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redrose10 · 2 months

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Here is Chapter 17! There’s going to be one more little chapter that I’ll post in a day or two that is pretty much just pure fluff. But chapter 17 basically closes out this story. Thank you to everyone that has read and stuck with me through this. I know the story got a little all over the place at times, but this is the first multi chapter fic I’ve ever written and I never planned for it to go this far to be honest. I appreciate all of the comments and messages as always!

I posted a teaser for a new story that I’ll start releasing in about a week or so and I might also have this idea for a little Drabble series type thing about a relationship between Yoongi and his co-worker (Y/N) and how their relationship blossoms while he’s fulfilling his military requirements through his civil service assignment.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,496

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

Your eyes kept switching between Yoongi, Mia, and Suri. Jin already looked like he’d rather be anywhere else besides sitting at this table right now. Yoongi hadn’t taken his eyes off of Mia and you weren’t sure who was enjoying it more, her or Suri. Finally after what seemed like hours Yoongi walked forward taking a seat across from Mia and you followed close behind taking a seat next to him.

Mia reached across to grab his hand and to your surprise he let her. A small blush crept across his cheeks. “Yoongles how have you been? You’re looking really good.”, she spoke making you roll your eyes at the nickname.

Your attention was pulled elsewhere when Suri suddenly called your name, “Y/N, I doubt Yoongi ever told you, but him and Mia were engaged. Unfortunately it didn’t work out. They make such a cute couple though, don’t you think?” You glared at Suri while you tried to figure out her game. She wants Yoongi so bad, but here she is gloating about what a great couple Mia and him were.

“Yoongles we should get together sometime. You know maybe get dinner or something. Then we can go back to your place and I can do that thing for you that I know you like.”, she said with a smirk running her fingers up and down his hand. Yoongi still hadn’t said anything since the two of you walked in the door. You’re not sure what came over you, but you reached over ripping his hand out of her reach and pulling it down onto your lap, “No thank you. He has a WIFE who’s more than willing to do anything and everything that he likes and more so he doesn’t need some cheating, selfish, gold digger like yourself in his life.” Everyone at the table looked at you with wide eyes and jaws dropped surprised by your little outburst. For the first time Yoongi acknowledged you by giving your hand a little squeeze.

Mia chuckled, “Oh Y/N, he really brainwashed you didn’t he? Do you think he actually cares about you let alone loves you? I heard all about it from Suri. I’m not surprised really. I mean he’s a successful, handsome, wealthy businessman and you are a poor orphan girl who will never be anything other than that. You were nothing more than a good deal to him and his family. A way to boost his image and in turn make him more money. He told me that himself.” You gasped looking to Yoongi for any sign that she was lying. When his expression didn’t change you shoved his hand out of your lap with force. Mia faked a shocked expression, “You mean you didn’t tell her Yoongi? You didn’t tell her about our little meet up a few weeks ago where you told me all about how much you couldn’t stand her and how you regretted this whole marriage?” The entire time this conversation had been taking place Suri has been off to the side reveling in watching it all. She knew bringing Mia back into the mix would be the final nail in the coffin that she needed to get you out of their life. Yoongi could never resist his first love.

You could feel the tears begin to form. You didn’t want to cry and show weakness in front of these people, but it seemed like your brain wasn’t going to cooperate. Abruptly standing up you tried to walk off towards the exit, but Yoongi grabbed your wrist begging you to stop, “Y/N please let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

The sound of the slap was probably heard through the entire building. Yoongi winced placing a hand on his reddened cheek. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again Yoongi.”, you whispered before trying to run off only to stop and turn to Suri instead realizing you had some unfinished business.

You wanted to get in her face, but decided to keep your distance reminding yourself that she was pregnant.

“Are you happy now Suri? Is this what you wanted? Look how many lives you’ve ruined and for what? You think you’re so smart and powerful, but in reality you’re an idiot who abuses others for your own personal benefit. You’ll get what’s coming to you one day.”

