Lucy is a defender, not a striker. Not even a midfielder. She shouldn’t be the most dangerous striker for us today but she’s just playing so well. The other girls aren’t doing well enough to be honest.”
That made sense to her. Lucy was compensating for her team. All of her discussions with Jordan the day before about Lucy being overly competitive and not liking to lose were becoming more obvious. YFN loved it and joined in on the shouting for England’s number 2.
The whistle blew to signal half time and the scores were still 0-0. During the break the pair took Lucy’s niece and nephew up to the bathroom and brought back more snacks for the Bronze family. They settled back down when YFN noticed that Jordan was tense and uncomfortably shifting.
“What’s the matter?” YFN asked.
Jordan leant over to talk in her ear, not loud enough that anyone else would hear it. “My ex is here. A few rows behind us. She waved at me.”
YFN pulled back with wide, worried eyes. “Oh Jordan, are you okay?”
“I don’t know. We’re still friends and I think she’s a lovely person, but I just feel so uncomfortable right now. She going to want to try and speak to me after this.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“She going to try and speak to me like everything’s normal when it’s not. I don’t think I have the capacity.”
YFN put her arm around Jordan and pulled her close. “You need to tell her that you need space. Because right now, even though you’re replying the bare minimum to her, it’s still coming across like you’re okay to casually chat to her when you know you need your space to heal.”
“You’re right.” She groaned. “I just don’t want to come across nasty at all. She’s such a good person.”
“Protect yourself first. Heal a bit. And only then can you try to have normal conversations with her, hm?”
The teams came back out then, and the second half began. Jordan’s mood picked up as she was lost again in the screaming, but unlike YFN, she was yelling their names.
Lucy played even better the second half, giving so many chances to her teammates to score. She went down, hard at one point, literally tumbling over like a gymnast and the crowd seemed to think this was normal.
“NEVER A GOOD GAME UNLESS LUCY IS FLYING!”
“LUCIA!”
“LUCYLUCY!”
“BRONZEYYYYY!”
She got back up and jogged back over to her spot a bit stiffly. YFN was in awe of her resilience. Eventually the 90 minutes were up and they were given +2 minutes. Just when all seemed like it was about to be over, Lucy scored. And it was beautiful. Just like last time she came sprinting from absolutely nowhere however this time she volleyed the ball into the net, hard. So hard the net must have broken. The stadium erupted, they all leapt to their feet screaming at the top of their lungs. Jordan and YFN grabbed each other, jumping up and down. Popcorn flew all around. Lucy was bombarded by her teammates leaping onto her. Looking up at the big screen, YFN could better see the massive grin spread across her face. Of course she scored.
“GOAL FOR ENGLAND NUMBER 2, LUCY BRONZE!”
The stadium erupted again.
Play resumed for the last 20 seconds, and the whistle ended the match to a stadium still cheering for Lucy.
Jorge was again filming on his phone, kid in one arm and phone in the other. “AW TOO BAD SO SAD.” He cackled as he filmed the other team. YFN laughed at the absurdity of it. She looked around at the packed stadium. It was all insane.
“AND YOUR PLAYER OF THE MATCH IS… LUCY BRONZE!”
Lucy received even more yelling and applauses. She shook hands with both teams and then was dragged into an interview on the pitch while her teammates signed autographs and gave out some of their match worn gear to the crowd. When Lucy finished the interview, she immediately hobbled over to her section and jumped up to lean over the barriers. Jorge and her family got to her first and pulled her into big hugs and kisses. They took some selfies and then Lucy moved over to grab Jordan into an all-encompassing hug.
“I’m so proud of you.” Jordan cried, tears welling. Lucy grinned and pulled back, looking at YFN and opening her arms cheekily. YFN laughed and wrapped her arms around her in a tight, warm hug. Of course, Lucy’s hugs were amazing.
“I’m sorry, I probably don’t smell the best right now.”
“You smell like success to me.” YFN kept holding tight for as long as Lucy was, though Lucy was doing the same. They both gave up eventually so as to not give any wrong impressions to photographers or the crowd around them.
“Nice jersey. Would you like me to sign it?”
“Depends, how much would it be worth?”
Lucy rolled her eyes and took a sharpie from her brother. She shifted YFN’s hair back gently to sign her jersey over her collarbone. She couldn’t help but notice YFNs perfume. The same perfume that was on her hoody when she had given it back a few days before. A shiver went up her spine as she tried to focus on writing neatly.
“Mine too please!” Jordan quipped. Lucy signed her jersey also.
“Oh, and this please!” YFN held up her Australian flag. Lucy grinned, rolling her eyes again and signed her flag. YFN couldn’t help but stare at her, the big grin taking over her face, her hair curling at the sides where she’d been sweating, and those big green eyes. They locked eyes for a moment but both broke contact almost immediately as it affected them both so intensely. No way would they be able to keep it normal in front of so many people. They felt each other shiver and saw each other smile. Nobody seemed to notice.
“I hear there’s a dinner party tonight!” Jorge almost yelled.
“Ohhhh yeah. Family and friends. I told them you’d all be there. You’re all coming, right?” She looked at Jordan a little worried, presumably because her ex would be there.
Jordan looked at YFN. “Stuff it. Yeah, we’ll be there.”
#lucy bronze#jordan nobbs#engwnt#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso community#woso soccer#womens football#lionesses#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze imagine
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Scarecrow
Serial killer Farmer Joel x f!reader
(Part of the In every lifetime universe, takes place before so like 1965 making Joel early 40s in this)
Warnings: Dead Dove : Gore/horror, Joel is a serial killer = he kills ppl, smut, noncon, virginity loss, inappropriate use of farm equipment, death/no survivors, oral (f receiving), dead bodies, dismemberment, slapping(face & pussy), 1 head flying, i believe that’s it, again Joel is a very bad man in this.
Summary: It’s almost Halloween! You and your friends decide to go to Farmer Joel’s corn maze for some spooky fun! Except your boyfriend is being a dick and starts to poke fun at Joel, ruining the fun. For you and your friends at least.
A/n: @multiversed-daydreamer this one’s for you babe! I took heavy inspo from Texas Chainsaw Massacre and elements from various slasher movies. This is very much a horror movie in words. This is dark and fucked up. ⚠️ Proceed with caution ⚠️
‘Two more bodies found’ ‘The fifth victim found in connection to string of disappearances’
The headlines of every newspaper and the topic of every whispered conversation around town has you on high alert. There’s been a total of what? Seven victims now? You think. No one’s sure who’s doing it but every other day it’s the same story. Someone goes missing, a few days later their body pops up, tied to a post in a field, dressed up as a scarecrow. Only except these “scarecrows” have their throats slit, multiple stab wounds and more times than not, missing limbs. To say you are terrified is an understatement. These murders have been happening for the past three years, always during the fall too.
As you sit at your kitchen table, sipping your morning coffee, your phone starts to ring. Getting up to go pick the phone up off the receiver, phone still attached by a curly cord, you answer.
“Heyyyy girly!! You already know who it is!! So guess where we are going tonight!” You hear your best friend Lucy shout into the other end of the phone.
“Lucy what are you talking about? Going where? Do you not see the news? I’m not about to go anywhere and risk dying.” You reply with a giggle, knowing damn well these murders aren’t going to stop you or her from going out and having fun.
Laughing out loud, “Well we’re going to drum roll please!” Clap,clap,clap sounds through the phone, “We’re going to Farmer Joel’s corn maze!!” Lucy all but shouts. “Annnddd you should totally invite your little boy toy Brad!” She adds with mischievousness in her voice.
“Lucy! Oh my god stop!” You giggle, “Brad and I aren’t even official yet! We’ve only gone on one date.” You say as blush begins to cover your cheeks. You all used to go to high school together. Brad was the star quarterback on the football team. You and your group of friends kept to yourselves. So when you moved back after college, you were surprised when you ran into Brad at the grocery store and started talking. That’s when he asked you out on a date. Nothing crazy special just dinner and the two of you catching up. Afterwards he awkwardly kissed you goodnight as he dropped you off at your house.
“Ooh and I think Frank and Janet are also coming too! It’s gonna be so much fun! Okay be ready by 7!” Lucy exclaims.
“Okay ill see you then!!” You say before hanging the phone back on the receiver that’s hanging on the wall.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
By the time 6 o’clock came around, you’d already been ready to go. Your anxiety never allowing you to just chill. Dressed in your favorite knee length blue floral dress and white cardigan paired with your favorite pair of Mary Jane shoes. You were ready for a fun night with your friends and potential new boyfriend.
Before you knew it, you heard knocking on your door. Standing up from the couch, you smooth out your dress and grab your purse that you place across your body as you go to answer the door.
Opening the door, you reveal Brad standing there wearing his high school lettermen’s jacket, looking quite handsome. “Hey Brad!” You say as you walk out the door, shutting it closed behind you.
“Well hey there cutie pie. You ready to go out to Farmer Joel’s corn maze? Maybe we’ll get lost in there.” He says, winking suggestively at you.
You slap him on the shoulder playfully, “Oh my god Brad you are so silly. Even if we do, we won’t be alone!” You say as you try to let him down easily. As much as you do like him, you aren’t ready to do anything sexual with him. After all you’re still a virgin. The two of you walk hand in hand to his car where your other friends Lucy, Frank and Janet are waiting.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
The sun is starting to set as you pull up to Farmer Joel’s place. He lives out in the middle of nowhere with tons of acres. He moved to Chesterfield about 5 or so years ago and ever since, every fall he always does a corn maze and hay rides for everybody. The hayrides ended about an hour ago and soon the corn maze will be closed for the night as well. You and your friends have about an hour to enjoy the maze and make it out before closing. Most of the families that came out tonight are leaving already probably due to the chill in the air. Still you can’t help but notice how sparse the crowd is as you and your friends walk up to the corn maze.
Joel’s standing off to the side of the maze entrance, looking rather intimidating in his overalls and steal toed boots. He’s chatting with a couple who just came out of the maze when he looks in your direction. For a split second you swear he was looking into your soul. You couldn’t help but feel a chill creep up your spine.
“Hey buddy! How are you doing old farmer Joel? Looking good for your age. How old are you? 65?” Brad says as he starts laughing expecting everyone to join in. Your friends give a tiny giggle, not really sure why Brads picking on Joel for his age.
The couple Joel was talking too just rolled their eyes at Brad and said their goodbyes to Joel before walking away.
“Very funny kid. I see you’ve got jokes. Tell me, how’s life post high school? Do anything worth mentioning or are you still stuck reliving your wonder years?” Joel bites back, not taking this stupid punks shit.
“Hey man fuck you. I was the best damn quarterback Chesterfield High has ever seen! What the fuck have you ever done? Huh?” Brad retorts back.
“Brad stop it. You’re being an ass. Come on let’s go through the maze before it closes. I’m so sorry Mister Joel don’t pay him any mind.” You chastised Brad while also apologizing to Joel for brad for being such a child.
Joel just stares at you again, seemingly penetrating your very soul. You swear he can see inside your mind. He just grunts and lifts his chin towards you as you grab Brad by the hand and drag him into the maze.
The maze itself isn’t terribly long but the aisle you have to walk through is rather small. You and Brad lead the group while Lucy is to your left just slightly behind you and Frank and Janet side by side in the back. After a few minutes you come to a fork.
“Let’s go right guys. This way we can get out sooner.” Janet suggests, having the hebbie jebbies ever since Brad and Joel had their little showdown.
“No no let’s go left, come on guys let’s take our time and have fun. Old man Joel can wait on us.” Brad tells the group, trying his best to take charge.
“No Brad I don’t feel comfortable doing that. Come on let’s just go right and get this over with and we can go to IHOP and hang after.” Janet begs Brad and the rest of the group.
“How about this? Me and Janet will go right. You guys go left. Lucy pick who you wanna go with.” Frank says coming up with a neutral solution.
“I’ll go with these guys. We’ll meet y’all at the end!” Lucy says to Frank and Janet.
The group splits off, Frank and Janet going right and you,Brad and Lucy going left. The three of you walk in silence for a few minutes before you hear what sounds like a scream. All three of you jump. You quickly grab onto Brads arm as Lucy grabs onto your arm.
“What was that?” Lucy whispers. Scared to be louder than a whisper so she’s not heard by whatever that was.
“I dunno girl. That’s super creepy. Do you think it was Janet? I hope they’re okay. M-maybe it’s just Frank scaring her.” You whisper back, trying to remain logic even though your heart is about to beat out of your chest.
“Girls. You guys are so easily scared.” Brad says, rolling his eyes. “You can’t scare me bro!” He shouts to the void.
By now the sun has set, leaving you, Brad and Lucy shrouded in darkness. There’s a couple of lights behind you at the entrance and you can see a couple more closer to the exit but that’s it. Complete darkness. And now that you notice, complete silence too. All of the other guests must have left by now leaving you and your friends here by yourselves. The three of you keep on walking when you hear snapping of a corn stalk before you feel Lucy’s grip on your arm leave. Looking back to see what she’s doing, you see that Lucy is gone. Literally vanished into thin air.
“Lucy? Lucy? Where are you?” You say in the loudest whisper you can manage. Frightened you grip onto Brad even harder, “ Brad let’s get out of here. I’m scared.” You tell him.
“Babe come on there’s nothing to be scared of. They’re playing a stupid little prank on you I’m sure of it.” He says with an air of confidence.
Terrified, you just nod your head holding onto him for dear life as the two of you continue walking through the maze. Soon enough you two are walking out of the maze.
“See babe I told you everything is fine.” Brad says.
Letting go of his arm, you shake out your arms, stiff from the tight grip you had. “Whatever Brad let’s find the others and go.” You say as you look at him.
Before he can answer you, a pitchfork shoots out his chest causing him to gurgle on the blood now flooding his mouth. The pitchfork slides back through his body as you let out a blood curling scream. Brads body slumping over and falling to the ground revealing Farmer Joel standing behind him, pitchfork in hand.
Paralyzed with fear, all you seem to be able to do is stand there with eyes wide and your mouth still open. Joel throws the pitchfork down, practically gliding over to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder in one smooth motion. Immediately you start banging your fists on his impenetrable back, flailing your legs.
“Let me go!! Please! I- I won’t go to the cops or anything! Just please let me go!! I don’t wanna die!!” You scream at Joel, begging for your life.
Joel just grunts at your begging,swatting you on your ass as he takes you into his barn in the back, a good ways away from the maze. And for some reason your body absolutely betrays you because why on gods green earth should that give you such a good feeling in your lower stomach. A tiny part of you hoping he does it again. Once inside, Joel drops you like a sack of potatoes onto a hay bale that’s been placed against a wooden post. Before you can even make a move he grabs your arms twisting them behind you and tying you to the post.
“No use in screaming honey. Nobody can hear you out here so it’d be in your best interest to keep quiet.” Joel finally says as he finishes tying you and walks around to face you.
“Please mister Joel please I promise I’ll do whatever you want just let me go! I don’t wanna die! Please . .” You sob, hoping this man has a sliver of mercy inside his body for you.
Joel just stands there, staring at you for a quick second before walking back out of the barn. As you sit there you notice your body betraying you further as you feel yourself start to get wet. Between him spanking you and now being tied up, a part of you is excited from the treatment. You’ve always found Joel to be handsome. Big, broad shoulders, rough hands from working on the farm, those gorgeous brown eyes. But you saw him kill Brad! He probably killed the others too you just didn’t have any proof. It must be the adrenaline rushing through you, that’s it. That’s why you’re feeling like this.
After what felt like hours being stuck inside the barn, you hear Joel’s boots thudding on the cold, hard ground followed by what sounded like wheels? That’s when you see Joel pushing a wheelbarrow piled high with your friends. On the other side of the barn, directly across from you, Joel dumps all the bodies of your friends into a pile. The bodies make a sickening thud when you notice their arms and legs have been severed from their bodies, Brads head rolls away from the pile and lands up right, staring at you.
Terrified, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. He cut brads head off!!! All of your friends have been dismembered!! You were already scared for your life, if that’s what he does to them, what’s Joel gonna do to you?!
Your scream hurts Joel’s ears, the high pitched sound causing him to flinch. After dumping the bodies he drops the wheel barrow and stomps over to you. Picking up that punks head by the hair, he throws it back to the pile. Once he reaches you, he can’t help but to slap you across the face before covering your mouth with his hand. His other hand going to the back of your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair, yanking to make you look at him.
“Be quiet girl! I already told you ain’t nobody can hear you! I don’t wanna hear that shit!” He growls in your face. You shut up immediately. He continues to cover your mouth and keep his fist in your hair as the two of have this stare down. After a few seconds, Joel breaks first and drops his hands as he looks away. Grunting he starts to untie you from the post. Once untied he unceremoniously throws you back over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of you. He leaves the barn and starts towards his house. As scared as you are, you decide your gonna do what he says and stay quiet, hoping he’ll take mercy on you if you behave.
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Slamming the door closed behind him, Joel makes sure to lock all three locks and the chain to ensure you can’t get out. Still carrying you, he can’t help but notice how your ass sticks out from your dress being pushed up from being thrown over his shoulder. It’s been so long since he’s last had a woman. And a man has urges you know. Deciding in a split second to change his plan, he instead takes you up upstairs to his bedroom.
Soon enough Joel is flinging you onto his king sized bed. Sitting up you can’t help but stare up, wide eyed at Joel as he towers over you. You’ve never really noticed how tall he is. It’s almost intimidating how he looms over you. The way he’s manhandled you has caused your slick to pool in your panties. All of these emotions have left you so puzzled; he’s a murderer. You saw your friends dead. But yet you find yourself wanting to look deep in his eyes before he bends you over his knee to spank you as punishment before making you take every inch of his cock in your tight virgin pussy. Joel begins to bend down and take his boots off, throwing them one by one to the side. Nervous, you slowly scooted back towards the head board.
“You a virgin girl?” Joel asks in a gruff voice as he places a bended knee on the bed. You shake your head yes nervous as to what he’s gonna do with that information. He slowly makes his way onto the bed, now on both of his knees, crawling toward you with a hungry look in his eyes and a creepy smirk on his face making you scooch back even more. Feeling like an animal about to be attached by it’s predator.