She stood there smiling at you for a few moments before finally speaking, “Y/N, I told you that I always get what I want and I meant it. I don’t care who or what I have to destroy to do it. I’ve had Yoongi wrapped around my finger for years and I wasn’t going to allow you to take that from me.”

“You’ve blackmailed him for years.”, you cut her off with the correction.

“So fucking what? I blackmailed him. I’ve blackmailed a lot of people. I’ve blackmailed Yoongi, Namjoon, my own brother, and countless other people and I don’t give a fuck. They all deserved it. That’s how I get shit done. Unlike you I won’t stop until I achieve my goal. I don’t just back down and let others walk all over me.”

She was somewhat out of breath after her rant was over with. You were about to respond when a very loud knock at the door stopped you.

“Good grief, it’s about time.”, Jin mumbled as he got up to let them in. Within seconds two detectives came walking over followed by two more police officers handcuffs already out.

One of the officers walked forward towards Suri, “Suri Cho, you are under arrest for the extortion of Yoongi Min, Namjoon Kim, and Han Cho. You are also being charged with making threats against Y/N Min and Mia Park. We don’t want to have to put you in handcuffs in your current condition so please come with us peacefully.”

“W-What? No absolutely not! I haven’t done anything wrong.”, she said backing herself against the wall.

“Miss Cho, please come with us.”, the officer said inching closer.

“I have not done anything wrong. You have no proof of any of these charges you are putting against me.”

From the corner of the room Jin cleared his throat. “Actually, here are transcripts of texts, voicemails, and emails between Suri and Namjoon as well as the paternity test confirming the identity of her unborn child. Here is the recording that we ourselves obtained of her confessing to blackmailing Yoongi for years.”, he said handing over everything that he had pulled out of his bag. “You guys also have the live feed that you just obtained with the help of Mia.”, Jin reminded them while zipping up his bag before throwing Suri a smug look.

“What?!”, she shouted looking over at the woman still sitting across from you.

“Did you have something to do with this? I asked you for help! How could you betray me like this?”, Suri shouted.

Mia walked over to one of the detectives and gave his cheek a kiss before turning her attention back to Suri with a smirk. She opened up her blouse slightly to reveal a microphone, “Maybe next time you want help breaking the law don’t contact and threaten someone who happens to be married to one of the top detectives in the country.”

Suri looked stunned.

“Miss Cho, it’s time to come with us.”, one of the officers repeated. Suri looked at all of you with tears of anger in her eyes before following after the officers. You felt a sudden sense of relief watching her walk out of your home.

“Well that was eventful. Thank you everyone for your hard work in orchestrating this. I didn’t realize I was surrounded by so many actors. Yoongi and Y/N I’ll be in contact as you will have to be summoned for questioning. Mia, weird seeing you again. Don’t cheat on your husband, he seems nice. Stay classy as always.”, Jin spoke before grabbing his belongings and also heading out the door.

Yoongi walked over to you wrapping an arm around your waist as you both looked over at Mia hoping she’d get the hint. Awkwardly she shuffled her feet while rubbing her arm.

“So I’m glad everything worked out. I was really worried she’d loose it. I had been ignoring her for a while thinking she’d eventually give up on this whole crazy idea, but when she came to me saying she was pregnant and that she was going to claim it wasn’t consensual I knew I had to reach out to you guys. I think she realized everything was starting to fall apart and she was getting desperate and even more delusional.”

“Uh yeah that’s why we decided to get the police involved. Originally we didn’t want to, but the longer this went on and the crazier she got we knew that simply just threatening her wouldn’t do anything.”, Yoongi responded.

“I just feel bad for the baby. That’s the only reason I didn’t want her to get arrested like this.”, you sighed.

Mia smiled, “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll work something out for her. Maybe house arrest or something. I’ll have my husband talk to the prosecutor.”

The air was filled with awkward silence until Mia finally started putting on her coat and heading to the door with you and Yoongi following behind to see her out.

“Maybe we could hang out some time. Go on a double date or something now that we’ve grown up and moved past what happened between us.”, she chuckled looking at Yoongi. You had a hard time reading his expression, but it looked like you could still detect a hint of admiration in his eyes as he looked at his past love. Your heart filled with sadness or maybe jealousy, you weren’t really sure.