“Good. Just how I like my women. Pure. And all mine.” Joel says in a low baritone voice, “Don’t worry darlin’ you’ll like what I do to you. I’ll make sure your untouched pussy can take my cock before I fuck you.” As much as you try to feel reassured that he’s not gonna make it hurt, you’re still scared. You’ve never been touched. The most you’ve done is some light kissing and hand holding. And now this scary man who turns you on and frightens you is going to take your virginity. Your back hits the headboard forcing you to acknowledge you have no where to go. Joel reach’s his hand out and grabs your calf, pulling your leg causing you to slide down leaving you on your back and his face directly in front of your cunt. He bends down, his nose going up and down your covered slit as he breathes in your soaking wet pussy. The feeling of his nose on your most private part sends tingles throughout your vagina and up your whole body. You can’t help by shiver from the feeling.
“Mm you smell so good baby” Joel says, breathing in deep before laying a chaise kiss on top of your mound. Joel looks up at you, You are frozen, unable to move or say anything but lay there and watch this man. The two of you hold eye contact for a few heartbeats before you feel Joel’s rough hands grab your hips and begin to peel your panties off of your body. You lift your hips to help him reveal yourself to him, wanting to feel his touch down there again.
Once your panties were off and flung to the side, Joel looks back down and let’s out a low whistle, “Damn baby looks like you want this. You want my cock pretty girl? Need a man to show you how to fuck? How to suck cock? Need me to make this cunt feel good?” He says as he takes his thumb up your slit, putting a little pressure on your clit and holding it there.
You sigh at how good that felt. Starting to feel all your thoughts melt away when you felt a slap on your cunt, making it sting, “Ouch!” You exclaim
“Answer me when I’m talking to you girl!” Joel barks at you as he slaps your pussy again.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll answer, I-I’ll be good, I’m sorry!” You sob after a third slap. Joel reached up with his other hand and grabs your cheeks causing your face to be smushed as he pulls you towards his face, “Tell me you want this. Tell me you need my hands, my fucking cock or I swear to god I’ll take you back to the barn and leave you to rot with your friends.” Joel demands, you nod your head yes, “Yes. Yes I- I need you Joel . I-Joel please, please I need you, I-I I need your cock.”
Joel leans forward, meeting your face, causing his nose to press into your nose, “Good baby. That’s what I wanna hear. I don’t wanna hurt you darlin’ but I will. I need you to be good okay? Be my good girl.” He says, shaking his head yes as he said those last words, closing his eyes. Inhaling deep, as if he can’t get enough of your scent. You shake your head yes with him, “I’ll be good Joel.” You whisper, causing Joel to open his eyes and look deep into yours. His lips part in awe as he glances down at your lips. Even though your mouth is squished, he still looks at you like your the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. That’s when he presses his lips on yours. Kissing you deeply, taking your breath away. It’s not a soft kiss by any means. He is putting a good amount of force into the kiss while also keeping your head still so you have no type of give in your neck. Soon you feel his tongue lick your lips, unable to keep his tongue out of your mouth, you have no choice but to open your lips a little wider than they already are and accept his tongue on your mouth. Joel roughly sticks his tongue in, licking all around the inside as though he’s trying to eat your face.
After a few minutes of a sloppy makeout session, Joel pulls away, letting go of your face. Moving down your neck, leaving a trail of wet open mouthed kisses. His large hands roaming all over your body, caressing up and down your sides before he raises one hand and grabs your tit giving it a squeeze. You let out a moan at that, having never been felt up before, it feels so good. Your moan spurs Joel on and pulls your dress down, revealing your breasts to him. Looking down at your boobs, Joel smiles, looking quite pleased with himself before darting his head down and capturing a nipple in his mouth.
“Ooh o-oh. Joel t-that feels so good.” You say breathlessly, looking down at the man suckling your breast. He twirls his tongue around, flicking your nipple with his tongue causing them to harden before he lightly bites down. Letting go of your tit, Joel gives you a smirk before he makes his way back down your body. His face back in between your thighs. Poking out his tongue, he gives your slit a light lick as if he was testing out to see your reaction. You couldn’t help but suck in air, completely entranced to see what he does next. That’s when Joel dives right in, holding your lips open with his thumbs as he licks a wide stripe from the bottom of your pussy up to your clit. The wet muscle then begins to flick and twirl all around your clit but never on it. He’s so close to where you want him. But the feeling of his tongue all over your pussy is the most exquisite feeling you’ve ever had. You can’t help but roll your eyes back as you reach down and card your fingers through his hair, intertwining your fingers in his brown curls. The slight tug of his hair has Joel whimpering into your pussy. Joel lives for praise, he needs to be told how good he is so feeling you let go and hold onto him has him even harder.
You’ve never felt like this before. It’s almost as if your on a roller coaster about to go over the drop. That’s when you feel a thick finger probe your opening. Joel tests your cunt to see just how tight you are, barely able to get his finger inside of you, “Relax baby ‘sokay it’s supposed to feel good.” He says as he works his finger into you more. Once he’s able to insert his finger, he lets it sit there for a beat before he starts pumping his finger in and out. The feeling causing your whole body to heat up, at first it hurt but now. Oh fuck now, it feels so incredibly good. You start breathing harder, moaning more, legs start to shake as Joel begins to finger you even harder. You feel your wetness gush out of you and soon you feel yourself go over the drop of a roller coaster you’ve found yourself on.
“Fuck that’s it baby fuck yea you’re ready for me now” Joel says breathlessly, excited to pop your pretty little cherry. Taking his finger out, he quickly gets off the bed and takes his overalls off revealing his thick, hard cock that’s already weeping with precum.
Joel takes himself in hand, giving his dick a few pumps, “This is all for you angel. Gonna make that cunt mine.” He says as he gets back on the bed, pulling you down so your on your back, underneath him. Still high off of your orgasm, all you can do is lay there. Your whole body feels like jelly. You feel Joel swipe his cock through your folds a few times before you feel him start to push the tip in. That’s when your whole body seizes up from the sharp pain.
“Ouch! Wait! Please, it hurts!” You try to plead with him, your words cause him to stop for a second as he looks down where your bodies are connected.
“Shh baby it’ll be over soon. The pain doesn’t last long. Just take it like a big girl.” He says, “just relax f’ me”
Joel watches you take a deep breath and he plunges his cock all the way in your freshly popped pussy. The shock of it all, the pain is almost unbearable. After a few seconds of his cock being inside of you, Joel being nice enough to give you some time to adjust to him, it begins to feel . . good? You can feel his cock throb inside of you, making your pussy get wetter.
“M-move. Please” you stutter. Joel grunts at that, pleased you relaxed enough he was able to fully get inside of you in one swift thrust. He starts to thrust, going hard with no real build up to the pounding he is now unleashing on your cunt. After a few minutes of Joel thrusting on top of you, grunting and sweating in your face, his movements start to stutter.
“Oh fuck oh fuck baby I’m gonna cum I’m gonna c- uuuhhng!” He grunts as he fills your pussy with his huge load. Ropes and ropes of cum shooting deep into your womb, so much so that it starts to leak out of you.
Joel pulls himself out of you and sees his cum leaking, tsking “Now we can’t have that. Nah that needs to stay right in there.” He says as he gathers his cum on his fingers and pushes it back in your sore pussy. Once satisfied with his work, Joel sits back on his calf’s admiring you.
“So fucking pretty like this baby. But you made a goddamn mess. My sheets are all wet and bloody. You know why it’s all bloody baby?” He says in a sarcastic tone, “because I fucked you. I popped your pretty little cherry and now you belong to me.” he says snarling at you. Still, you haven’t moved a muscle, continuing to lay there scared of what he’s gonna do next now that he’s had his way with you. Joel grabs you by your arm, dragging you off the bed. Dumping you on the floor he goes to tug the sheets off his bed. Throwing the soiled sheets on the floor next to you, Joel turns and walks out of the bedroom to grab fresh sheets.
When he walks back in, that’s when you finally get some strength and stand up. Shaking like a leaf behind him as he struggles getting the fitted sheet onto his bed, you start to slowly inch you way towards the door, ready to run for your life.
All too soon, Joel finishes with the sheets and turns around only to see you standing close to the door. Staring at each other you break your eye contact to glance at the door and back at him. Joel then glances at the door and back at you right as you lunge towards the exit letting out a scream as you do so. Except Joel manages to slam his body into the door before you get there, shutting it with his body as he grabs you by the arm again, “aht now what do you think your doing sugar? Just gonna ride me hard and put me away wet? You’re mine now, you’re gonna keep your sweet little ass in my house. Warm my bed!” He tells you, shaking you with each word as if it’ll shake some sense into you.
“I wasn’t leaving! I promise! I-I I need to use the bathroom! I wanna clean myself up for you! Yea yea I wanna clean up so I smell good and look good. All for you Joel.” You try to sound convincing knowing damn well he sees right through your words. Joel just purses his lips and gives you this ‘do you think I’m that dumb?’ look. Yanking you over back over to his bed he shoves you on it.
“Get your ass up there. I’m fucking tired so we’re going to bed now. I’ll give you the grand tour of our house in the morning baby.” He says as he gets in bed next to you. Terrified you do as he says, there’s a good chance he’s a heavy sleeper and you’ll be able to sneak off once he’s asleep. Joel pulls the blanket over the two of you, you on your back and him on his side facing you. Once under the blanket, Joel wraps his arm around you, giving you a tight squeeze.
“Sweet dreams sugar and welcome to your new life.” He says in a sleepy voice.
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Joel managed to keep his arm wrapped around you all night long. The sun is starting to come up and you haven’t been able to get away all night. That’s when Joel grunts in his sleep and rolls over, releasing you from his grasp.
This is it! This is my chance! I gotta go before he wakes up! Oh my god oh fuck okay I can do this. I will do this, you think as you slowly slip out from underneath the blanket and pour yourself slowly out of the bed. Joel continues to snore, oblivious to your actions. Walking on tip toes you make it to the door, stopping to check to make sure Joel hasn’t heard you yet. You manage to crack open the door just a little before it starts to creek. Scared, you stop all movement. Staying absolutely frozen to the spot, you hear Joel stop snoring and start to move around. After what felt like a century, Joel begins to snore again. Your heart has never beat so fast in your life. Taking a deep breath you continue on your top toes out of the bedroom into a hallway. Moving as quickly and quietly as you can, you walk past a couple of bedrooms before making it to a set of stairs.
Oh my god I’m doing it! I’m so close! Thank god!! Okay okay I’ve got this! You give yourself a pep talk in your head as you make your way downstairs and over to the front door. Fucking hell. There’s so many locks!! Shit shit okay calm down! Start with the first one and work your way up. You begin to unlock the bottoms lock. Click. Whew! Okay now next lock. As your turning the lock you hear the floor creek behind you. And that’s when you feel him at your back.
“Now where the hell do you think your going?” Comes the gruff voice of a man who woke up to his new woman sneaking out.
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“A new body has just been discovered. This is coming a week after the discovery of four new victims of the Scare Crow killer. A female, believed to be in her twenties, has been found impaled by a wooden post, her body dismembered and limbs sown back on and gutted, dressed up as a scarecrow.”
Joel sits down at his kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, watching the little tv he has sitting on the counter to keep him company. Huffing at todays news as he digs in, “It’s a shame. I liked that one. Really hoped she keep my bed warm for a lot longer.” He says out loud as milk drips down his chin.
A/n: whew! Okay this is a hefty boy! This literally came from @multiversed-daydreamer going “I need farmer Joel to be a serial killer and chase people in the corn maze” as soon as I read that, Farmer Joel was born. Obviously this is very much horror, I took inspo from horror movies. I kept returning to the 2003 Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the 1995 Texas chainsaw: the next generation while writing this, while also using other slasher movie elements. This is a one shot. I doubt I’ll ever return to farmer Joel but I did have fun writing this and just going balls to the wall with the horror lol
I’m not going to tag anybody just because of the nature of this. 💜
#Joel Miller#serial killer!joel#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#horror writing#horrorblr#spooky fic#spooky season#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#tlou#joel miller fic#dark!joel miller
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Graves Relationship HCs
I am unapologetically down bad for this man, thank you Tech, I am what you created. Big thanks to Luci and Tech for letting me bounce ideas off of them. I also let my southern out while typing this because I feel like this is an appropriate character to do it with.
This contains NSFW content.
Graves loves you, his partner, more than he can verbally express, which is why his hands are constantly on you. In your home, at the store, walking down the road, even on base in front of his Shadows, it does not matter. It could be as simple as him holding your hip or hand. When he's feeling needy or cheeky though, his hand is in the back pocket of your jeans or, if y'all are seated, he's caressing the inside of your thigh and inching ever closer to the heat hidden between your legs. The man is a certified fiend, I don't know what you expected.
Got jewelry on? He's rubbing it between his fingers, fiddling with it, admiring how it feels and how it looks on you. He loves it because he's bought you every piece of jewelry you wear and it serves as a reminder to himself that he can provide for you. It also feeds his possessive nature, even if he won't openly admit it.
Darlin', sweetheart, baby, pumpkin, doll, he's calling you everything under the sun just to see you smile at him.
That all changes at night when he's balls deep inside you, fucking you into the mattress like the man has been deprived of pleasure his whole life. Those cute pet names only serve to mock and tease.
"Fuuuck, look at my little pumpkin~ Not even able to keep those pretty eyes on me when I ask. Always so fuckin' stupid under me." Philip's smirk was wicked as he pulled on the leg hooked over his shoulder, using it as leverage to bully his cock impossibly deeper into you. Fuck if it didn't feel like Heaven as he rocked inside you. He could feel what it did to you too, the way your walls clenched around him even tighter, threatening to push him out as your whines of his name got louder. "Shh, it's okay baby, just take it"
You can bet your sweet ass you have some bruises and you're having to hide some very visible hickies with your favorite concealer. You could have the biggest pout on your lips about it and he'd just be smug as can be.
"Come on sweetheart, just shows how much I love you." You wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face at this moment, but nothing you've ever done has. "We're having lunch with your parent's Phillip!" You were pouting, small tears of frustration threatening to well up. It's not because he marked you, but because the outfit he wanted you to wear left your neck and part of your chest exposed, showing off the small galaxy he had made. Graves' chest jolted as he held back his laughs, pressing his lips to the side of your head like it would help silence him. All you could do was reach around and slap his hip in retaliation which just made him finally laugh out loud. "O-Okay baby, you can pick a different top, just no more poutin'."
Oh yeah, by the way, if he's home and you're getting ready he's switching out whatever you intended to wear with something that pairs well with he's wearing. If he's wearing a white polo and jeans he's pulling out that pretty white and pink floral dress/top he got you for your birthday. It's another small way he makes sure everyone knows you're his.
Also, You and your friends want to go out for the night? He's instantly offering to cook for everyone because he doesn't want you out of the house. You don't know it (or maybe you do) but it's because he can't stand you being where he won't or can't be. It's always cleverly hidden under excuses and reasons that make sense if you don't look too deep. Man is a master manipulator when he needs to be.
"Me and the (ladies/guys) were talking about going to the new restaurant downtown for a (girls/guys) night this Saturday, is that okay with you baby?" You called out from the bathroom of your shared bedroom. Phillip immediately tensed from where he was sat in the bed, the hand he was using to scroll on his iPad stilled as he thought of ways to keep you home. "Well, it was supposed to be a surprise but, I was planning a date night for us that evenin'...." You turned off the bathroom light and you padded over to the bed, climbing in next to him. Your body immediately attached itself to his as you snuggled up. "I'm sorry baby, I didn't know. I could just tell them I can't join?" You couldn't help but feel bad, after all, he worked so hard but still made time for you. "No, I know you want to see your friends. Maybe you and the (ladies/guys) could have your night here and I'll cook?" Phillip turned off his iPad and sat it on the nightstand, making a small show of giving you his undivided attention. "That's a lot though, I don't want you overworking yourself more than you already do..." You bit at your lip as you looked up at him with worry. "Pumpkin, if it makes you happy that ain't nothin'. You deserve to be spoiled. Besides, once they leave we can have our alone time and I'll get all the rest I need." The 'our' was accented by a seductive smirk and kiss to the side of your head as he wrapped an arm around you. When you texted the group chat the following morning everyone was happy to agree to coming over. They love his cooking, plus who would ever say no to free food?
I also have to warn you, Graves is a mama's boy. Luckily though, he's not the kind who worships his mom or picks her side over yours. There have been many times his mother has tried to split the two of you up or been nasty towards you. Each time is happens though it is quickly shut down because Graves' isn't going to put up with it. He'll be down right disrespectful to her when she does it and not even bat an eye when she starts getting upset because you've 'turned her baby against her'. He left home young for multiple reasons and she was one of the biggest ones, regardless of how much he loves her.
At the end of the day, this man would choose very few things over you. He's possessive, cunning, manipulative, but his feelings are very much real. He would never put you in danger or hurt you intentionally. That doesn't mean he hasn't before, when he gets mad his mouth moves before his brain. He's stubborn and doesn't like to apologize, but once he realizes how bad he's fucked up he's doing whatever it takes for you to smile at him again.
#x female reader#x reader#cod mw2#headcanon#cod modern warfare#phillip graves#x gender neutral reader#modern warfare 2#call of duty
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WHATS GOOD MIO!!! I am now here with my request 😎 if you need more information about this request feel free to DM me! anyways….
Now, May I request Lucifer Morningstar with a GN!Reader whos a Gyaru(O)? Just to explain the lore of Gyaru, If you know, Gyaru originated in Japan in the 90’s as a rebellion against the stereotypical beauty standard of having pale skin and dark hair, these gyarus — Gals or perhaps, Guys — were very flashy and outgoing, now other people except Japanese people wear Gyaru(o) and they are usually called “Gaijin Gyaru(O)” and it means a gyaru who doesn’t reside in Japan, Gyaru(O) has many sub-styles such as Hime, Agejo, Rokku, Manba/Banba, and much more from this wikipedia.
Thank you so much! I hope this isn’t too much and have fun! =)
WHATS GOOD BRAAAHH !?
this concept is crazy cool haha!! i really tried to do my proper research but if this is considered offensive in anyway shape or form, please tell me and i will either rewrite it or take it down!!
also i’m so sorry this took so long jax haha, i was bit nervous going into this because this is something i’m not that educated about, and i have definitely been procrastinating requests lately lol, so my deepest apologies!!
from what i gathered, gyaru seems to be a japanese clothing/makeup style with a bunch of variety and levels, but if i’m wrong please correct me haha
also the gif is from one of my moots so, little shoutout to her !! haha
Warrnings: Possibily inaccurate representation of Gyaru
Lucifer Morningstar x GN!Gyaru!Reader
Lucifer didn’t really know what ‘Gyaru’ was until he met, or started dating, you!
“Oh, yeah, I’m really into Gyaru.” You said to the blonde at the other side of the table whilst on your first date, you were trying to ask questions to get to know eachother, and you asked what he was interested in, and he said rubber ducks, which hey, everyone’s got a weird thing their into, so you don’t judge.
“Oh my golly, I love that band, we have so much in common, we really need to go see them!! With that one Gearoo guy on the drums who just ba-da-duh-bey!—” Lucifer rambled, even though he was very far off, he was just trying to have common interests, and on that note; he pronounced ‘Gyaru’ so wrong…
“Oh, their not a ba—” You began, before Lucifer let out a ‘Ohh’ before beginning again.
“Gee, that’s my bad, I have a bit of an old man brain, with a daughter at home and all, her and her little friends! Heheh! Sometimes I just go coo-coo-coo! Sorry, wow, I’m just crazy..” Lucifer rambled once more, his voice trailing off at the end, as if he had an epiphany, giving an awkward, and slightly cheery chuckle, slapping his knee softly, before making awkward eye contact with you with a nervous but toothy grin. Yep, you loved him already. He has zero idea how you still gave him a chance after that.
Once Luci actually learns what Gyaru is, he genuinely does find it quite interesting.
He would be tempted to try it out, maybe a makeup look or a fit, but nothing too extreme, he’s still dipping his toes in haha
Also, he’s incredibly supportive, he loves admiring you as you get ready and pick out something to wear or do your makeup or whatever and however you get ready!!
If he has a meeting, he will definitely have you style him a sick looking outfit!!
Overall, he’s very supportive, the fact that your supportive of his odd duck obsession, he loves, so he owes it to ya :)
#reqs open#x reader#mio’s writing ! ☆#fanfiction#x y/n#x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#livelaughlute#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer x y/n#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#lucifer magne x reader#gyaru#gyaru fashion#jaxrel ! ☆
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~Lucifer blanches. He looks around, as if trying to find a sense of Alastor’s words somewhere in the trash-heap he calls a room, before rounding back to him, lips pulling up in disgust. “Are you asking me out?”
“Ahaha!” Alastor laughs, slapping him so hard on the back it nearly takes Lucifer off his feet. “Oh, Heavens no. I’m just proposing we let Hell continue thinking that you and I are,” he waves his hand, searching for the word, “in cahoots. In that way.”~
This is golden comedy right here. Honestly every time I read ur fic I always start wheezing so hard I can’t breathe, u are an amazing writer, hope u know that. When I saw ur last update on the ‘damage control’ chapter i was so excited i devoured it so fast help
Alastor saying he wants to be in ‘cahoots’ with Lucifer it’s so funny to me cause no one use that term anymore, and Lucifer is just downright dumbfounded that they are even having the conversation. I can imagine the shadow rolling his eyes at them, we need more sassy shadow moments, he is so underrated. 😭😭
I love that Lucifer is trying to respect Al boundaries, especially after the ‘incident’ , and doesn’t pry to much on his scars, but now I am curious about what did Al meant. Does he not remember who did that to him? 🥺
Also I am curious about what they gonna tell to the others about their new found relationship. I don’t think Lucifer would want to lie to Charlie, but I also think that it would be too risky to make the whole crew knew they are acting, someone might slip. And it’s not like Al is gonna make it easy for Lucy anyway. If they want to be credible, less ppl knowing it’s best course of action for me.
Last thing~ I really wanted to thank you, cause ur fic really brings me a lot of joy since I recently only been able to find happiness in small things like these , and I I can’t wait to read more🌈
Hehehe, Alastor purposefully refusing to go into depth about their "sexual relationship," and even side-stepping outright calling it a relationship, is what's going to make it all more entertaining when he actually has to commit to the bit. Cuz you see, they're not fucking. They're "in cahoots."
It's different.
(I love Alastor's Shadow being sassy. If it's attached to Alastor, it has to be. I take no critiques.)
😈 Alastor and his scars is something I'm very excited to get into it. I've been thinking about them for a while, and while it may take a bit to actually get the answer, I'm very eager to get there when we do.
The way I see it, Alastor doesn't want to tell the others (as they already know their not actually dating--as he made VERY clear last time), but Lucifer isn't going to be okay with lying to Charlie. Out of the group, Alastor knows he can trust Husk and Niffty to keep it a secret. Maybe Angel Dust too. But he's most worried about Charlie and Vaggie.
Vaggie isn't a good liar, and Charlie's such an open, bright, heart-on-her-sleeves person, he doesn't trust her to keep up the ruse without letting something slip--most likely by accident.
But Lucifer is stubborn. He doesn't want to lie to Charlie, and if he tells Charlie, Charlie is going to tell Vaggie. If Vaggie knows, well, we already know she has a hard time lying on the spot, so if the others see Alastor and Lucifer suddenly "in cahoots," and ask about it, she's not going to be able to come up with a plausible excuse on the fly.
This is all to say, the next installment is going to be full of silly Hazbin Crew hijinks, where Alastor is forcefully enrolled into Chaggies Dating 101 Crash Course, and he is definitely not setting the grading curve. (And maybe we'll even get a bit of HuskerDust thrown in there, who knows. Certainly not me).
And it warms me so much to know that my fic can bring you joy in a time that such things are scarce 🥺 I can't wait to share more of the story with you!
#seriously#getting asks like these brighten my day to know end#I like keeping actual story elements and plot hooks a secret until we get there in the fic#but GOD#when you guys ask questions about it I just want to blab everything#ive got so many thoughts on the brain and I wanna SHAARRREEEE#Im so happy my fic is helping through a hard time#that's such an amazing thing to hear and i sincerely hope that whatever situation your in gets better#in the meantime#pls accept these absolute goofuses stumble their way into an actual queer relationship#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#lucifer morningstar#the radio demon#appleradio#lucifer magne#asks#charlie hazbin hotel#hazbin charlie#charlie morningstar#vaggie#chaggie#niffty#charlotte morningstar#vaggie hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel husk#husk#hazbin husk
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Hey, would you write Anthony Lockwood x reader, in which George and Lucy are fed up with the reader and Lockwood arguing and lock them in the basement for the whole night until they reconcile, and at the same time profess their love for each other. Thanks in advance
Skeletons in the Closet but it’s Actually Just Us
Anthony Lockwood x (gn) reader
Warnings/Tags: Romcom levels of fluff, You’ve Got Mail level of romcom, no suggestive content, Lucy and George friendship, They are deeply fed up, ‘Locked in a cupboard until they confess’ trope, Lockwood is a silly guy, confessions, Reader is a bit of a grumpy person, Valid tbh when the love of their life is some self-sacrificing bozo, A bit of angst given the nature of the Problem, mentions of death,
Notes: Just reviewed all the romcoms I’ve watched these past few weeks so this might be extra cheesy. Also I am rereading your request, anon and I am so sorry but I misread it so BAD 💀But also I changed the time a bit from it being night to it being right after a case! I’m so sorry this isn’t how your request put it 😭 I have terrible reading skills VERY LOOSELY EDITED AND SHORT
Summary: You and Lockwood are unable to voice your own feelings for each other, which frustrates Lucy and George enough to take action. An argument, locked storage, and a heart to heart about the nature of your world later, you’re setting up… a date..???
Anthony John Lockwood was an annoying prat who strutted about like a peacock in desperate need of a slap. Now this frustration is usually the result of something smaller; minute, you might even say, but today— oh, today.
“You ran straight into danger—“ You repeat yourself for what must be the 4th time the past hour. Anthony is sitting across from you in the kitchen “—even though George and I had specifically warned you—“
“Lucy went in too!” He blurts, throwing his shoulders up.
“Keep me out of this,” Lucy hisses, narrowing her eyes at him, “I actually brought iron chains with me.”
You gesture at her wildly, nodding in vindication as you turn back to Lockwood, “Exactly. Lucy knew what she was doing, you were just being reckless! I basically had a heart attack when that Visitor nearly ghost-touched you because you—“
“I didn’t need you to push me aside and put yourself in danger, though!” He hissed, just as frustrated. “I knew what I was doing. I’m very well aware of how it looked like, but I swear I knew what I was doing. Even if… I did need your help getting out of the trouble I put myself in after.”
A pregnant pause hangs in the air, frustration and worry laying under tension so thick you could it with a knife. You look away first with a defeated huff. Lockwood raises a brow and his lips split into a wobbly smile, the charming bastard. He lounges back into his seat and rests one arm on the table in front of him— a gesture for your hand. The look would have been more impactful if a bruise wasn’t already forming on cheek and there wasn’t blood drying on his brow. Still, you make your way over to him to fix his tie (which had gotten caught on banisters during the case) and push his collar up. He beams at you when you pat his jacket neat, but you’re still upset.
“Reckless… stupid prick…” You mumble, brushing his hair with your hands.
Under you, Lockwood’s grin grows just the faintest bit soft as he lolls his head back just to watch your frown.
“I think, hear me out, this is just because you’re worried about me,” Lockwood hums.
You scoff, tugging his tie down harshly, “Someone has to with how little you seem to worry about your own life. Like, seriously Anthony? Our lives are on the line—“
“Want to go on a date?” He asks, interrupting you. You choke on air and quickly let go to swat at his chest. Even if he meant that jokingly, something blazing seemed to unfurl in your chest and stuttered your breathing. You’re usually warm around Lockwood, human heater that he was, but this was a feeling that had your palms clammy and your teeth burried into your lips.
“Now is not the time to joking, Lockwood,” you grit out.
“Well I’m not. I really mean—“ he starts, but the sound of a clang startles you both. Lockwood springs up and takes your hand in his, putting himself between you and the basement door. You look around to find Lucy, but her chair’s empty and pushed in. Worry seeps into your bones with a familiarity like the hand holding yours.
“Lucy? George?” Lockwood calls out, stepping closer to find the door ajar.
Distantly you hear both of them call for you and Lockwood, sounding distressed. You push yourself in front of Lockwood into the spiral staircase down, dismissing the small click of his tongue from behind you.
“You’re being reckless now,” He whispers harshly, which you ignore.
It’s a quick trip to the bottom (with Lockwood likely frowning the whole way down), as you rush into the basement. Lucy and George are standing by the ‘high security’ storage room, something unreadable and determined in their expressions. You rush forward, checking on both of them and giving each a hug after.
You flutter about them both, brows furrowed in worry, “Are you two alright? Are you hurt? Is everything—“
From behind you, Lockwood’s hands rest on your shoulders then rub up and down along your arms in a soothing gesture. “What’s happened?”
Lucy gives George a look, and he clears his throat to say, “We found something in the storage. I couldn’t see it that well, and Lucy—“
Lockwood, the absolutely reckless prick, was already making his way inside. You take a breath through your nose and follow right after him, sending reassuring smiles to Lucy and George as you step in. You whip back to glare at Lockwood’s head, ever the reckless hero he was.
“Lockwood don’t just walk in without even hearing about the situation.” You check a shelf for the sources you keep locked away, Lockwood taking the opposite. A quiet moment passes as you run a hand along the line of the shelf, trying to sense for anything out of the ordinary.
“Probably a Visitor took a break from being in one of our… usually foolproof containers.” He looks over a small, see-through box to check for any cracks or breakage.
You whip back to glare at him, feeling not only worried, but frustrated as well. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t have just waltzed in, Anthony. This is exactly what I mean when I say you’re completely reckless sometimes—“
The door to the high security storage clicks closed, and you both startle. You make your way over to push the door open, but the lock is keeping it shut.
“Shit,” Lockwood rasps out. Yeah, that’s fair.
When you got home from the case that day, you didn’t think the rest of the night would be spent being locked in the basement storage for the next morning. After a quick argument with Lucy and George (who promised to be back whenever ‘you two (you and Lockwood) had stopped arguing and acting like idiots’) where they had insisted they wouldn’t be too far and to just yell for them if anything went wrong.
Now, Lockwood sat beside you with your backs to the door. Lucy had had the foresight to leave you behind with medical supplies, and you found one of George’s sticky notes on a tray of quick snacks. Messily scrawled in the way only George ever could, was Get yourselves together, thanks.
If getting yourselves in order and making up looked like awkward silence and Anthony’s self-soothing stretching and everything you did to self-soothe, then it was looking fantastic. Lockwood had yet to say anything but a few curses when he tried to open the door, though he’d given up half an hour in. Now it was just you two munching on biscuits in a semi-awkward silence.
“I meant it, you know,” He says suddenly, as you’re patching him up and cleaning his wounds. His eyes don’t mean yours when you look up, but you know what he means.
“It was a terrible time to suggest that kind of thing, Anthony,” You bite back, careful to dress his wrist properly.
“I meant it though.” He says sincerely; challengingly. He was always like this, baiting for you to fight back or ague for more, even if you could never tell why.
“Then we’d go on a date, do whatever it is people who like each other do, then I…” you rest your fingers over his open palm, and he slides his own in the spaces between yours “… I watch you throw yourself into danger— into sure death and just wait for either our talents to dry up or for either of us to die?”
“No,” he hums, peering at you through his long lashes, “Well, sort of, just—“
“What else, Anthony?”
“I wouldn’t word it like that.” He squeezes your hand and you purse your lips. Here you are with someone you love dearly wondering if the next time either of you go out there someone dies.
“Then how would you word it, Lockwood?” You want to hope, voice cracking under the weight of your need. Your soft heart lurches from the thick walls of your chest— through the ribs and the muscle and whatever the fuck else was there— reaching with its sharp claws for a scrap.
“We… go on a date. Because I like you and you like me, and because even without the problem hanging over us, we could die at any minute. I, for one, wouldn’t want to waste any of it I could have with you, now or after.” Like a ray of hope, the twinkle in his eyes. Like a ray of hope, that punchable, kissable grin. Your heart lurches and your breath stutters.
You take a free hand to tuck loose strands of his hair out of his face, humming, “How are you so sure I like you, Lockwood?”
“I don’t,” he admits sheepishly. He’s boyish like this, whispering and grinning at you with something not so cocky and infuriatingly cute. “Just a guess really.”
“George told you.” Even though you never told George.
“George did tell me he had a theory, yes… Backed it up with evidence and everything”
You glare at him for a moment, this ray of hope your heart has chosen to cling onto in these times and troubles, and find yourself faltering.
“One condition. Then we can go on however many dates you want for however long you’ll have me,” you offer, dropping your hands down to look proper into his face.
“Anything,” he says easily, shuffling closer to you.
“Try not to be so reckless. We can’t have you dying before even the first one— or any of them, understand?” You pinch his nose lightly, earning a gentle swat back from him.
“You have to try, too. I can’t lose you either.” He brings your hands to his lips, pressing kisses along each knuckle.
I love you goes unspoken, but he sees it in the way you smile so warmly at him, and you see it in the way he holds your hands like it’s the world. Not today, but maybe someday you will tell each other. Today you yell for George and Lucy to finally let you both out and face the world hand in hand.
A/N: I’m such a fan for the “couple who’s not yet a couple bicker endlessly with each other over every little thing” cause I find it so cute. I am a ‘love at first argument’ girlie to the core. Some of my most major crushes have been people I argue with near constantly. Also, because you didn’t anon specify I flipped a coin and it landed on (gn).
Side note: This is especially short because I’m still thinking on how to go about a few things I’m writing. Been having ideas for an angst fic for either Lockwood or Lucy (x reader, ofc) and continuing George’s series because I am deeply in love with him
#anthony lockwood x you#lockwood x reader#lockwood x you#anthony lockwood x reader#portie writes fanfic
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Lockwood x m or gn readervwhere reader fell alseep Infront of the fire and Lockwood Carey's them up stairs to bed and puts them in their PJs 🖤
—sweet nothing
pairing: anthony lockwood x gn!reader
summary: some domestic bliss with lockwood
warnings: I don't think any, let me know if I missed anything
note: thanks for the compliment!! also this was so calming to write idk haha
Anthony was standing in the kitchen, cleaning mugs, humming his favourite song, when you entered.
"hey" you smiled, sitting down at the table and laying your arm on top of the chair.
the boy turned around and looked at you, never interrupting his humming. his cheeks grew bright pink, his happiness was radiant and you quickly caught your thoughts wandering off while you smiled fondly at him.
he turned around again to continue his work, while you continued to watch him in domestic bliss. those moments were your favourite, just for once doing normal things and not fighting off ghosts.
you hadn't really noticed your mind slipping away or your eyes slowly closing.
after he had finished, Anthony turned around to talk to you, but he found your sleeping form. your head laying on the armrest of his chair. he smiled, one of his arms went to rest under your knees, the other balanced your body right at your arms.
he brought you up the steps and laid you on top of the bed. he helped you take off your clothes in your half awake stake and got your pyjama pants, before he, to your request, took off his own shirt and slipped it over your head. he changed into his joggers and climbed in bed. your body fully relaxing, now that he was next to you.
when you woke up the next morning, Anthony was still fast asleep. you smiled at the boy and then carefully got out of bed, going downstairs to the kitchen.
"good morning" you smiled at Lucy and George, who were both already sitting at the kitchen table
"where's Lockwood?" George asked confused, not having seen said boy the whole morning. that was quite unusual, considering he didn't nearly sleep enough. those days were treasures to you. days where you beat him in getting up.
"he's still sleeping" George send a look in Lucy's direction, who just shrugged "but I don't think he will be for much longer, so i'm getting him breakfast. he was kind enough to carry me up to bed yesterday"
"kind enough?" Lucy repeated and both her and George broke into obnoxious laughing
"yeah" you replied, not understanding what they were getting at
"y/n" George said softly, like he was talking to a literal child "Lockwood would be kind enough to get rid of a body if you just asked him to"
"oh" you muttered
"they probably wouldn't even have to ask though" Lucy giggled "he would just be able to read that from off their face. that's how well he knows you, y/n"
you smiled at your friends and rolled your eyes, while you finished prepping the breakfast for Lockwood. you didn't eat anything most mornings.