“Listen Mia, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us with this Suri situation and I really do thank you. But having you in my life isn’t good for me any more. I’ve spent years hating you and hating myself because of what you did to me. I tried my hardest to make Y/N hate me because I didn’t think I could ever love someone again the way I loved you. I have learned to forgive you though and I’ve finally gotten to a point where I feel that it’s okay to let go of that part of my life and move on while looking forward to the future with Y/N. So we are going to politely decline the invite and while I wish you nothing but happiness for the rest of your life, respectfully please get out of my house and I hope we never have to see each other again.”

You looked on with a shocked expression waiting for her to blow up, but instead she smiled and nodded, “I understand. Glad I could help with this though. Best of luck to you both.”

After the door closed behind her you and Yoongi walked into the kitchen so he could grab a drink. He still seemed a little shaken up. While he was sipping on his water you walked up behind and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I love you.”, you mumbled into his back.

He chuckled before turning around to face you, “I love you too Y/N.” He leaned in to give you a kiss and you reciprocated the action. He winced a little before lightly rubbing his cheek, “I know I agreed to the slap to make it more believable, but I really didn’t think you were going to hit me as hard as you could like that.”

“I know I’m sorry. I got a little carried away, but I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. Plus Mia got me a little more heated than I thought she would when she was saying all that stuff.”, you giggled.

“Yeah something tells me that she wasn’t completely acting.”

You smiled, “Yeah well something tells me I wasn’t completely acting when I called her a selfish, cheating, gold digger either.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer and get a better look at his cheek, “Come here, I’ll kiss it better.”,

He smirked, “Well if that’s the case I have a few other places that are a little sore too.”

Rolling your eyes you grabbed his hand and pulled him down towards the bedroom.

After he was sat down on the bed you straddled his lap and began placing kisses along his jaw and neck, but you quickly noticed he seemed distracted. Pulling away you followed his line of sight and saw that he was staring at his dresser.

“Everything okay?”, you asked getting off of him and taking a seat on the bed instead.

He shook his head before walking over to the dresser grabbing a familiar red bottle. He popped off the top and the room immediately filled with the very familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Something that you had grown to despise. A scent that at one point would make you feel sick to your stomach. Until one day it didn’t and instead it started to smell like the comfort it was advertised as.

Yoongi stared down at the bottle in his hands before he laughed, “Mia first bought me this cologne as a gift for Christmas many years ago. I was never a huge fan of it, but she would always go on and on about how much she loved it. I continued to buy it just to make her happy. Then even after we broke up I still bought it because I didn’t want to let that part of me go. I guess I thought if I kept using this cologne I could trick myself into thinking it never happened and keep that part of my life with me forever.”

He paused for a moment before scoffing to himself, “Looking back that was pretty stupid. The cologne had nothing to do with it and I was just using it to cover up my true emotions that I didn’t want to face.”

You walked over resting your head on his shoulder and began rubbing his back, “It’s not stupid Yoongi. You did what you had to do to cope. You can keep it or you can throw it away and we’ll get you something different. It’s up to you.”

He stared into your eyes before nodding and walking into the bathroom and not long after you heard a loud clank from the glass hitting the bottom of the trash can. A few seconds later he emerged with a gummy smile looking like he felt lighter and happier than he had in a while.

He walked over and placed his hands on your hips before turning you around and falling back onto the bed pulling you on top of him,

“Now Mrs. Min, where were we?”