"you guys are just being dramatic again. Anthony wouldn't help me to commit a literal crime"
"yeah sure" Lucy laughed
"if you say so" George shrugged his shoulders and both of them watched you leave the kitchen
you opened the door to your room softly, your eyes falling onto the already sitting boy
"good morning" he beamed "I was just about to get up and search for you" he helped you put down the trail on the bed and watched as you climbed back under the sheets
"how did you sleep?" you asked softly, putting a bit of milk into his tea
"amazing" he smiled "like always when you are with me"
you send him a longing smile, before you raised the mug and brought it close to him, until he could take it from you
"thank you for this"
"you're welcome"
you watched as his eyes flew over everything you had fixed for him. tea, toast with nutella, a few grapes and three biscuits. you had been glad that George hadn't tried to slap them out of your hand, though you remembered his eyes following your every move and lingering on your hand a bit too long, like he was debating just to bite it off.
"brave" Anthony praised, seemingly thinking about the same thing.
"what I wouldn't do for you"
"yeah" he laughed "hope you and George are still on speaking terms"
you made a throwing hand gesture "George will be fine"
"yeah, he will. i'd make sure to lock my door every night for a week though"
"hm, maybe you'll have to sleep over for a few more days"
"maybe I have to" Anthony nodded, taking a bite from his toast and then holding it in your direction, so you could take a bite as well.
"I might get used to this bed in breakfast thing"
"yeah, its not bad" you agreed nodding "maybe I could start eating breakfast again"
"yeah, maybe you could do that"
"what I wouldn't do for you"
"we can talk about making this a regular occurrence later, first we'll have to plan how to get rid of George's body, when the case comes that it might be necessary"
"you'd help me to get rid of a body?" you asked astonished, remembering the conversation you had with Lucy and George earlier
"what I wouldn't do for you" Anthony just shrugged and continued biting away on his toast
"oh my god"
#lockwood and co#lockwood gifs#anthony lockwood x reader#lockwoodandco#lockwood netflix#anthony lockwood x you#anthony lockwood imagine#anthony lockwood#anthonylockwood#cameron chapman#ruby stokes#ali hadji heshmati#lockwood and co netflix#netflix#ghost hunting#reader insert#anthony bloody lockwood#lizzy writes#wordsarelifewrites
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Lucy Bronze x reader
plot: you and your best friend go to the Lioness vs Matilda's game and are taken back when a player from England walks up to you at the end of the game.
warnings: a confident lucy and drunk friend
You and your best friend of two years would always try and watch any game where your countries battled each other, from cricket all the way to hockey. You loved it and when you could you would find cheap tickets and drink till your head spun and you called a single kick a goal very loudly.
But here you were in your yellow and green Matilda's top you bought from the market years ago that was filled with signatures from past players, an overpriced beer in your hand, and your best friend in light blue blabbering on about your 'restricted view' tickets and how they were actually really good.
"y/n you don't get it I can literally touch Alessia Russo" your best friend bagged on "oh yeah" you challenged "Me and Mackenzie Arnold are going to be best mates after the game" your Aussie accent shining through since it was your second beer and the teams were still doing some light training before the match started.
You felt someone staring at you as you quickly turned around back to the ground to see all the teams kicking around until you made eye contact with one of the players from the England team.
It made sense you thought, your friend had bought tickets with a bunch of other England players so you stuck out like a sore thumb, the player laughed to herself with a smirk that made your eyes widen a little as it was so simple but was very attractive.
"Soccer games are my favorite" you reminded your best friend "Yeah because soccer women players are your perfect type, cocky, sporty, and most of the time, also into women" your friend mocked you and you rolled your eyes "Sure, sure, I'm only familiar with Matilda's, I don't fraternize with the enemy"
You and your friend laughed again before the players started to get into positions, the same player you made eye contact with, starting in front of you as a defender, she looked over to your crowd again and the area cheered very loudly, making you laugh
"she must be popular," you remarked and your friend blankly stared at you "That's Lucy fucking Bronze y/n!"
The game continued on as England scored 1 up and your best friend stuck her tongue out at you as you flipped her off, as you watched the game unfold your best friend scoffed "I have never seen Lucia Bronze look at the crowd so much"
"We said the same thing about Gorry last time and figured out it was because her missus was in the crowd" you gasped before you both turned around to look at the crowd.
"She's hot," you remarked about the player "so her girlfriends gotta be special" your best friend agreed as you scanned the crowd but found no luck as most of your area were filmed with men or mums and daughters and sons.
The first half ended with England leading and you were getting very close to slapping your best friend for her comments.
Nothing improved in the second half, Australia had scored giving you hope but England secured the win in the last 10 minutes with another goal, your ears almost blasting from the cheers around you. When the game finished you didn't leave as quick as you wanted to because your friend wanted her new top to be signed before quickly a figure ran over to you too.
"you look like you're going for the wrong team" a thick English accent popped up, you turned your body to meet the eyes of the defender who kept on looking at the stands but now that she was closer your breath hitched.
maybe you should go for other teams as well as Matilda's.
You didn't reply straight away giving your now-drunk best friend an opportunity to jump in as Lucy signed her top.
"Tell me about it, no matter how many sports her support for her country is thick and through" you furrowed your eye brows at your friends statement and the defender laughed "I guess your gonna have to support a new team from here on" she smirked
and then your jaw almost dropped to the floor.
The defender took off her jersey with one arm revealing a six-pack of abbs that your friend nudged your shoulder about very hardly as she wrote something on the back of it and passed it to you.
"See you at other games yeah?" she asked and left without waiting for an answer.
With your jaw dropped you turned the top around.
'call me 04XX XXX XXX'
"fuck me"
#lucy bronze#england lionesses#matildas x reader#matildas#yn#leah williamson#katie mccabe#sam kerr#alanna kennedy#woso#sports#woso x reader#woso community#woso soccer#worldcup2023
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you are in the earth of me [04]
Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem! Reader
Content: no warnings apply (except Lockwood being a lil dum-dum but we love him for it)
Summary: Responsibility. Lucrative agent. Resource. It seems everyone is happy to fit your whole existence into one word; put you inside a cardboard box, slap a postage stamp on your forehead as though you’re some ghastly parcel to be shipped off when taking up too much space; being too inconvenient. Looks like even Lockwood and Co. is no different from the other agencies, a sobering revelation that is surprisingly disappointing.
Notes: [01] || [03] | [05]
Words: 4.6k
A/N: this is for @tangledinlove, my beloved, who without i'm not sure if i would be back to writing this as enthusiastically. or at all. your writing gives me a home to return to and tons of love. thank you for that.
after the cancellation of s2, i got really unhappy, especially with my writing/the story compared to the other gems on this platform, so if this at some point disappears or i stop uploading, i'm sorry in advance. until then, i keep going and creating for you guys a second home as best as i can. love you all ♥
04: there's a kind of calling
shoulder the sky (i can’t wait to show you how much)
open those eyes (i know you can be, just let the rain come)
there’s a kind (let the rain come down, darling)
(can’t you hear it howling?) of calling, calling
— The Amazing Devil: The Calling
He stands tall in the doorframe, like a praetorian from the elite Roman military force, spatula in one hand to strike, a saucepan lid, fogged from condensation, in his other hand to defend. Most importantly though, he is not wearing any pants.
Lockwood gives him a dejected look. “George. We talked about wearing no pants outside of your room.”
“I see you brought her back,” George replies, ignoring Lockwood. His small, dark eyes seem exceptionally sharp behind his black-rimmed glasses. “Why did you bring her back?”
Old retirees whose lawns you’ve trespassed on have greeted you more kindly. But as with any building you enter, the rule is not to hesitate at the threshold, so when Lockwood and Lucy walk inside, you follow right after them.
Portland Row at the edge of dawn was enticing like Sleeping Beauty. Now at evening it is something else entirely: a waft of warm, spicy smell engulfs you: tumeric, onions, safran. Roasted chicken, a lemony tang—the whole mix is mouth-watering and for a moment you get dizzy from hunger. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten; your stomach growls more horrifying than the rumbling of a Raw-bones at night.
“Look alive, George, this case is far from over!” Lockwood announces. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the rack, shaking out his wet hair. Cold water is trickling down the back of his neck, dampening his collar. A sudden shower has surprised you on the way back, making the ride back in the cab even more uncomfortable in addition to sitting squeezed next to Lockwood and making sure your knees don’t touch. “And she’s kindly agreed to lend us a hand.”
George eyes you, from top to bottom. His nose twitches a little as though he’s smelling a wet dog, but then he gives a twitch that vaguely resembles a shrug before he ducks into the kitchen. “I’ll get another plate out.”
“Oh, I can get take out—” you start.
“Nonsense.” Lockwood waves in the general direction of the wooden floor, signalling you to leave your bags in the hallway. “George’s food is something you have to try. Zereshk Polo, isn’t it, George? This will also give us an opportunity to decide on what to do next, and share everything we know.”
“Where’s she staying, Lockwood?” Lucy asks. Her wet hair sticks to her forehead and cheeks, and she brushes it impatiently behind her ears. “Last time I checked, we don’t have any spare rooms.” She narrows her eyes at him in a certain way that suggests she doesn’t want you bunking in her room. Not that you mind. You’re not too keen on sleeping in the same room with someone else either.
“The library was fine,” you say, dropping your bags where Lockwood has shown you. “And it’s only for this night. I’ll try and find another place first thing tomorrow.”
Lockwood purses his lips. “I would rather you stay here until we find whoever is out there thinking that you have the key. You have become an essential resource for this case, one I’d rather not put in danger.”
There’s a profound silence, only disturbed by the sizzling in the kitchen and George’s quiet, off-tune humming.
Responsibility. Lucrative agent. Resource. It seems everyone is happy to fit your whole existence into one word; put you inside a cardboard box, slap a postage stamp on your forehead as though you’re some ghastly parcel to be shipped off when taking up too much space; being too inconvenient. Looks like even Lockwood and Co. is no different from the other agencies, a sobering revelation that is surprisingly disappointing.
A flash of bitterness passes over Lucy’s face, but it fades quickly. “Lockwood—” she begins, drawing herself up. Her voice seems dangerously sharp like the edges of broken glass, and standing between them, you’re surprised that your head is not immediately razed off by the laser sharp intensity of whatever weird staring contest Lucy and Lockwood are currently engaged in.
Lockwood’s response is his dark eyebrows drawn together in a puzzled frown. But before he can say something, you speak up, voice sweeter than saccharin, “Your resource would love to take a shower first before we start. Is that OK?”
That’s when Lockwood realises. All colour drains from his face, then comes back as two crimson spots high on his cheeks. “I—”
“Yes.” Lucy’s eyes are still on Lockwood, her voice oddly distant. “I’ll jump into the shower myself, but the boys’ bathroom is just upstairs.” When she brushes past Lockwood, she sends him a glare that is sharper than the rapier she pulls out of her holster and stuffs inside the umbrella rack. “And Lockwood will wait for his turn.”
Suits you just fine. You leave your kit in the hallway and take the bag with your clothes upstairs, past the masks and curios mounted on the wall, wooden-framed pictures and newsletter pages showing a younger Lockwood wearing a full-body fencing suit and grinning into the camera like the Cheshire Cat after winning a fencing tournament. It must be from the memorable day when Kipps got his ass handed to him, one of his less favourite subjects to dwell on from his past. Your chest twinges at the sight—Matthew would have attended too; he had been the best with a rapier out of you three, making it almost look as easy and graceful as dancing.
You draw your shoulders together and follow after Lucy, banishing the thoughts and echoes from the past before they can rise to an awful noise in your head. A shower, some food. A plan. Brick by brick you can rebuild yourself.
Lucy drops you off at the threshold of a small square bathroom, simply gesturing into the room with an awkward wave of her hand. It’s completely white-tiled with simple furniture and a few dried out plants at the windowsill. The blinds are drawn shut and with the sun setting the room is turning darker by the minute. A few dark heaps of clothing lie scattered on the ground, hiding a square vine-patterned rug.
“Thanks,” you say, fumbling along the wall in search for the light switch. Lucy hesitates a moment, and you think she might say something. But then she turns on her heels and stalks another floor up, already starting to peel out of her soaked-in, woolly sweater.
You turn to the bathroom, standing still for a moment just to test how wild your thoughts run, how loud that creature inside your head howls. What a mess you dragged yourself into—or got dragged into, more likely. You’ll have to see Kipps soon and tell him what happened, and look out for a new apartment. You stand there, unmoving, shivering like aspen leave in high wind. One thing at a time. Rome wasn’t built in a day either.
Deposing your bag in a corner, you begin unpacking what you need. A cough from the door has your head whipping around. Lockwood is leaning against the doorframe. He seems to do that a lot, you think. Some guys are just meant to loom.
“Sorry we can’t give you proper accommodations. I’m sure you’re used to different things from the Rotwell dormitories.” His eyes glide over your head as though he’s taking in the bathroom for the first time. He’s playing with the ring on his right hand, twirling it around his thin finger. You force your eyes away from his slender piano-fingers and how hot they felt around your wrist this afternoon.
“Let’s be honest, all that Pomp and Circumstance means nothing.” You return pulling clothes out of your duffel bag. “They didn’t hesitate for a second to throw me out the moment I became an inconvenience.” The confession pries something open within you: an age-old chest of memories you’ve kept firmly locked and tucked away in the recess of your mind, now yielding in his presence. The same thing has happened at the first agency you worked for, shortly after Matthew’s death. Nobody wanted to deal with the broken girl, the grieving girl who wouldn’t leave her room, who was suspended from work and then released. Had it not been for Kipps and someone else, someone very important and influential, you probably would have kept wandering in that darkness forever.
Not wanting to see the pity on Lockwood’s face, you sort your things and move towards the shower, pushing the flowery curtains aside.
After a moment, Lockwood’s voice comes again from the door. “You might want to wait until Lucy’s done upstairs if you don’t want to use the shower George and I use,” he says, but it sounds a little wrong as if those aren’t the words he wants to say but doesn’t know how to get the right ones out.
Wondering what it is he can’t say, you reply without thinking, “It’s OK. I had a brother, I don’t mind sharing with boys.”
Lockwood is very still for a moment. His face has changed. “Had?”
Only then your brain registers what you’ve said. You keep your expression blank when you look at him. “Mind if I take one of your towels?”
Lockwood answers your look alike. Something passes between you in that moment, but you don’t have the words, or insight into him, to understand what it is. He slips past you and pushes a pile of towels off the toilet seat with the tip of his slippers. “Not those. They’re George’s.”
From a bottom drawer, he pulls out a fresh towel. “Here, I, ah … hope you don’t mind.” He hands it to you and immediately, you notice it smells like him—lavender soap and clean cotton. A little like … sunlight. Clean and warm. You quickly snatch it from his hands and turn your face away, afraid he can see what you think.
When there’s nothing left to say, he shuffles out of your way. “Well then, good luck.”
You snort. “With taking a shower?”
“Imagine slipping and breaking your neck on a shower tile. I wouldn’t want a Visitor like that in my house.”
“Fair point.”
He gives a little awkward smile.
You feel the corner of your mouth twitch.
Lockwood pulls the door shut behind him, and you wait until you hear him disappear downstairs before you peel out of your sweat-stinking top and sliced pants. The water is hot on your skin but a welcome change. During those ten minutes your head is blissfully empty and silent, granting you a moment of respite as you focus on how the hot drops pelt on your skin. After another ten minutes, you step out before they assume you managed to drown like a turkey.
You quickly scrub yourself dry and slip into some comfortable clothes. It’s a wonder what a little cleaning up and a set of fresh clothes can do to make you feel like a normal human again. Now, if Karim’s food tastes as good as it smells, you might sleep like a baby tonight.
The steam follows in wispy tendrils out onto the floor when you open the door. The sound of clattering dishes and voices draws you downstairs where you pause at the kitchen’s entrance, unsure if you should step in. It feels as though you’re about to intrude into their sacred space—their safe haven.
Before you can think of sneaking off and getting take-out, Lockwood spots you. He’s taken off his tie and opened the first buttons of his shirt. When he moves, you see the elegant curves of his collarbones, like the frail wings of a small bird. “Come on in,” he says. “You’ll love George’s cooking.”
You blink, dazed. Step in. The smell of exotic spices engulfs you. Your mouth waters at the sight of the colourful dishes—fresh tomato and onion salad, fluffy steaming rice, an assorted cutting board with nuts, olives, feta cheese and Gouda. It is a feast fit for royalty.
As they settle around the table, you take the seat at the other side of Lockwood. Someone’s already piled an enormous mountain of rice with a beautiful golden chicken leg on top on your plate. You prepare your stomach with some strong herbal tea and freshly backed garlic naan before you dive for the main course. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten a home-cooked meal, not to mention something this delicious.
“So, what did you guys find?” George asks with his mouth full. “I doubt she’d be here otherwise.”
You hardly care about his flippant attitude—not with the savoury, and slightly spicy rice dancing on your taste buts. So you just slide over the coin towards the table’s centre. Three heads lean forward. You keep chewing, blissfully relishing in the taste and texture.
“George, do you know what kind of coin that is?” Lucy asks, her lips curled around a straw as she drinks orange juice.
He picks it up, a piece of naan tucked between his teeth. In an instant, he is out of his chair and moves out of your sight. You hear a door to your right swing open, leading down to the cellar, you think, as you watch George disappear downstairs. The few minutes he’s gone you spent in polite silence, too engrossed in eating your way through the assorted finger food plates George has prepared. When he returns, he’s already inspecting the coin through a bronze magnifying glass.
“It’s not a coin, for starters,” George says. “I think it’s a … a badge? But the pins broke off, that’s why you mistook it for a coin.”
“And the symbol?” Lockwood leans closer to George, exhibiting more interest in the small object than his dinner plate. You’re already halfway done with yours. “Any idea what it could be?”
George chews on his bottom lip. “Hard to say. I mean, the symbols by themselves are pretty clear. The infinity symbol was first used mathematically in the 17th century, but it’s much, much older, dating back to Viking Age. In modern mysticism, it’s become identified with a variation of the ouroboros, that’s my closest guess. The cross is a lot more straightforward, but I doubt you want to listen to me going into Christianity in front of your salads.”
“You think you’ll have more luck finding something in the Archives?”
“The problem’s not the lack of books on symbology—it’s the opposite. It’ll take weeks to go through all and find what we might need. And for whatever reason there are even more in the restricted section; I know because Bobby Vernon doesn’t shut up about it whenever he thinks he has to be especially annoying.”
“I’m surprised he can reach the door handle.” Lockwood pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “And we’ve got no luck yet getting the access permit for our agency.”
Lucy leans over and helps herself to more rice. “Any specific reasons why?”
Lockwood scowls, and quickly glances your way. “It seems that we are too small an agency to have access to the restricted sections,” he explains, clearly unhappy.
Lucy presses her lips into a flat line. George keeps his eyes on the badge, his free hand draws the same symbol on the table cloth, his food forgotten for the moment.
“I could always ask Kipps to task Bobby to find out what this is,” you offer. “Kipps, remember him? The guy you were supposed to work with on this case.”
“It is easy to forget him, why with his little to no contribution to pretty much anything,” George replies.
Lockwood clears his throat. “Well, since technically the case is solved because we’ve contained the source, I don’t necessarily need him.” He pokes around his plate. “And since he’s paid his debt to me, I’d prefer not owing him in return.”
You shake your head. Men and their fragile ego. “In that case, I might have something for you.” You grab a handful of nuts from a small bowl and move to the hallway. Your kit is still where you’ve left it and a quick search gets you what you need.
Back in the kitchen, you flick the library pass in front of George, and relish in noticing his standoffish attitude wiped away by genuine surprise for a moment.
“Rotwell has its own research department for cases,” you explain. “We field agents don’t get access to the restricted areas, but someone didn’t pay attention when I applied. I’ve always had permission to enter.”
George touches the edges of the little plastic card as though it is a golden credit card. “You mean, I can just take it? And use it?” There’s a sparkle in his eyes, vibrant and strong and very much infectious.
“Unless you want me to ask Bobby—”
George beams at Lockwood. “I’ll go to the Archives first thing tomorrow.”
“There seems to be just one problem,” Lucy points out, tapping the plastic card with a black-polished finger. “Unless you’ve got a surprise prepared for us, George, you are not a girl.”
Everyone looks at your name in bright red letters on the card.
George scoffs. “Gender is just a social construct—”
“Luce, go with George and see if you two can find anything about that symbol,” Lockwood says. “Be discreet and cautious; don’t let anyone know what you’re looking into. Maybe you’ll find additional info on the case we have tomorrow. You know, the one for that man who looks like a rat. Best take your kit with you.”
Lucy hesitates for a moment, sharing a quick glance with George. “What are you going to do?”
Lockwood’s eyes find yours—you’ve had an idea about how to proceed next when he offered you to stay at Portland Row. Knowing what will come puts a damp on your appetite.
“We could go back to where we found the key,” Lockwood says to your surprise—something completely different than you have expected. “See if there’s anything where it could fit.”
“Who gave you the job?” you ask. “I want to know more about that Visitor. What do you know about him?”
“Nothing.” George goes back to wolfing down his food.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Lockwood repeats severely.
“You’re joking.”
“Last time I checked, we’re agents,” Lockwood says mildly. “Not comedians.”
“Kipps would usually say you’re more like clowns.”
Lockwood clears his throat. “It was supposed to be an easy job. Secure the source, stop the Visitor. DEPRAC had the job available for agencies but everybody gave up on it at one point. We read the file, so we knew what would wait for us. It got to one Dullop and Tweed operative, ghost-locked him. Another one died, unlucky fellow.” For a moment, Lockwood pauses and watches a drop of condensation run on the inside of his orange juice glass. “The client’s the Abbey Mills Pumping Station. About five months ago, they started undergoing reparations on their flooded C Station Pump House. We think that’s what laid the Source bare, it must have been submerged in the water until they started draining the station because that’s when the workers began reporting a permanent chill in one area. They started avoiding that area owning to feelings of faint depression and nausea, followed by strong miasma, ghost-chill, the feeling of being followed and watched while working. Some felt horrible anger towards their colleagues. Up to the point where they would be consumed by it, started beating each other with spanners and shovels. They found the first victim drowned, though it wasn’t clear if it was another employee or the ghost’s fault. Gave DEPRAC quite a headache, figuring out it’s a ghost problem, then finding an agency that can find the source. They dubbed him the Phantom of the Sewage Cathedral.”
You pull up your nose. “Quiet a title. That Visitor must have died there then,” you wager. “Have you checked the station’s accident log?”
“Of course not, we’re bloody amateurs,” George says drily. You bite back a sharp retort. “Nothing in the log stood out. Of course it had its fair share of accidents. It finished construction in 1868 and we all know they didn’t care much for worker’s safety back then. But during the flooding two years ago, there we no fatal accidents. No one died. And when we located the Source, there was no body.”
“You think the key got in there at some point? From where?”
George shrugs. “Anywhere? The pumping station lifts sewage from the London sewerage system into the Northern Outfall Sewer and the Lee Tunnel, which both run to Beckton Sewage Treatment Works. They key also doesn’t look like it’d fit anywhere in the pumping station. I assume it’s older than that. I’m talking 16th-century older.”
“But the thing is,” Lucy says, her hands pressed flat against the table. Her eyes are wide open, glinting. “The ghost we saw is nowhere near that old. The clothes he’s wearing are from the modern era, and he wasn’t decomposed or rotting. I don’t think he’s been dead for that long. It’s sad, isn’t it? He died and to this day, nobody knows he’s gone … nobody is looking for him.”
“Yes, yes, very unfortunate.” Lockwood waves her concern away with an impatient wave of his hand. “I am more concerned for the living though. Not only have we a dangerous Visitor on us. Whoever is looking for the key isn’t afraid of using violence to get it.”
“Maybe the ghost would find his peace if only someone brought him justice,” Lucy shoots back. You notice the anger flashing in her eyes when she looks at Lockwood, hear the impatience in his voice when he brushes her concern for the ghost off like that. Interesting.
“That’s not much to go on,” you say into the silence of Lucy and Lockwood glaring at each other. Your eyes trail around the kitchen, set on the window. Through it you see part of the garden, unkempt and overgrown. Somehow you can’t imagine them sitting out there and drinking apple juice from the apple trees, Lucy in a floaty knee-length skirt and sandals, and Lockwood with a blue cotton shirt, an enormously baggy pair of shorts with flowers on them, and sneakers. “We don’t have a name, no history, and the Visitor might not have any connection to where you found his source.” You chew slowly, cogs turning in your head. When your eyes catch George’s, he is watching you, calm but with intention. You lower your spoon, appetite ebbing away.
“Oh, but we do have one last thing that might help us.” George leans forward, brown eyes gleaming behind his spotless glasses. His face is predatory but his voice is gentle. “Our psychic Talents.”
The bottom falls out of your stomach. It’s like putting a foot wrong on a frozen creek, the crack of ice, the sudden stop, the knowledge that there is nothing beneath but dark water.
“So that’s why you guys really want me here.” Your accusation bears no malice, just the chill and composition of a sniper routinely loading a rifle before making her hit. “Did it ever cross your mind I might say no?”
George falls back into his chair, a deceptively relaxed posture but from the way he flexes his hands on the table it looks as though he’s gearing up for a fight. “It’s the best lead we got. A psychic connection to the ghost might give us a hint on who murdered—”
“We know who murdered him,” you snap. “The same person who wants to put me six feet under next.”
“Would be the logical conclusion, but we’ve made the same mistake once. It’s never that simple.”
“George.” That’s Lockwood’s voice, calm yet firm. You wouldn’t describe his posture like George’s, slouching in his seat; Lockwood is leaning back, fingers steepled. He holds your gaze, purposefully, and you have to look away from its intensity. “No more experiments with psychic connections, we agreed to that.” His brown eyes slide lazily toward Lucy who has her mouth open in what seems like protest, but immediately closes it. For a moment you think her gaze sets on the ceiling as though there is something beyond the brick and mortar, an area or room in this house that would underline her point.
The question mark must be evident on your face. “My speciality is Listening,” Lucy explains. “Touch amplifies it sometimes, but I didn’t get much except sounds from the key, rapid footsteps, shouting, a gunshot—”
“Yeah,” you quickly say before the tang of stale water and foul soil can spread on your tongue. You try and wash it down with tea, welcoming the scalding heat in your mouth. Absently, you rub the spot on your chest where you know the Visitor was shot. “Yeah, I know, it’s uh … not a pleasant source.”
“I’d like to deal with a pleasant source for once,” George mumbles. He’s finished his plate, fingers tapping now on the edge of the table. He flicks impatient looks at Lockwood, who pretends not to notice. “So basically, the only thing we can do now is trying to find something in the Archives, at least regarding that symbol. Oh, and hoping whoever’s after that key doesn’t break in here next. That would be annoying, since it wouldn’t be the first time, and I’m quite fond of our new rug.”
“I know what you’re trying, George,” Lockwood says, with the annoyance of a man who’s already said this often enough, and who also wants to move past this specific topic but can’t. “If this were our last resort, I still wouldn’t force her—or anyone to do something this dangerous.” He’s crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed. The fact that he’s mindful of your discomfort using your Talent comes as a genuine surprise.
“You didn’t seem to mind the first time I did it,” you throw in, watching him intently. Lockwood’s shoulders draw together.
“Technically, it was Kipps who brought you in,” he says. “I do want this case solved, but I am against getting involved with ghosts in any way.” His eyes rest on Lucy for a moment, heavy and contemplative. She makes an impressive job of not meeting his gaze.
You look down at your hands as though the answer of all your problems lies within your gloved palms. Either you stick to Lockwood’s plan, keep your hands away from the key, or you stop running from your own Talent. If what you interpret correctly between the unsubtle allusions of Lockwood, Lucy’s Talent doesn’t appear to be your run-off-the-mill Listening either.
A muscle in your jaw clenches, as though you’re chewing on your words before you speak. Finally, you breath, “OK. Let me do it.”
Lockwood stirs in his seat. “You don’t have to.”
“I know. But I hate sitting around and doing nothing even more.”
“All right,” he says slowly. “That means you two stick to the plan and go to the Archives tomorrow. I’ll meet up with you down at the factory for our case.” Lucy and George nod. Lockwood turns to your next. “And you and me will try and see what else the Visitor can show us.”
“Are you sure it’s going to be OK with just you two?” Lucy asks.
“We should start right after dawn breaks,” you say, “when the ghost is at his weakest. What can go wrong?” It will turn out later the answer to that is simple: everything.
taglist: @helpmelmao, @simrah1012, @chloejaniceeee, @fox-bee926, @frogserotonin, @obsessed-female, @avelinageorge, @quacksonhq, @wordsarelife, @bilesxbilinskixlahey, @che-che1, @breadbrobin, @anxiousbeech, @charmingpatronus, @starcrossedluvr, @yourunstablegf, @grccies, @sisyphusmymuse, @ettadear, @a-candle-maker
#lockwood show#lockwood books#lockwood & co#l&c#lockwood x reader#lockwood x you#lockwood x y/n#anthony lockwood x reader#anthony lockwood#lockwood netflix#lockwood and co reader#reader isnert#lockwood and co reader insert#phill.l&c
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TBOSAS: my second read annotations
"Who were all these people hanging around on a weekday at the zoo? Didn't they have jobs? Shouldn't the children be in school? No wonder the country was such a mess." (P.49)
Annotation: omg he sounds like a Tory, boy shut upppp
"Without turning he knew it was the girl, his girl, and he felt immense relief that he was not entirely alone." (P.49)
Annotation: you cannot convince me he sees Lucy Gray as an equal. His possession isn't romantic it's degrading.
"She ran her thumb over the glossy, white surface and slipped the petal into her mouth, closing her eyes to savour the flavour. 'Tastes like bedtime.'" (p.42)
Annotation: Literally consuming the symbol of his wealth -> foreshadowing him leaving the capital for her/because of her.
"She parceled out her roses like diamonds, though, so it has taken a good bit of persuasion to get this beauty." (P.38)
Annotation: roses - Snow's symbol from a sought gift and sign of wealth, plus ties to his mother. In THG they (the roses) are all white (a lack of colour representing Lucy?) and used as threats.
Addition: I think some of the rose symbolism for snow is obvious of course. Something beautiful but with thorns. And him gifting one to Lucy Gray as a token that represents him being another sign of ownership which creeps up throughout. And this parallels his interactions with Katniss and the rose in Mockingjay where it serves as a reminder that he will always own her.
"'Imagine how terrified she must be, Coryo,' Tigris has said. 'How alone she must feel If it was me, anything you could do to make you feel like you cared about me would go a long way. No, more than that. Like I was of value.'" (p.37-38)
Annotation: The way she has to remind him about empathy.... Snow is not an empath.
Addition: Tigris spitting bars as usual.
"The mayor glowered at the camera as he slapped his hand into the second bag and pulled several slips out. A few fluttered down to the stage as he read the remaining paper. 'The District Twelve boy tribute is Jessup Diggs.'" (p.29)
Annotation: the sealing of fate done so carelessly? Doesn't the boy even deserve grace?
Addition: something about this just hurt, after Lucy Gray slipped the snake down Mayfair's dress the Mayor doesn't even have the courtesy to be careful picking out a name. And the way the other names fall it truly is just terrible luck for Jessup, any of those names could have been it. It really hits how many children stand on the execution block at this moment.
"This District 12 girl? Could there be a bigger slap in the face?" (P.22)
Annotation: foreshadowing (or preshadowing) Katniss. Snows weakness since the beginning has been underestimating the districts. And his own self-imposed importance
"'You forget I'm part of that litter,' said Sejanus hoarsley."
Annotation: oh Sejanus baby :/
"He thought of people putting a price on her [Tigris]. With her long, pointed nose and skinny body... She had a sweetness, a vulnerability that invited abuse... The idea made him feel sick and helpless, and consequently, disgusted with himself." (P.4)
Annotation: weren't so disgusted to not do it to Finnick though we're you?
Addition: Collins very neatly tries to handle SA as a topic in a way that is palatable to the age range of her books whilst also not dismissing it. On a series built on exploitation it would be a disservice to recognise the role SA does play in this on all sides. It's especially interesting how Snow later becomes an abuser and SA facilitator when it suits him despite his revulsion here. I don't know if that's because he cares about Tigris or the damage to their reputation if she sold her body as he is alluding too.
\/\/\/\/\
I don't normally do posts like this and I doubt people care but if you do wanna see more feel free to let me know! Also had no idea how to format these so included text IDs below for accessibility/legibility. Anyway have my dumb thoughts.
#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#coriolanus snow#lucy gray baird#the hunger games#thg#sejanus plinth#if you can't tell i absolutley hate snow#book annotations#reading#bookblr#TW: SA#tw: sa mention
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Just thinking while I'm excited to see Lucie and Connor's reaction to Lio and Sav having a baby...
Did we see Nico/Lexi and Emma/Timos reactions to eachother announcing their pregnancies?
So, we saw Emma tell Nico about Lio in part 4 of Loving & Leaving. Probably not as exciting as she had anticipated with her first. But let's look at how Nico and Lexi tell Timo and Emma about Lucie...
It's Sunday night family dinner at Timo and Emma's new house in the suburbs. They moved in almost a year ago now, but it still feels new for Nico and Lexi having to drive to see them.
Timo greets them at the door with a sleepy Lio, a pacifier stuffed into his mouth. His head is on Timo's shoulder but he grins widely when he sees his auntie and uncle.
"Hi buddy!" Nico exclaims, wiggling his finger into Lio's fist. Lio grins around his pacifier, then reached for Uncle Nee to snuggle. Knowing he is going to have one of these soon, Nico holds Lio extra tight.
Dinner is ribeye steaks, perfectly grilled by Timo, salad and roasted rosemary potatoes. Nico and Lexi were in charge of dessert, which is homemade and will help them reveal their biggest, most precious secret: Lexi is pregnant with their first baby. Lio is going to have a baby cousin soon and although it is still early- Lexi is only 8 weeks pregnant- they don't want to wait anymore.
"Are we ready for dessert?" Lexi asks, anxious to reveal the cake to her sister and brother in law.
"Yeah!" Nico nods along, giving Lexi a kiss on the cheek that feels giddy against her skin. She chuckles, turning to capture his lips for a moment.
They all grab their dishes and pile them up by the sink to be taken care of later. Emma grabs the cake from the back counter, then finds the small, dessert plates in the cupboard.
"Do you want to cut it up?" Emma asks, handing over the knife to Lexi.
"Yeah! Also, actually, I worked really hard on this cake. I was wondering if you could take a picture of Nico and I with it?"
"Sure." Emma says brightly, grabbing her phone out of her pocket. She watches them get together. "Nico, get in closer. Act like you like her." His sister rolls her eyes. Nico is trying to create separation so that when Emma inevitable flings herself at Lexi, he can move away from the chaos. For now, he scoots in closer. Lexi takes the foil off the cake, then grins as she tilts the cake towards them.
"Whoa!" Timo exclaims when he sees it. Emma is too busy taking pictures.
"Yeah, work those Hischier dimples." Emma giggles at her brother, then pulls her phone down, looking back at the picture. Her eyes drift over the cake, then she slaps her hand over her mouth as she shouts.
Written in red atop white frosting are the words: We are going to be parents!
"Oh my god!!!!!" Emma starts screaming. She shoves her brother out of the way, grabbing Lexi hard into her chest as she bounces up and down. "You're pregnant!!!!"
"I am!!!"
"When are you due!?"
"December 4th!"
"Oh my god!" Emma starts to cry, gripping Lexi's shoulders. "Oh, you are going to be the best mama." Emma assures her. Lexi's eyes begin to well with tears.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Emma insists. Gratitude of not having to do any of this alone blossoms in Lexi's chest. Emma is here for her. "How are you? Tell me everything. Oh! Do you need ginger ale? I felt so icky after I ate with Lio."
"Actually, yeah, I have really needed that after eating."
"I was the same. Those mini cans are life savers." Emma says before she dashes off to the pantry. Nico wraps his arms around his wife, holding her close to his chest. Across the counter, Timo holds Lio, swaying from side to side as the little boy’s eyelashes get heavy from sleep.