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #cinnamon&vanilla #min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi au #bts fic #yoongi fluff

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mango-bango-bby · 1 year

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i was wondering if you could do a platonic yan gojo with teen y/n. she grew up and became a little more shy than when she was young and gojo finds out that she's actually really popular with the boys at school. he gets angry because he doesn't want anyone to take his daughter away from him. IM SORRY IF THIS IS VAGUE I'VE NEVER ASKED FOR A REQUEST BEFORE 😭😭

♡ Popular ♡

(A/N: You all seem to be loving the platonic yandere lately as I’ve only been getting platonic requests lately!! So I hope you all enjoy this 💖💕 I definitely think he’d be sad because he’d feel like he was losing you :(

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, platonic yandere, teen!reader, reader is very popular with boys, Gojo watches reader sleep for a bit, toxic family dynamics, overprotectiveness

Summary: Gojo feels the need to protect you from other kids anyway he can (Platonic!Yandere!Gojo x Teen!Reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

No matter how old you got, Gojo never stopped seeing you as a young child. Perhaps it was because he was so protective over you. He wishes that you could stay home forever, every time he thought about you getting older all he could think of was how dangerous the world could be. He didn’t want you to get hurt, he just wanted to protect you. He doesn’t know what he would do if he allowed you to get hurt.

And in order to protect you, he had to take some drastic measures. Gojo peers into your room, seeing you snuggled up in your bed. He walks over, turning off the fairy lights in your room so that you can sleep soundly without any lights bothering you.

He leaves your room after making sure you were resting. Although he doesn’t the fairy lights would bother you to much considering you slept like a rock.

He opens up s drawer in his room, taking out a small stack of letters, all of them addressed to you and every single one being a lover letter.

He had took them out of your locker so you would never see them. He knows many people would probably call what does to dramatic and even unhealthy but he just wants to keep you safe.

Gojo just fears for you, he would love if you found someone but there were so many things that could go wrong. What if you need yo dating someone who was bad to you? What if they hurt you? What if they try to keep him apart from you?

What if you got your heartbroken? Gojo wouldn’t be able to handle if you were heartbroken, the thought of someone hurting you like that enraged him. It’s his duty as your father to keep you safe.

You grew up to be a pretty shy and quiet person. You were still fairly loud around people you were comfortable with, your father and your uncle Nanami being the people you were most comfortable with. But despite being quiet and not having many friends, you had so many admirers. And it meant you got a lot of love letters.

Gojo goes through each one, ripping them all one by one before throwing them into the fireplace. He couldn’t just let anyone take you out, he couldn’t risk you getting hurt. If you ever were to date anyone, he would have to approve. He would need to make sure they realize if they ever made you cry or even made you upset, he would make them regret it.

Gojo looks down at the fire, there are no more letters left. He was always going to put your safety first, even if it was unhealthy or drastic to do so.

You are his baby, he would do absolutely anything to keep you safe it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere jjk #platonic yandere #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo #yandere!gojo #platonic yandere gojo #yandere satoru x reader #yandere satoru

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liyawritesss · 8 months

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ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ꜰɪx ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ꜰɪx ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ

Characters: Insomniac!!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You were one of the many things Miles had neglected when he took up the mantle of Spiderman, not to mention the fiasco involving ROXXON and The Underground during what was supposed to be his winter break from school. He plans on changing that on New Year's Eve.

Warnings: Light cursing, this is game miles who is canonically seventeen so be mindful of that when reading! Honestly nothing else just a boy tryna fix his mistakes lmao.

A/N: I just finished the game and when I tell you this boy got all types of giddy, like he’s so precious (as is every other miles) and deserves the world bc WHY THEY DO HIM LIKE THAT !!! Anyway hope you enjoyyyyy!!!

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” by Tamia; "Running On My Mind" by Ali Gatie

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoir @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @daisydark @ykimobessed @famedrs-blog

Miles would think that after spending much of November & December swinging through the many buildings of Harlem, that he’d be used to the biting cold that nipped at his skin through the material of his spider-suit. Feeling the piercing bite of snow and hail against his body that sting and melt upon contact was a reminder of just how much of his winter break wasn’t actually a ‘break’, what with everything that had happened during the holidays.

Yet, when he was walking through the entrance of Central Park, the fur of his hood guarding the sides of his neck against the breeze that ruffled the branches and the fairy lights that were strung through them, he thinks that, somehow, someway, it’s gotten colder than what he can take.