"You two are going to love being parents. It's amazing." Timo sigh happily. "All of your love wrapped up in a perfect blend of the two of you... it's indescribable." He smoothes Lio’s hair back, all of the adults watching as he finally surrenders to sleep.
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Puppy Love - Chapter 7
After having some major computer issues, I was finally able to sit down and write today!!
@northern-neighbor @chickensarentcheap @oscars-wifeyyy
A/N: Buckle up, buttercups. This one is going to be wild.
New FCs for this chapter: Jo Trager is Katey Sagal and Denver Trager is Kim Coates (Gemma and Tig together in my own way)
TW: violence
The knock on the door startled Charlotte who had been curled up on the couch reading a book.
“I got it!” Nathan yelled from the kitchen and barreled into the living room, flinging open the front door.
“It’s probably just Jonah.” Charlotte muttered under her breath.
“Oh fuck,” Nathan whisper-shouted.
“Is that any way to speak to your mother?” Jo Trager snarked as she pushed her way past her son and entered the house.
“You don’t seem very excited to see us,” Denver Trager noted as he followed his wife.
“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” Charlotte asked, standing from the couch.
“Why the fuck did we have to hear that you got stabbed from Jeff?” Jo demanded, hugging her daughter.
Charlotte winced. “I was going to tell you.”
“Well, you didn’t. I had to hear from him that you almost died.” Jo released her daughter from the hug and hugged her son.
“It’s not that dramatic, Mom.” Charlotte huffed.
“It was that dramatic, though.” Nathan released his mom.
“He also said you were having delusions and you had him arrested.” Denver hugged his daughter gently, placing a kiss on her head.
“That wasn’t a delusion. That actually happened, too.” Nathan shrugged. His mom slapped him on the back of the head. “Wow, Mom! What the fuck?” He rubbed the sore spot.
“That’s for you not picking up the fucking phone and calling us yourself!” Jo snapped.
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I know you love Jeff and all but he tried to kill Charlotte so maybe don’t love him anymore’?” Nathan huffed.
“That would be a fucking start.” Jo growled.
“Nathan, why don’t you go make some coffee? Let’s sit down and I’ll explain everything.” Charlotte sighed.
“What are we doing here?” Jackson West asked his training officer as they pulled up to an unfamiliar house. There had been no calls that had come over the radio.
“Friend texted me,” Doug Stanton said. “His girlfriend hasn’t been answering her phone. He asked me to do a welfare check.” Doug put the shop in park and started to get out of the car. The address was familiar to Jackson but he didn’t know why. Doug stopped him at the walkway leading up the house. “You can wait here.”
Jackson nodded curtly and watched his T.O. walk up to the door and knock. He pulled his phone out so he could text Lucy about how it was bullshit that he was waiting on the sidewalk.
“Can I help you?” A man Jackson didn’t recognize answered the door.
“I’m looking for Charlotte Trager.” Doug answered. As soon as Jackson heard the name, he quickly scrolled through his contacts, and tapped Lucy’s name
“And who are you?” The man asked.
Doug scoffed and gestured to his uniform. “I think it’s pretty apparent who I am.”
“What do you want with my sister?”
“We got a call from a concerned friend that they hadn’t been able to reach Charlotte. They asked us to check on her to make sure she’s okay.” Doug smirked.
“Jackson,” Lucy answered smiling. “How’s it going?”
“I’m texting you my location. You need to get here now.” Jackson said quickly.
“Why? What’s going on?” Lucy immediately became concerned and shot Tim a look.
“Doug said his friend asked us to do a welfare check on his girlfriend.” Jackson explained.
“I’m putting you on speakerphone. Say that again.” Lucy held the phone out so Tim could hear as well.
“Doug told me that his friend texted him to do a welfare check on his girlfriend.” Jackson repeated.
“What’s so concerning about that?” Tim asked, confused.
“Because he’s doing a welfare check on Charlotte.” Jackson answered.
“If you don’t let me talk to Charlotte, I will arrest you for obstruction!” Doug shouted.
“What’s happening?” Lucy asked as Tim turned the shop’s lights and sirens on headed for Nathan’s house.
“The guy who answered the door won’t let Doug talk to Charlotte.” Jackson sighed.
“Jackson, try to calm him down. Don’t let him arrest anybody. We’re on our way.” Tim barked.
“Easier said than done.” Jackson said as he hung up the phone. “What seems to be the problem?” He asked walking up to the house.
“I told you to stay on the sidewalk!” Doug snarled.
“Maybe I can help.” Jackson shrugged. “Sir,” he turned his attention to the man standing in the doorway, “I’m Officer Jackson West. I’m a friend of Officer Chen’s. Would it be okay if I talked to Charlotte?”
“I’m not letting anybody in my house that says they’re here on her ex-boyfriend’s business.” The man replied.
“You have ten seconds to let me in so that I can talk to her or I am placing you under arrest.” Doug got into the man’s face.
“Mmm,” the man hummed. “I’m pretty sure the law says that I don’t have to let you into my house without a warrant.”
“Sir,” Jackson attempted again, “would you please let me in just to check on her? All I have to do is lay on her and make sure she’s okay.”
“You said you’re a friend of Lucy’s?” The guy asked.
“I am.” Jackson affirmed.
“You can come in. Your friend here has to stay outside.”
“You’re not going in there alone.” Doug glowered. “Officer safety.”
“Fine. Then neither of you are coming in and you can tell that rat bastard to take his fake welfare checks and shove them up his lily-white ass.”
“I am warning you,” Doug snarled.
“I’m fine.” Charlotte said, pushing past Nathan to stand on the porch in front of Doug. Jackson couldn’t help but notice the hatred burning in her eyes.
“Are you Charlotte Trager?” Doug asked.
“You know that I am.” She said through gritted teeth, crossing her arms over her chest. Jackson wondered what that meant.
“Can I see some ID?” Doug asked.
“No,” Charlotte shook her head. “You don’t need to see it.”
“Law says if an officer asks for ID, you have to supply it. Hand it over.” Doug responded.
“I don’t think I will.” Charlotte shrugged. “You’re here on a welfare check. I am telling you my welfare is fine. You can go.” Nathan noticed the tremble in Charlotte’s shoulders but chalked it up to her being nervous that Jeff was mentioned.
“I will arrest you.” Doug stated. “Give me your ID.”
“Arrest me. I don’t really give a fuck.” Charlotte challenged.
“You little bitch-” Doug started.
“Hey!” Nathan shouted.
“Whoa!” Jackson held his hand up to Doug. “There’s no need for that.”
Doug pulled his handcuffs out. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.” Charlotte did as she was instructed. She winced as Doug locked the handcuffs into place. “I’ll take her to get booked in. You stay here and get statements.”
“That makes no sense,” Jackson replied. “How will I get back to the station?”
“I’ll come back for you,” Doug responded.
“What the fuck are you doing to my daughter?”
“Dad, I’m fine,” Charlotte answered.
“Sir, go back into the house before I arrest you, too.” Doug shouted.
“No,” Denver shoved Doug’s shoulder lightly. “Get your hands off my daughter.”
“That’s assault!” Doug screamed. “You just assaulted a police officer.”
“Oh come on! I only shoved you a little. That’s not assault.” Denver laughed.
“Shoving is assault.” Doug turned to Jackson. “Give me your cuffs.”
“I think we all need to settle down here.” Jackson held up his hands. “There’s no need to escalate this.”
“Fine, if you won’t do it, I will. Give me your cuffs and get her into the shop.” Doug shoved Charlotte at Jackson.
“You’re really going to arrest me for a slight shove?” Denver challenged.
“You bet your ass I am. You and your piece of trash daughter can go to jail together.”
“Well, in that case,” Denver shrugged before slamming his fist into Doug’s nose, knocking him to the ground.
“Dad!” Charlotte cried.
“Goddamnit, Denver!” Jo shouted from the porch.
Doug coughed as blood spilled from his nose. “That’s a felony.” He groaned.
Tim slammed on his brakes in front of Nathan’s house, trying to figure out what he was seeing.
“What the hell is going on?” Tim demanded.
Doug coughed some more before standing up. “They’re both under arrest.”
“What for?” Lucy asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“Her for obstruction,” Doug nodded at Charlotte, “and him for felony assault on a police officer.”
“That’s what you get for calling my daughter a bitch and a piece of trash,” Denver spat.
“Jackson, get her out of those cuffs.” Tim glared at Doug.
“You can’t do that!” Doug got in Tim’s face.
“I just did.” Tim shrugged.
“What are you even doing here?” Doug asked.
“Dispatch couldn’t get an answer from either of you on your radios when they status checked you. They tried checking your body cam to see if you were okay but it just shows the inside of your car. They got the location of your shop and had us come check on you.” Tim answered.
“They didn’t status check us!” Doug scoffed.
“How would you know, Officer?” Tim challenged. “It looks like you don’t have your body cam or your radio on you. That’s a real concern.”
“Jackson, did you hear a status check?” Doug demanded.
“No, sir. Remember, I told you at the beginning of the shift that my radio was acting weird but you said we’d just use yours and it would be fine?” Jackson answered quickly.
“Whatever,” Doug spat, “cuff him. He’s still under arrest.”
“I dunno,” Nathan shrugged. “It looked like you tripped and fell to me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Doug whirled on him. “You saw him hit me.” Doug pointed at Denver.
“What did you see?” Tim asked Jackson.
“I wasn’t paying attention to him.” Jackson shrugged, knowing he was going to pay for saying that even if it was the truth but the satisfaction of seeing Doug Stanton laid out was worth it. “He passed Charlotte off to me. My back was turned so I could escort her to the shop.”
“You lying sack of shit.” Doug stomped up to him. “You know exactly what happened!”
“Looks like we have a problem here.” Tim crossed his arms over his chest. “You have been aggressive since we pulled up. Sounds to me like you’re trying to falsify charges because you have a vendetta against Charlotte and this man.”
“That’s asinine!” Doug screamed with rage.
“Ma’am,” Lucy locked eyes with Jo, “what did you see?”
Jo shook her head. “I was talking to my son about how we were going to have to bail these two out. I didn’t see anything.”
“It’s on body camera you stupid cu-” Doug started.
“Hey!” Tim yelled. “You don’t talk to witnesses like that. Jackson, pull up your body cam app on your phone and let’s review the footage.” Tim’s stomach sank and he shot an apologetic look at Charlotte who was rubbing her wrists after Lucy unhooked the cuffs.
“I can’t,” Jackson responded. “The app doesn’t work for me; hasn’t in about a month.”
“What have you done to get it fixed?” Tim asked Doug.
“He never told me it wasn’t working,” Doug glared at Tim.
“Sir, I emailed you about it four times. I have your responses, if you’d like to look at them.” Jackson answered.
“That won’t be necessary,” Doug huffed.
“Then we’re done here.” Tim declared. “Jackson, drive Doug to the hospital to get that nose checked out.”
“Yes, sir,” Jackson said.
“You okay?” Tim asked Charlotte once Jackson and Doug were gone. Tim could see that she looked terrified.
“No,” Charlotte shook her head. Tears started spilling down her cheeks. “It was him, Tim.”
“Him who?” Nathan asked.
“I recognized his voice,” Charlotte whispered, her teeth chattering as her whole body broke out into shivers. “He was the guy who stabbed me.”
Tim swallowed the lump in his throat. He wished he’d been the one to punch Doug. “I’m going to need you to identify who the voice belonged to so I can bring this to Internal Affairs.”
Charlotte nodded before looking directly into Tim’s body camera. “I recognized the voice of the man who stabbed me as the officer you referred to as Doug.”
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After
masterlist
pairing - peter parker x fem!reader
type - angst, fluff
summary - after having your memory washed away, you still find yourself falling for peter
warnings / includes - mild language, food consumption, kind of bittersweet, lil suggestive, steamy make out sesh, takes places after no way home.
————
*gif isn’t mine*
“You’ve come in twice already today! Don’t tell me you actually like our coffee,” Y/n grins.
Peter lets out a bashful smile, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets and shrugging. “I also like the waitress.”
“Oh, really?” she raises her brow, a knowing smile growing on her face. She peers down at the register, typing in Peter’s usual order. “Well, I hate to disappoint, but Lucy is out today.”
“Well, luckily for me, I’m not talking about her,” Peter smiles.
Y/n giggles like a school girl. “Shame. She really would have liked to be missed.”
“Well, she is a nice waitress, but we both know there’s another girl I come here to see.”
She grins up at him. “Just pay here and I’ll get your coffee.”
“Thank you,” Peter says.
Y/n walks away from the register, grabbing a cup and pouring a hot cup of medium-dark roast coffee. Peter stares at her, admiring her from afar. His heart breaks while it heals simultaneously. Seeing her brings back bittersweet memories that made his whole body ache. Seeing her also brought a sense of calmness and reassurance.
Right after the incident, Peter used to avoid anywhere his friends might’ve been. The pain was too much. But as time passed, weeks and months, he found that spending time away from them was doing more good than harm. Especially when staying away from his girlfriend. Although she didn’t remember who he was, she still welcomed him with open arms, creating a new friendship. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough.
Regarding Y/n, the two of them used to date. “High school sweethearts” is what everyone coined them, and they were right. The two were opposites, yet they both fit so well together. Peter was convinced that after she lost her memory of him if he showed up again, she wouldn’t be interested in him because he wasn’t the same boy she had met in high school, and she wasn’t the same girl. But he was corrected as she flirted with him as soon as he walked through the door of the cafe.
It turned out that although she had no recollection of Peter, she was still charismatic and flirtatious. It was obvious that even though he was a stranger to her, her feelings for him never deceased. It gave him a sense of hope that he could rekindle their love.
“Mmhm. You know, your body must be loving the caffeine.” Y/n saunters over to him, placing the hot coffee cup on the counter. She began to put on a lid, becoming too distracted with Peter’s handsome face. The coffee cup slid out of her hands, spilling hot coffee all over her hands and clothes.
“Ow! Dammit!” she groans. Tears prickle the corners of her eyes as the coffee burns her skin.
Peter drops his backpack onto the ground, making his way behind the counter. He grabs a mountain of napkin, running them under cold water and slapping them onto her hands. She lets out a relieved sigh, the corners of her mouth curling up. She laughs bashfully, hiding her flushed from him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy,” she mutters.
“Everyone is,” Peter assures her. “You should have seen me this morning. I was getting out of the shower and I slipped. I ended up breaking my sink counter from grabbing it.”
Y/n’s eyes widen, gravitating towards Peter’s hands that were on hers. His hands were a good size. Strong-looking fingers with veins running across the back of his hand. It was no question that Peter worked out. Even under a button-up shirt she could tell that he was ripped. But was he that strong that he could break a sink counter?
“I-uh - have a lot of strength in my hands,” Peter explains awkwardly.
Y/n laughs, “obviously. You’re cutting off all the blood flow from my wrists.”
Peter’s eyes widens and he jumps back. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I was trying to make your burn better.”
Y/n smiles, “it’s alright, Peter. I was just teasing. Thank you.”
Peter blushes, hanging his head down low. “You’re welcome.”
“Ugh, now I have to change clothes. I don’t even have a fresh pair!” she shakes her head in annoyance.
“I have a fresh pair,” Peter says a little too quickly. “You do?” Y/n asks hopefully.
“Uhm,” Peter’s words falter. He did not have an extra pair of clothes. In wanting to make her happy, Peter offered a false claim. But with the look on her face, he couldn’t disappoint her now. Plus, both her top and bottom were drenched in coffee. What kind of guy would he be to not try to help?
“It’s okay if you don’t. I can live with damp clothes for a day. It’s not the end of the world,” she chuckles. “Although, I do have to wash this apron now.” She unties the back of the apron, pulling it over her neck.
“I do have a spare change of clothes! Can I just, uh, use the bathroom real quick?” Peter asks.
“Yeah, of course. It’ll give me time to wash my apron,” she nods.
“Thanks. I’ll be right back,” he says. He picks up his backpack and rushes to the bathroom, flushing the toilet and sneaking out the window. He swings to his apartment, which fortunately was only a couple of blocks away.
“Hey, May,” Peter greets as he enters the fire escape. He’s met with silence. The pit in his stomach grows and his heart drops as he remembers. May wasn’t there, and she wasn’t going to return.
Peter pushes those thoughts of out of his, focusing on the one thing that truly made him happy and was able to get him through hard time: Y/n. He rushes into his room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants with a graphic t-shirt. He hopes that her apron will cover up the sweatpants enough that her boss doesn’t notice.
He swings out the window, quickly sliding in to the bathroom of the coffee shop. He turns on the faucet and then back off, exiting the bathroom and walking to the front.
“No customers?” Peter asks. “I actually had three. They all asked me why I have coffee on my clothes,” Y/n chuckles.
“Well, I have your clothes. Well, my clothes, technically,” Peter jokes, handing them to her.
“Thank you,” she smiles. “I’ll return them to you… um… when can I do that?”
“I can just come back after your shift to pick it up,” Peter suggests. “Oh, please,” Y/n shakes her head, “that’s so much work. You probably have so much school work to do.”
“I… I do,” Peter nods. Prior to the incident, Peter had been applying to colleges, one of them being MIT. His other friends were able to get in, yet he was not. Since Y/n didn’t remember anything about Peter, he could choose whatever story about his life he wanted to tell her. But he had never been a liar, especially to Y/n, and so he told her what made sense and provide information that was as close to the truth as it could be.
He came to the conclusion of telling her that he was in college, but it was community, and on the way to the cafe. This allowed Peter to come and see her whenever he pleased without suspicion. And as for Y/n, she decided on taking a gap year to figure out what she wanted to major in, and save money. She was seen working at the cafe almost every day, which was a fortune for Peter and allowed him to rebuild their relationship.
“Unless you don’t want me to come over or anything,” Y/n shrugs.
Peter’s eyes widen and he perks up. “No, no! I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just… I never have girls at my apartment.”
Y/n brows raise and she smiles teasingly. “Oh, really? That’s a surprise, actually.”
Peter’s cheeks turn pink. “R-Really?”
“Mmhm,” she giggles. “You seem like the perfect guy to spend time with. You haven’t met any girls at college?”
“I… no,” he shakes his head. “Shame. They’d be lucky to date you,” Y/n hums, peering at him from under her eyelashes.
“I-I… thank you. So would you,” Peter says.