He could have chalked it up to the unpredictability of New York weather, or the cold air that comes from the water that the city is surrounded by, but the thunder in his chest and the clamminess of his hands tells him otherwise. Eyes dart between the many passers by, some he knows, others he doesn’t but still greets out of kindness, but he’s got his eyes trained for someone in particular. Someone who’s face he’s not sure if he’s ready to see, nor knows if they will even spare him a glance.

Miles walks further into the park, passing the many stalls open for a variety of winter time snacks and foods for people to enjoy - hot chocolate, fresh-made cookies, soft pretzels - anything warm and filling as people wait for the real attraction to begin. As appetizing as it all looks, his own anxiety prevents him from thinking too hard on buying something to chase away the aching cold that’s beginning to rest in his bones - partially from his own anxiety, partially from the actual cold that keeps the mounds of snow solid and glistening even under the artificial lighting.

He tries to remember the words of Ganke and the encouragement of his mother. ‘She was completely into you, dude,’ said the raven haired boy as he pushed his glasses up his face, ‘as long as you’re sincere about it, I doubt she’ll just give you the cold shoulder.’

That’s the same reason she should give me the cold shoulder! Miles thought, but never said to Ganke, because in truth, they both were thinking it.

‘You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t rip your head off, mijo,’ Rio sighed, though if Miles was honest, he’d rather have heard that than any sugarcoating from the older woman, ‘whatever you decide to do, one thing is very clear; you have to be okay with whatever decision she choses as well.’

It wasn’t like Miles intended on ghosting you, but with the responsibilities of his newfound role as Harlem’s Spiderman, paired with the fiasco that was ROXXON and The Underground (which, he still dealt with the remnants of - the glowstick army held absolutely no chill, and it left a lot of mess for Miles to clean up on a day to day basis), there were a lot of things he’d unintentionally neglected.

His homework was one thing - he could speed through it and ask Ganke for help; and if he pulled the best sob story he could muster, he’d even be able to garner an extra day or two.

Salvaging a talking stage would be much more difficult. Proposing a relationship (which he had planned to do before…well, everything) was near impossible.

Fog comes from his lips as Miles sighs into the air, scanning the surrounding area that he’d walked into. Hearing a familiar song play over a distant speaker, it gives him an idea of where to begin looking for you.

His feet turn and move before his head does, and ironically, such a movement causes for his body to collide into another - and for a moment, the aching chill in his chest is replaced with a burst of warmth as the person stumbles into him while attempting to regain their balance.

“Shoot- sorry!” Miles is quick to apologize, though any further words get stuck in his throat when he realizes who exactly has bumped into him.

Who could mistake the soft locks that adorned your head, cascading down your shoulders covered in your black jacket? Or the way your pretty eyelashes dance across your cheeks? Or those gorgeous eyes of yours that captivated him from the moment he saw you…

…which, as he begins to focus, Miles notices that they’ve shifted from shocked to disbelief. And not the good kind.

“Oh,” you murmur out, giving him a once over with little interest; but whether it was trained or genuine, he’d never know, “it’s just you.”

“Ouch,” Miles breathes, brows furrowing in hurt, “that hurts.”

“Good.” You huff, eyes scanning for a way out of the most awkward situation you could’ve found yourself in on what was supposed to be a memorable night out by yourself.

You try to escape, slipping past Miles’ side, brushing against his arm. Unfortunately, you don’t get far, when you feel the faint grip of his hand on your elbow, pulling you back. “Wait, (Y/N), can we just-”

“Wait?” The word leaves you in a scoff, and Miles knows that he’d chosen the wrong word to start off this encounter.

“I’m gettin’ real tired of that word- especially as it pertains to you.” you scoff, and it’s an especially hard jab into his chest that leaves a newfound sting that’s neither cold nor warm; just dull and painful.

“Really, really fucking tired, but y’know what?” He feels you spin around in his hold to face him, though now your words make him unable to look into your eyes as his hand falls, and your face twisted in frustration comes into view.

“I just happened to be such a nice person that gives people one too many chances they don’t deserve; so go ahead Miles,” you say, “go ahead and tell me what exactly I should be waiting for? What I have been waiting for?”

You had that effect on him - being able to render him speechless with little to no effort at all. It was one of many things that attracted him to you, and he’s reminded of that as he watches your hair fill with snowflakes and your eyes light up with a fire he’s never seen before.

“You’re angry-” Miles begins.

“I’m angry-” you scoff again, ready to turn and leave for the second time at his obvious observation.

“-you’re angry, and you should be; you have every right to be angry with me!” Miles tries to maintain a calm and collected composure as he speaks, though he can already feel his own frustrations influencing the evenness of his voice.

“You ghosted me, Miles.” You say, and the boy notes the way your expression shifts from vexation to hurt as you speak the words. “Two weeks, you ghosted me, and then you show up here and all you have to say for yourself is that ‘i have every right to be angry with you’?”

The brown skin boy winces at your cold words, his hand coming to wipe down the length of his face as he tries to formulate the right words to say to you, to somehow clear his name with you, and at least get you to not hate him. Because while he couldn’t tell you the truth - at least, not yet - perhaps his sincerity would justify his actions. He hopes it does, because this is possibly his only chance of ever reconciling with the girl he’d fallen for months ago.

“I know it looks bad,” Miles sighs, tugging his lip between his teeth as he speaks, “I know it looks real bad, but you have to believe me when I say I never meant for it to happen.”

There’s a plea in his eyes that begs for you to hear him out, to spare him a moment of your time like you first did when he called your name down the halls of Visions Academy to talk to you and compliment your Spiderman charm on your bookbag. You’re silent as that memory flashes before you, and Miles takes it as an opportunity to continue.

“I’ve been dealing with a lot,” Miles begins again, “and I’ve been taking on so much, much more than I could handle, and it’s been weighing me down a lot; and I know that none of that is a justification for why I never responded back to you, but I mean it when I say that I never, never, meant for it to happen.”

There’s a soft waver in his voice that you pick up on, which causes your brows to furrow. The air around the two of you shifts to something warmer; the lights begin to blur - perhaps it’s because of the tears that begin to prickle at the corners of your eyes. The emotions build at an overwhelming pace.

Miles sees this, and slowly takes a step forwards towards you. When you don’t pull back, he begins to speak again.

“I meant what I said,” he mutters, close enough to do so, “about liking you- I-I'm crazy about you, (Y/N).”

It’s now your eyes that find it hard to meet his, constantly darting between his hazel orbs and the fabric of his red sweater underneath his coat. Arms folded across your chest in a metaphorical attempt to guard your heart, oddly reminiscent of the same stance you took when Miles initially told you that he wanted to talk to you on a romantic level.

Miles purses his lips together in a tightly, before parting them once more, “I’ve lost a lot already, with everything that’s happened.” he hums, and when your darting eyes finally settle onto his own, his hands reach for your arms to pull you in closer, hands shaky and unsure, but guided by an unrivaled sense of determination. “I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

There’s a long moment of silence that befalls the both of you, and Miles wonders if he’s said something wrong, if he’s mentioned something he shouldn’t have. He can’t read you, face obscured by the way your soft locs fall across your face. Yet, you haven’t moved from his hold, and while he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he can’t help but feel a bit of solace in that fact.

A suck of your teeth and a raise of your head makes his stomach jump as he awaits your response; your eyes hold a sense of irritation, but if Miles is correct, there was an inkling of something else in there…

“It don’t take that much to text someone, Miles,” You mutter out, voice low and strained against your own emotions.

“I know.” He answers. “I ain’t got nothin’ to help my case there.”

The breathless chuckles that leaves his lips in an attempt to ease the air garners him the smallest of smiles to tug at your lips, and for once in this entire engagement, his stomach loosens from the tight pull his anxiety had on it.

“And I know that it hurt you…” he says these words carefully, still well aware of the tight rope that he walks in regards to making amends, “but if you’re willing to give me another chance…I can promise to try.”