Y/n’s face morphs into confusion. “Wha—”
“I-I mean, someone would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend, too. Sorry. Sometimes I don’t know how to speak.” Peter blushes deeper. He ducks his head down so hopefully, she can’t see.
“No worries. I’m that way, too,” she winks. “So, should I return the clothes after work?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Peter smiles. “I’ll see you then!” Peter spins on his heels, rushing out the door. As soon as he thinks he’s saved himself from embarrassment, Y/n stops him.
“Um, Peter?” Y/n asks. “Yeah?” Peter spins around.
“You forgot your new coffee, and you didn’t give me your address.”
“O-Oh. I’m sorry, again.” he takes out a piece of paper from his backpack, writing down his address.
Y/n begins making him a new cup of coffee. “Stop apologizing, Petey. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Peter nods, his heart fluttering at her nickname for him. He wanted to agree with her in that he had nothing to be sorry for. But contrary to her belief, he did. He had lots to be sorry for.
“Here’s your coffee, Pete. See you soon,” Y/n grins.
Peter reaches out for the cup, his fingers brushing against hers. Their eyes meet and there is a quiet moment where the air between them is thick and warm.
Peter pulls away first, giving her a thankful smile. “See you soon, Y/n.”
————
Y/n parallel parked on the street, reading over the name of Peter’s address. She had to quadruple-check that she was in the correct place. His apartment was huge. She didn’t mean to stereotype him, but it appeared that she did. She thought that since he was in community college, he probably lived in an average apartment with multiple roommates, or maybe with his parents. But that was far from the truth.
She walks to the apartment complex, his folded clothes in her hands. She finds his door and knocks. It swings open almost immediately.
“Oh, hey,” Y/n grins. “Hey! Come on in!” Peter gestures.
“Thank you.” she walks in, jaw-dropping.
Peter’s apartment was like a house. With oak hardwood floors and the windows made the room feel open and lively with the sunshine shining. There was a gray couch and a love seat in the living room with a flat-screen TV. The kitchen was on the other side, beige granite counter on the tabletops with a roomy fridge and a walk-in pantry. The apartment also had an upstairs that she hopes she will be able to see.
“Are you okay?” Peter asks. “Uh? O-oh, yeah,” Y/n chuckles. “Your apartment is beautiful.”
“Thank you. It was my aunt’s,” Peter says. “Oh, really? Is she here?” Y/n asks.
“Um, no. She died a couple of months ago,” Peter frowns. He looks down at his shoes, trying to push away the tears.
“Oh, Peter,” Y/n gasps. She puts his clothes on his couch ledge, taking his shoulder and bringing him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers in his ear, cradling his head and rubbing his back.
Peter closes his eyes and wraps his arm around her. He basks in the sweet scent of her shampoo and her warm and comforting touch. It had been so long since he had hugged her, let alone touched her. It made him almost cry. He forgot about her caring nature, how she was able to comfort somebody in just a couple of words. The sincerity in her voice, the way she didn’t hesitate to hug him. It made his heartache even more than it has in the last three months.
“Was your aunt rich or something?” Y/n jokes as she pulls away.
Peter laughs genuinely. “Oh, I wish. She, um, was dating this really rich guy. This is technically his apartment.”
“Wow. And he left it to you?” Y/n asks. “Yeah,” Peter nods. “He said I can stay during college.”
“Wow, that’s awesome,” she smiles. “Have an extra room for me?” she jokes.
“Oh, definitely,” Peter says, a little too eagerly. Heat crawls up his neck. He steps back, his arms falling to his sides. “I’m joking, obviously.”
Y/n smirks, “obviously.” She walks around the apartment, making her way towards the windows. “The view is beautiful,” she hums as she looks down at Queens.
“It is,” Peter agrees, eyeing her. He slowly walks up to her, resisting the urge to reach out and hug her from behind. He takes a moment to take her in. This is the first time in three months that he was able to see her outside of the cafe. It was the first time in three months she was at his apartment.
Y/n had changed out of his clothes and into a pair of cotton shorts and a Midtown High School t-shirt that was, ironically, Peter’s. He assumed that she had thought it was hers, although it smelled completely different and was a size too big for her. But the knowledge that it was still his sweatshirt that he had loaned her a year ago still warmed his heart.
“Do you have any siblings?” Y/n asks. “No,” Peter replies. “I’m an only child.”
“Lucky,” she mutters. “Oh? How so?” Peter acts completely clueless.
“Well, I have four siblings. One older sister and two younger brothers,” she explains. “They all suck.”
Peter tries to act completely innocent, even though memories of him meeting her siblings, family game nights, and being a big brother to her little ones run through his mind.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Peter says.
“Well, not for my little brothers. I love them to death,” she grins. “Even though they are tyrants who terrorize my parents.”
Peter chuckles at her words and at memories of her little brothers being the worst company.
“Although, they aren’t so little anymore. The oldest one, Tucker, is thirteen now. And my younger brother, Lucas, is ten. They’re growing up,” she sighs.
“They’re still pretty young. Tucker has a couple of years before high school,” Peter states.
“True,” Y/n nods. “And what about your sister?” he questions. From his recollection, her sister and her were the bestest of friends. Although her sister was older than her by three years, the two never failed to stay close. From the day Y/n was born, her parents remarked, her sister was always there for her.
“It’s complicated,” Y/n frowns. “She’s a few years older than me. She just turned 21 and has made a few… questionable decisions.”
“Ah, I see. Well, she is an adult,” Peter notes.
“Yeah, but she never was like that,” Y/n says. “Not saying she was a goody-two shoes or anything, but she always had common sense. And in the last three months, she got a DUI and she had been skipping classes to hang out with this guy.”
Peter frowns in thought. Y/n was right, her sister had never been uptight, but they were all raised with level-headed parents. They all were taught right from wrong and were virtually perfect by the time they left the nest.
“I’m sorry. That seems tough,” Peter says.
“Yeah,” she nods. “And my parents forced her to come home and she tried to invite the guy over. His name is Rufus. A stupid name for a stupid guy. Anyways, she tried to sneak him in and I was home, and I guess she thought that I would help her, but I knew my parents would kill me. I mean, I’m not the most perfect person, and I definitely have lied to my parents. I’m not a saint, but lying to my parents about serious things was lethal. Especially since they were so open-minded and fair. Every time I wanted a guy over, all they asked was to meet his parents and it turned out fine. But Claire is something else.”
“Was Claire mad at you?” Peter asks. “Oh, she was furious,” Y/n laughs sourly. “I had called my dad immediately and they came home from their dinner early. After they had yelled at her, I guess they told her to apologize to me for putting me in that position, but instead she yelled at me.” Tears prickle her eyes and she sniffles.
Peter strides to her, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“She called me a prude and saying how I have a stick up my ass, I’m such a rule-follower that no guy would ever want a uptight girl like me. She also said that I’m never going to amount to anything in life because no one likes a tattle-tale.”
“Y/n,” Peter sighs. “I’m so sorry. That’s not true. I hope you know that.”
“How do you know? The only thing we talk about is you,” she chuckles, wiping her tears away with her sleeve.
Peter opens his mouth and closes it. She was right. How did he know? Ten minutes ago he swore he knew everything about her, but he quickly discovered how wrong he was. Not only his life had changed but hers had, too. He wasn’t the only person going through a difficult time.
“Well, just from talking to you I know,” Peter explains. “If you’re such a rule-follower and tattle-tale, then you wouldn’t have let me have two free coffees a week, now would you?”
Y/n grins sheepishly, “I guess not.”
“I’m sure Claire didn’t mean it. She felt betrayed by you and was hurt. People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt,” Peter assures her.
“Yeah,” she nods. She looks at Peter, a grateful smile on her face. “Thank you. I haven’t told anyone this. I haven’t told anyone anything, honestly. I’ve been keeping it all inside lately.”
“How come? What about your friends?” Peter asks, furrowing his brows. Surely the last three months hadn’t been so detrimental that she had lost Ned and MJ as well.
“They’re both at college at MIT, studying their dreams. My best friend and I talk sometimes, but she’s always so busy. I think the last time we talked was four days ago, and that was just to say “Happy Easter”.”
Peter frowns, “oh, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I have absolutely no friends.”
“Hey! That’s not true. You got me, silly,” Y/n punches his shoulder lightly.
“You consider me a friend?” Peter raises his brows. “Well, of course. Only a true friend would spend like, 50 dollars a day on shitty coffee,” she smirks.
Peter laughs, “I guess that’s true.”
“And speaking of food, do you have any? I am starving.”
“I do not have anything that is like a meal, but we can order something. What are you in the mood for?” He asks.
“Pizza?” Y/n suggests. “Sure,” Peter nods. “I’ll call in an order.”
“Great! And in the meantime, do you mind showing me the rest of your apartment?” she asks, her eyes darting to the upstairs.
“Of course. Lead the way and I’ll tell you about everything,” Peter nods.
The two ended up in his room after the tour and the pizza came. The two were sitting on his bed across from each other, music in the background as they got to know each other.
“How come you don’t have any friends?” Y/n asks. “You seem like someone who would have tons of friends.”
“Well,” Peter sighs. “I was kind of a nerd in high school.”
“A hot nerd,” Y/n mutters, low enough so he wouldn’t hear, but with his super hearing he was able to. He fights the growing smile and attempts to hide his blushing cheeks, but he was unsuccessful.
“What’s wrong?” Y/n asks, her heart beginning to race as she thinks he’s heard her.
“I just get embarrassed when I talk about my life in high school,” Peter lies to save her the embarrassment.
“Oh, I understand. Me, too,” she chuckles. “Oh, really? You don’t seem like the nerd type,” Peter says.
“I wasn’t. I’m more into the liberal arts,” she explains. “Oh. Art, music, literature?” He asks.
“Music,” she smiles. “I play two instruments, well, three, technically. Both acoustic and electric guitar and piano.”
“That’s awesome. You’ll have to play for me sometime,” he suggests.
“Of course! I’ll blow your mind,” she winks.
Peter smiles, “I bet you will.”
Images of her at the piano, singing to him with her sweet voice enters his mind. Her singing voice was heavenly. Music to his ears, literally. He replays the memories of her soloing on electric and strumming on acoustic. She was so talented. Her music abilities were something he had missed dearly.
“Oh, it’s so pretty outside!” Y/n exclaims as she looks out his window. It was nighttime now. The city lights of Queens lit up the streets, the stars shining brightly in the night sky.
“We can go up to the roof and get a better look,” Peter suggests.
“Really?” Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Yeah,” he smiles, loving the way her whole face shined with her smile.
“Ah!” She squeals. “Show me the way!”
He opens his window, crawling up the fire escape, keeping a careful watch on Y/n so she doesn’t fall. The two lay down next to each other, Y/n admiring the night sky while Peter admires her.
“Do you know anything about constellations?” Y/n asks.
“I don’t,” Peter answers. “Me neither,” she chuckles.
She lets out a content sigh, scooting herself closer to him. She tries to get as close to him as she can without making it seem weird. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n had managed to fall in love with him over the last three months.
For some reason, at the end of her senior year, things seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. She didn’t know where she wanted to go to college, all of her courage had suddenly been sucked up and she was scared to apply to Juliard and Berkeley. Her sister and her relationship was broken, and her friends seemed to have forgotten all about her. On top of it all, there was this space in her heart.
She felt as though she was forgetting something, but at the same time, she wasn’t. There was a void in her life and for a little while, it stayed empty and grew bigger and bigger each day. But it seemed as though the universe had seen her struggling and gave her an out. The universe gave her Peter. A kind, handsome, generous boy who had entered the cafe she worked at and entertained her each day.
Y/n grew to love him. At first sight, she flirted with him. How could she not? He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Soft brown hair, the sweetest honey-brown eyes, the kindest smile, bright laugh, not to mention, a great physique. The more she talked with him, the more he visited, she discovered that her feelings for him were not just physical, but very much romantically.
She had been meaning to spend time with him outside of the cafe. She had all these plans for them. Coffee shop date, picnic, inviting him over to meet her family, meeting his, etc. But now that she was here alone with him, she had no idea what to do.
Being in his presence made her nervous, but in a good way. His stare set her body on fire. His touch made her heart warm and her body shiver. She had always been an outspoken, charismatic girl, and that never changed, but he managed to make her question her confidence. Especially since she had no idea how he felt about her.
Peter’s lips upturn as he notices her move closer to him. He could see the goosebumps on the skin of her legs.
“Do you want me to get a blanket?” He asks. “I’d like that,” she nods.
“I’ll be right back,” he says.
Y/n watches as he gets up and disappears down the fire escape. He returns moments later with a soft blanket big enough for the both of them.
“Can we, um, share the blanket?” He asks.
She nods slowly, her heart hammering against her chest. “Yes, of course. I’m not a blanket hog.”
He grins, sitting back down and covering both of them. She moves closer to him, basically sticking to his side. She set her head on his shoulder, her skin becoming warm all over.
“You don’t mind, do you?” She asks. “Not at all,” he shakes his head. Peter slowly slips his arm around her middle back, pulling her a couple inches closer. “Do you?” He echos her.
“Nope. This is perfect,” she breathes out. She inhales slowly, her nose filling with the musky scent of his cologne and deodorant. She stops herself from inhaling again but turned her head so her cheek rested on his body so she could be engulfed in his scent.
“When do you have to be home?” Peter asks, staring down at her. He admires his features as they are outlined by the moonlight. Her soft skin and the couple of blemishes that shower her cheeks. Her perfect nose and arched eyebrows. Her long eyelashes are covered in mascara and her smooth lips that he wanted to kiss so badly.
“Doesn’t matter,” she whispers, obviously lying. “Are you sure? I don’t want your parents to be mad at you,” Peter says.
She smiles and looks up at him, her eyes meeting his. “As long as I’m home before like, two in the morning.”
“Seems reasonable to me,” he nods.
“Even though I’m an adult, they still have rules. I don’t think they care very much, but I know it’s to set a good example for the boys,” she explains.
“Totally understandable,” he agrees. “Plus, it’s only 11.”
“Exactly. We have plenty of time,” she smiles. Her eyes wander his face as silence falls between them. She traces his features, paying attention to every detail so she could commit them to memory. She didn’t want to forget him, ever.
“You’re really handsome,” she breathes out, lower than a whisper. But it’s quiet enough to where Peter can hear her. This time, she doesn’t care if he does or not. She wants him to know how she feels about him. The last three months have been painful for her. As much as she enjoyed getting to know him, she longed to be in his arms, to be close to him, to be his. Now that she had the chance, she wasn’t going to waste it.
“You’re really beautiful,” he compliments, his eyes searching her face.
Y/n’s eyes land on his lips. His perfectly shaped lips that looked so soft. He licks them as he stares at hers with the same desire, making them glisten under the starry night. She sat up on her elbow, towering over him slightly. Newfound confidence overcame her and she took her chance.
“Can I kiss you?” She asks.
Peter’s breath hitches and his mind goes blank. “I-I, um —”
Y/n backs away, becoming ashamed and embarrassed. Had she read all the wrong signs? Was she imagining things? How could she have messed this up?
“I’m so sorry, Pete,” she rushes out. “I didn’t mean to —”
“I want you to kiss me,” he blurts out. Her mouth snaps shut as he keeps speaking.
“I would love it if you kissed me. It would be perfect, in fact, if you kissed me. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long —”
“Good because me, too,” Y/n grins. She crashes her lips onto his, pressing her body against his.
Peter’s eyes flutter close and he melts into her. He suddenly feels complete. Their lips move together in a perfect rhythm, fitting together just like puzzle pieces. Peter’s arm around her waist tightens and his other hand comes up to cradle her cheek, caressing her soft skin.
Y/n lets out a soft moan as she kisses him, nuzzling into his warm touch. Both of her hands grasp at his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. He kisses her passionately and fervently. Taking his time to feel her, but there’s also an urgency to his movements. It’s as if he’s been waiting for this for his whole life. That this kiss sparked something in him.
“Peter,” she sighs against his lips. The sweet sound makes his mind buzz. It’s like he is intoxicated with her. He can’t focus on anything but her. His mind swirls with her scent, how her lips feel, how her body feels. He can’t get enough, and neither can she.
Y/n takes the liberty of rolling them over, swinging her leg over his waist and straddling him. She took a moment to catch her breath, pulling away and sitting back. Peter took in her on top of him, his heart pounding against his chest. It’s so loud in his ears that he’s sure she can hear it, too.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes out. Y/n grins, her flushed face and bruised lips encompassing his mind. “Thank you. You’re so sweet, Petey.” She dives back down, taking his lips into a deep kiss. She slips her tongue inside his mouth, moaning when his tongue slipped against hers.
She kisses him slowly but deeply, putting her all into it. Having his lips on hers, his body against hers, being entranced by him made her feel alive. More alive than she’s ever felt in her entire life. Being with him filled that void to the brim. It seemed like there was barely any more capacity.
“Y/n,” Peter grunts, his hands slipping down from her waist to her thighs. His fingers trace her bare skin, causing her to jolt. It seemed as though electricity played at his fingertips, diving deep into her skin and making her heart palpitate.
Y/n pulls away, eyes fluttering open as she peers over him. “Peter,” she breathes out, a smile lighting up her face.
He stares at her, stars in his eyes. He reaches up to cup her face again, becoming starstruck for the hundredth time. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you. You’re so pretty, Peter.” she places her hands on his chest, leaning down to peck his lips. “I don’t know how anyone wasn’t interested in you in high school. I mean, look at you: perfect smile, charming personality, amazing body, great kisser.”
Peter blushes. “There was this one girl in high school.”
Y/n raises her brow. “And now is the time to tell me?”
“You were the one who brought it up!” He exclaims. She laughs, “I know. Well, where is she now?”
“That doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, speaking a bittersweet truth. “What matters is now. I’m here with you and that’s all that matters.”
He missed their old relationship, but being with her tonight made him realize that the past didn’t matter. He couldn’t keep dwelling on what was. Instead, he should focus on what could be. And what could be would be the two of them. All he ever wanted was to be with her, and the universe had granted him a chance to do so. He wasn’t going to mess up, not like before.
She grins, “you know all the right things to say, Petey.”
“My Aunt May raised me right,” he says. “Hmm, well, I owe it all to Aunt May, then, for raising the perfect guy,” Y/n gushes.