Your jaw clenches in thought, silence befalling the two of you once again. There was a part of you that was resistant to his insistence, a part that had suffered and wanted to refuse his advances in fear of being subjected to the possibility of it happening again. Yet, you made the choice to look up at him once again, and while you hate to admit it, the way the fairy lights dance in his eyes and shine against his skin is definitely clouding your judgment in the moment.

You suck your teeth again, an unamused expression donning your face as your arms drop from your chest and instead find their way onto his. The other hand that rested on your arm now travels to your waist - careful in his movements, aware that while you’ve dropped your guard and entered his space, Miles still has a lot of making up to do.

“I’ll think about it,” You hum, and it garners you a smile from him; that was practically code for I’ll unblock you, but you’re still in the doghouse.

“I’ll think about it while you buy me hot chocolate.”

“Yup, there it is.” Miles teases, lips spreading into a hearty chuckle.

“Uhuh, get to movin’, big steppa.” A gentle push on his chest has Miles turning in the direction of the nearest hot chocolate stand. You follow in tow as the clunking of his Timberlands echo against the ground, your own shoes creating a softer sound as they follow in tow.

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angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

prophetic

abby anderson x scar!reader

cw : mentions of canon violence, injuries, canon doesn’t exist here, slow burn as fuck, literal bare minimum romance but like ,, you can feel it.

wc : 5.5k

a/n : i did NOT proof read this ,, i finished it at 4am and it was 11 pages. nooooo way. hope you enjoy !

The rain pelted you as you followed closely behind the boy, shielding him from sight as you pushed through the dense forest, hearing sharp whistles coming closer and closer no matter how fast you’d tried to run. It felt endless, the harsh scratches of the branches on your skin as you held the machete close- praying you didn’t end up having to use it.

“Demons!” Lev whisper-shouted, altering you to the growling that seemed to be encroaching faster than the seraphites could- their hellacious moans of plea ingrained into your memory. He tried to ready his bow, pulling an arrow from his quiver before your hand rose to stop him- hand securing around his wrist.

You shook your head, pointing ahead to the glow of fire in the distance, the area was populated solely by seraphites now- seeing as the treaty fell through. That meant even the smallest noise that could indicate human life would be used as a call sign, sending the hunters out. With a group coming in from behind you and no way to go ahead, you nodded towards the right path, that being the only one seemingly uninhabited. You loosened your grip, urging him to take hold of Yara and run.

Yara nodded swiftly, understanding your plan wordlessly. It was just like that between you two, spending so much time together growing up- despite the age difference, you could read each other like a book. “May she protect you.” She spoke in a hushed whisper, coming to take hold of Lev and practically drag him away from you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer, choosing to trust you knew a way out of this.

“May she guide you.” You whispered, not loud enough for her to hear as you bolted towards the left, hearing a sharp whistle follow your movements. The goal was to make as much noise as possible, draw them as far as you could from Yara and Lev so they could find a safe place to hide out. They were the ones the elders wanted most of all, your collaboration being shaken off as rebellious youth. If you got caught, your punishment wouldn’t be half as bad as the torture that awaited them back home.

The rain picked up, soaking through your clothes as you flew blindly through the trees. You could feel the branches snagging your clothes, causing rips in the loose material before you came to a sudden stop- the whistling seemingly coming to an end as you panted. It was quiet, not even the growling of demons permeating the tense overhang of silence, causing your stomach to lurch. They knew you were here, so where were they?

You got your answer as you felt two arms wrap around your waist, pinning your arms to your side, causing your machete to fall to the damp forest floor. “We found an apostate!” A gruff voice shouted, making your ears ring, their fingers digging into your skin hard enough that you began to feel blood trickle. “No more running.”

You stifled a scream, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. You knew this was bad, worse than bad actually, feeling another set of hands come to grip your left arm- allowing the first man to settle into the flesh of your right. You’d begun to make peace with the idea of dying tonight, your suffering surely ending in a much swifter way than they’d allow Lev or Yara. It was worth it, in your eyes, to die for such a cause. “The prophet abhors blind followers of evil.” You choked out, trying to dig your heels into the ground as they drug you back towards the fire.