“Would I be even more of a perfect guy if I asked you out on a date for tomorrow night?“ he asks.
Y/n’s jaw drops in excitement. “You have no idea how much more of a perfect guy you’d be.”
“Alright,” he sits up, placing his hands on her waist. “Y/n, will you do me the honor of accompanying me tomorrow night to dinner and dessert?” He asks, taking her hand into his and kissing it.
She giggles like a school girl. “I would love to, Peter.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up when your shift ends?” He asks.
“Well, I need to get ready. So, meet me at my house. You can meet my parents,” she explains.
The first time in three months he felt okay. Sadness still lurked in his heart and ached him all over, but a sense of normalcy overcame him at the same time. For the first time, he could confidently say that he was going to be okay.
“Sounds like a plan,” he grins.
————
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A little late, but the first few chapters of my first-ish Chenford fic are up! They're also prompt fulfillment for @monthly-challenge's Februfluff, day 27: stuck together. First chapter under the cut, the second is up on AO3!
Some people had a hard time believing in the impossible. Lucy Chen had never been one of those people. Sure, it probably helped that she was a vigilante who could manipulate light energy with her bare hands, but that hadn’t always been the case. There had been a time she was just like everyone else.
But that had been a long time ago. Now, when night fell, she was Lyra, one of many vigilantes that patrolled the streets of L.A., looking for people in need and crime to fight.
Usually, her version of crime fighting saw her out on the streets in her disguise, fighting muggers. But there were the occasional circumstances that required a slightly more delicate approach. And today was one of those circumstances— a restaurant that one of her fellow vigilantes suspected was running drugs out of the back room.
Hence why she was sitting at a table in a nice dress, eating dinner across from the last person in the world she would have expected to be sitting across from about two months ago.
Lucy had met Tim Bradford approximately three months into her work as Lyra. Ex-cop turned woodworking shop owner, he’d been serious and a little grim, but respectful. Lucy had been curious about him when Jackson, her roommate, mentioned him, and had slowly gotten to know him better as time went by— his shop was a few storefronts down from the coffee shop where Lucy was currently employed.
Around the same time, she’d met Orion— the stern, incredibly boss vigilante who was known as the Huntsman by local gangs. He was notorious for his intense attitude, vicious but generally nonlethal attacks, and strict adherence to police procedure when necessary.
Lucy had mostly just found him annoying. Especially since he had a habit of showing up in the middle of her work and lecturing her on what she was doing wrong. And he called her “boot” a lot— which, thanks to being roommates with a cop, she knew what meant. This did not make it any less obnoxious.
They’d gotten off to a rough start, but it wasn’t long before Lucy found herself working with Orion more and more often. He was smart, and they made a good team. And he’d saved her life more times than she could count at this point— although it was definitely true the other way around as well. Which Lucy never let him forget.
All things considered, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find out Orion was Tim. The attitude, some of the jokes, the rookie cop nickname and the stickler for procedure attitude? It made perfect sense.
Somehow, it had still surprised her when she found out. Although her reaction had definitely surprised Tim, and Lucy snorted in amusement at the memory.
Glancing up from his steak, Tim lifted an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing,” Lucy said, waving a hand. “Just— do you remember when I found out who you were?”
“You mean when I found out who you were?” Tim corrected her. “I basically handed it to you on a platter.”
Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “As if I didn’t do the same thing for you. Anyways, I was just thinking about it, how I reacted.”
“Oh, I remember that part pretty well,” Tim said with a dramatic wince, and Lucy scoffed.
“If you didn’t want to get slapped, you shouldn’t have called me boot so many times.”
“You’re sounding a little too pleased with yourself there, Chen.”
“Uh-huh.” Holding back a grin, Lucy glanced around the restaurant again. It was a nice place, with a bar at the back and instrumental music playing in the background, overlaid with people’s conversation. You wouldn’t think a place like this would be a front of some kind.
“Hey.” Tim’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked back at him. His expression serious, he said, “Stay sharp. Just because it’s got a pretty cover doesn’t mean the Ghost’s intel is off. Generally, she knows what she’s talking about.”
Nodding, Lucy said, “Right, got it. But— how exactly do we find what we’re looking for, here? I mean, we’re probably not going to just stumble across a cash exchange— and even if we did, we’re civilians right now.”
“Which is why tonight is about surveillance and keeping a low profile,” Tim told her. “We watch the waiters and the rest of the staff, and if we can, we’ll get a look inside the kitchens. Anything we can get pictures or proof of, we bring to Lopez, and she gets a search warrant.”
“Got it.” Tapping her fingers against the tabletop, Lucy resisted the urge to look around the restaurant again. No matter how much she wanted to catch these people, she couldn’t make herself conspicuous. It was better to focus on what was in front of her instead.
Namely, Tim, who looked just as impatient as she felt— if the people around them were supposed to think this was a date, they weren’t giving much of an impressive performance. Time to change things up a little.
Leaning forward, Lucy said, “Okay. Tell me about work.”
“What?”
Lucy couldn’t hold back a grin at Tim’s baffled expression. “Come on— we’re supposed to be on a date. If we just sit here in impatient silence, that’s not really going to sell it.”
Nodding, Tim said, “Good point. Uh… work was good. Celina’s finally learning how to use the woodstain without getting it everywhere, which is an upside. She’s a good kid, though. Nolan was right to hire her— don’t tell them I said that, though.”
“What, do you think they’ll figure out that you have a heart?” Lucy said, raising an eyebrow.
“Exactly. I can’t be seen as the good guy here, you know.” Tim quipped back, and she laughed.
“I’m pretty sure that ship has long since sailed.”
“That’s not what you said when we first met.”
Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “Okay, that barely counts. You were intentionally mean then— wait. Which time are we talking about?”
“Which time are you talking about?” Tim countered.
“The second first time,” Lucy said. “You showed up and immediately started telling me everything I was doing wrong—”
“To be fair, you could have been killed if I hadn’t—”
“—and you wouldn’t stop calling me boot. The first first time you were a lot nicer. Or… less mean, at least.”
“Because you were a customer,” Tim said, taking a drink from his glass of water, “not a rookie vigilante who was about to let a two bit criminal stab her because she hadn’t secured him properly.”
Pointing at him, Lucy said, “See, if this was a real date, this is the part where I’d throw a glass of water in your face and stomp off dramatically.”
Holding up his hands, Tim said, “Hey, you’ve improved a lot since then.”
“Improved?”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
Tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully, Lucy said, “Hmm. How about… “Lucy, you’re the best rookie I’ve ever trained”?”
“First of all, I already said that you were one of the best,” Tim pointed out. “Second of all, you’re not a cop, so it barely even counts.”
“It counts!”
Tim opened his mouth to argue, but something caught Lucy’s eye— a man moving towards the kitchen. In one hand, he held a briefcase, and Lucy could make out the clear outlines of a gun under his suit coat.
“Tim,” she said quietly. His gaze snapped to her immediately, and she nodded to the man disappearing into the kitchen.
Understanding flashed across his face, and she saw his hand twitch, the way it did when he wanted to reach for a gun he no longer wore at his side. “Let’s go,” he said, getting to his feet.
Lucy rose and followed him across the wide main room. None of the other customers so much as glanced at them, and Lucy silently thanked her lucky stars for that.
The main room was partitioned off by low wooden walls framing, but not completely obscuring the dining area. To their left, a walkway led to the entrance. To the right there were two doorways— one leading to the bathrooms. The other at the end of the hall, a swinging door, opened into the kitchen.
As they moved around the corner, Lucy glanced at Tim. “Hey— let me take the first look,” she said, keeping her voice low. “It might look less suspicious if I’m spotted then if you are.”
He gave a brief nod, hanging back a little. As Lucy headed towards the kitchen door, she couldn’t hold back a flicker of pleasure. It couldn’t have been that long ago that Tim wouldn’t have trusted her with this role. Things had changed a lot between them.
Coming to a stop next to the door, Lucy peered over the low swinging door. There was the usual bustle of a restaurant kitchen— cooks weaving their way around each other, the clatter of pans and sounds of voices.
And then Lucy spotted the man with the briefcase. He was talking to another man, with short blond hair and a scar cutting across his brow. The two of them spoke in voices low enough that Lucy couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.
The briefcase sat open on the counter in between them, the contents obscured by the blond man. If I can just get a better angle… Quietly, Lucy stepped closer, her hand coming to rest on the top of the door as she peered into the kitchen.
She caught a brief glimpse of what could only be cash— stacks of it, lining the inside of the briefcase— before the door under her hand moved slightly, letting out what felt like a shatteringly loud creak.
Both men turned at the sound. Lucy’s heart nearly stopped, and she ducked away, turning her face so they wouldn’t catch sight of her. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the noise in the kitchen, but she knew criminals. They were paranoid, and with good reason. Which meant there would be someone out here to check in a few seconds.
She sensed rather than saw Tim moving up behind her. “They saw you?”
“Only barely,” Lucy said. Her heart had regained momentum, and was pounding against her collarbone now. “But someone’s going to be out here soon.”
It wouldn’t be long— and they wouldn’t be able to make it back to their table without being spotted. Better to stay here and come up with an excuse, and there was only one that Lucy could think of.
Spinning to face him, she said, “Kiss me.”
His jaw dropped, just slightly. “What?”
Lucy caught what sounded like a creak behind them. Abandoning any pretense of explaining the situation to Tim, she caught hold of his face, and kissed him.
He didn’t freeze, which shouldn’t have surprised her. Tim was a natural at adapting, and they’d been working together long enough that it wouldn’t be too hard for him to pick up on what was going on.
What did surprise her was the kiss. It was supposed to be awkward, embarrassing even, to kiss Tim. It was supposed to be something she wanted to get over with quickly, and not linger on.
It was none of those things. It was the opposite, and so much more. Her heart was pounding and she knew there was something she was supposed to remember, but all she could really register was Tim— his lips against hers, his hand at her waist, tangling in the fabric of her dress.
And then someone cleared their throat, loud enough that it broke through the trance she was in and reminded Lucy where she was, and why. Pulling back, she made eye contact with the man who’d been carrying the briefcase.
Before he could have a chance to speak, she did. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Lucy said, letting an embarrassed half-smile cross her face. She was pretty sure she was a little flushed, which definitely couldn’t hurt the illusion. “We, ah, we didn’t realize anyone was back here, did we?”
For a minute, she didn’t know if Tim would chime in— he was completely still. Lucy could feel his heart beating against her palm resting on his chest. But then he said, “Nope. Is this area off limits?”
“No,” the man said after a brief pause. “But the kitchen is. Why don’t you two go back to your seats?”
Lucy shrugged, flicking a nonchalant look at Tim. “I guess this can wait until later. Come on, babe.”
Catching hold of his hand, Lucy gently tugged Tim after her, forcing herself to move casually and not look back. When they reached their table, she sank into her chair and looked down at her half empty plate. As Tim sat across from her, she asked quietly, “Is he still watching us?”
“He just turned and went back into the kitchen,” Tim told her, and Lucy let out a long breath.
Finally, she looked up at him. His expression was set in the Tim Bradford Cop Expression, which was… understandable, honestly. “Hey— I’m sorry about springing that on you,” Lucy told him, feeling herself flush a little. “It just seemed like the best move at the time.”
“It was,” Tim said, shrugging. “It kept us from getting caught, so, you know. Good work on that.”
“Yeah, you too,” Lucy said, and nearly groaned at her own words. Things were awkward now— and why wouldn’t they be? It made a lot more sense for things to feel awkward than for them to feel… the way they had earlier.
She shoved the thought aside as Tim said, “I don’t think we’re going to get anything else here tonight. Should we—”
“Call a night, yeah,” Lucy finished for him. “Great idea. We can debrief and regroup tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” Tim turned and waved for a waiter, and Lucy sat back in her chair, holding back a wince.
They paid for their dinner and left the restaurant. Tim had driven them there, so he drove her back to her place first, and walked her up to her apartment. When they reached the door, Lucy hesitated before she went in.
“We’re okay, right?” she asked. The rest of the thoughts that had been boiling in her head came rushing out as she continued. “I— I know it was out of nowhere and— and weird, right? Obviously it was weird, I just know that PDA makes people uncomfortable, so the guy wouldn’t have questioned it as much, and… yeah.”
Tim had waited patiently through her whole rant. When she finally trailed off, he said, “Lucy. It’s fine. I was a cop, remember? I wasn’t a UC, but I still get it. It’s not a big deal.”
“Oh— of course, right,” Lucy said, a little twinge going through her. Of course he’d get it. And of course it wouldn’t affect him. She should never have thought otherwise, even for a second. “Okay, glad we got that settled. Um— talk to you tomorrow?”
“Talk to you tomorrow, Chen.”
And then Lucy was stepping into her apartment, the door was closing behind her, and she was pretty sure she had a headache.
So she did the logical thing and went to bed before Jackson or Tamara could show up and interrogate her about her date or who she’d been with, internally swearing to not think about the whole thing until tomorrow.
Her dreams had other plans. It was like her traitorous brain insisted on reminding her of the kiss— replaying parts of it over and over again until it was hard not to think about it.
Which was stupid. She didn’t have any reason to think about this so much, Lucy reminded herself as she got up to have breakfast before work. It was just one kiss. Didn’t mean anything, especially not from Tim of all people.
Right, her mind said. Tim. Who you used to be interested in. And WHY did she have to remember that right at this moment?
So she’d been interested in him when they first met. She’d been curious about the admittedly handsome, stern stranger who only softened on very rare occasions. But it hadn’t been long before it had been clear to Lucy that Tim wasn’t looking for romance, with her or anyone else. So she’d stuck with just friends, especially after finding out he was Orion. Romance with Orion was unthinkable on a level she couldn’t begin to comprehend.
Or it had been, anyways.
Okay, enough of that. Lucy pushed the thought out of her mind. And continued to do so as she got ready and went into work.
Lucy had worked at Wellington’s Coffee for almost a year now. It was a nice shop— the decor practical and sturdy, matching the personality of the owner, and the wide windows at the front filled the blue walled shop with light. And, luckily for Lucy, she clocked in today right when the lunch rush started. So she had plenty of time to take her mind off of the fiasco that was last night.
Not that that stopped her co-workers from bombarding her with questions. And they weren’t the only ones.
“So, did I hear you went on a date last night?”
As Lucy passed Aaron his coffee, she frowned at him. “Where did you hear that?”
“If I tell you, will you answer the question?” he countered. The younger man was a usual at their shop, and a good friend. He was also a little too invested in Lucy’s love life ever since she’d asked for his advice on how to break up with her last boyfriend.
Sighing, Lucy said, “Yes. To both, but it wasn’t a big deal— I don’t think we’re going to go out again.”
Aaron’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Cause that’s not what I heard.”
Lucy frowned. “Okay, where exactly are you getting this information?”
“Uh—”
“Lucy!”
Both she and Aaron looked up at the voice calling her name. Tim was striding across the coffeeshop towards her, his expression serious. Which was pretty on brand for him, but Lucy had gotten good at reading the different types of seriousness. There was definitely something wrong right now.
Giving Aaron a brief nod, he turned to her. “Hey. We need to talk.”
“Okay,” Lucy said. “I don’t think anyone’s using the break room right now— follow me.”
She moved out from behind the counter and towards the door marked “employees only” at the back of the shop, Tim on her heels. As she moved, she saw her co-worker, Dark, moving out of the back room, and waved to get his attention. “Hey— I’m taking my break. Can you watch the register?”
“...sure,” Dark said slowly, his voice making it clear he had some questions. Most likely about Tim being there— but honestly, Lucy had neither the time nor energy to handle that.
The break room was, as predicted, empty. Lucy didn’t bother taking a seat, but turned to face Tim. “Okay— what’s up?”
He hesitated, which was definitely rare for him. “Ah… okay. We were seen last night?”
Frowning, Lucy said, “Wait. What do you mean— we weren’t even there as Lyra and Orion, how could we be seen?”
“Not… that kind of seen,” Tim said. “My former watch commander was there having dinner. With his wife.”
What does— and then it clicked, and Lucy’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, no— did they see—”
“If he and Luna’s visit to the shop this morning, and her comments about the lovely young woman I had with me are anything to judge by… yeah.”
“Crap,” Lucy whispered, with as much emphasis as she could muster up. Starting to pace back and forth, she rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Okay. This is fine— we can figure this out. I mean, we can’t tell them we were undercover, but we can figure this out. What did you tell them?”
Grimacing, Tim said, “That it was a one time thing, and they were reading too much into it. I don’t think they bought it— and they’re not the only ones who know. Luna told their daughter, who’s friends with Nolan’s kid, who told him, who told Celina—”
“Who told Aaron,” Lucy finished, the realization hitting her like a bus. “That explains a lot. Ugh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to blow up this way.”
“Hey,” Tim said, his voice stern but with just a hint of gentleness that definitely didn’t make Lucy’s heart flutter. Because that would be absurd. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this.”
“Couldn’t have predicted our friends being incredibly nosy?” Lucy said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Well, that’s pretty much a given at this point,” Tim said wryly. “But it’s still not your fault. They’ll forget about this after a week or two— let’s not worry about it right now.”
“Right,” Lucy said, nodding. “Focus on the job instead. Um… oh! I saw what was in the briefcase last night.”
She gave Tim a quick recap of what she’d seen, from the cash to the man with the scar who’d received it. He listened with a deep, thoughtful frown, not speaking until she finished her description. “I’ll have to check with Lopez— but that does sound like a felon she’s been watching for a while now— Valen Rudor, I think. Guy’s got a long list of charges, and a warrant out for his arrest. But if we can’t get proof he’s there—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy said, nodding slowly. “Okay— any ideas how?”
“Actually, yeah,” Tim said. “It involves going back to that restaurant again tonight, and you doing some light sneaking while I start a fight. You game?”
Oh, this was a bad idea. After the first time, putting herself in a situation where she had to pretend to be Tim’s date again? There was potential for this to end very badly.
But there was a dangerous felon out there who needed to be stopped, and Lucy didn’t back down from a fight. “Count me in,” she said.After all, she thought as she headed back to work, what’s the worst that could happen?
#februfluff2024#chenford#tim bradford#lucy chen#aaron thorsen#the rookie#tucy#tw drug mention#tw kissing#fake dating#writing stories is a kind of magic too
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