The man on the right snorted, almost choking on his spit as he laughed. “Don’t tell me what the prophet abhors, apostate.” He snarled, squeezing tighter as he pushed through a thick brush. “You hold no right to her words.” As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. Your ties to the prophet being cut when you chose to leave, to search for freedom elsewhere.

They pushed a thick branch out of the way, the harsh orange firelight blinding you as they came to a stop before a woman you recognized as Helah. If there was one person you’d always be able to find in a crowd, it was her. From her spindly arms to the mass of dark hair pinned to her scalp, she’d always sent a chill down your spine, now more so- her focus being on a girl struggling to keep her feet on a bucket just a tad too short, a rope tightening around her thick neck.

Her impossibly dark eyes settled on you as she turned, letting her knife fall to her side as she looked upon you in contempt. “You.” She spoke, tilting her head as she came closer. With every step she took towards you, you could slowly begin to make out the splatter of blood that burned her unnaturally pale face- making you shift uncomfortably in the men's arms, from what you could gather- these bodies were her doing. “Your mother begged us to find you, to save you from the demons.”

You winced at the mention of your mother, imagining her falling to her knees before the elders- begging them to spare the only daughter she’d ever come to bring full term. You tried to shake off the thoughts, knowing this was her game, manipulation being her weapon of choice. You couldn’t let her get the high ground, not knowing what could possibly come of her supposed ‘mercy’ as allotted by the elders. “The only demons I need saving from are you people.”

One of the men kicked your legs out from under you, making you fall forward as they finally relinquished their grip on your arms. The feeling of the moist earth under you was an almost welcome sensation if it hadn’t been for the words you’d heard slipping from the lips of the woman standing above you now.

“Clip her wings.”

A horrified scream was ripped from your throat as you tried to scramble off of the ground, motions halted by hands pushing you back down- cheek pressed roughly into the hard ground. You could feel the rocks digging into your skin as you tried to wriggle away, harsh sobs falling from your lips. As a last resort, you cast your eyes upward, coming to connect with the dangling girl.

She looked on in gargled disbelief, face turning an unhealthy shade of red as she held your gaze. What did they mean by clipping your wings? It wasn’t something she’d ever heard of in passing during the time of the treaty. Her stomach lurched, as she watched you closely, almost forgetting the fact that she was also fighting for her life. Though, she couldn’t manage to tear her gaze away, the horror in your eyes sending shivers down her spine. In those moments, it felt like time moved in slow motion, watching as the repulsive-looking man brought down a massive hammer to the joint of your elbow. The screams embedded themselves into her chest, every shrill, ear-piercing noise committed to memory.

You couldn’t breathe, the white-hot pain filling your entire body as you felt him hand off the hammer. The shock had sent your body into a primal shudder, twitching uncontrollably as you tried to conceptualize the pain- you had to get up. You had to get up now. Your working arm was held down in place, dirty nails cutting into your skin, leaving you to try to use your broken one as leverage. “Oh, god.” You whimpered, the pain shooting into your shoulder with every movement.

Suddenly, the man’s hand on your wrist went limp- the large hammer coming to land with an obnoxious thump on the ground by your head. The newfound freedom giving you the chance to pull yourself away from the other man, hand securing on the fallen hammer. As you turned yourself around, you saw the man lying with an arrow poking out from the back of his head, though your curiosity was short-lived- attention being caught by the short, struggling breaths coming from behind you.

The girl secured her legs around Helah’s throat, holding her in place as she struggled with catching small puffs of air. You stared in amazement for a moment before sense kicked back in, pushing yourself off of the ground. The pain took a backseat to the problem at hand, legs trembling under your weight as you used your remaining strength to swing the hammer to wedge into the woman's skull- seeing her instantly fall limp, the girl letting her fall to the ground as she relaxed her legs.

“Help me.” The blonde wheezed, eyes beginning to roll back into her skull, face turning a sickly shade of blue. The bucket was long gone, lost in the struggle between her and Helah, causing her to swing haphazardly on the tensed rope. The world was beginning to dot in black, pupils tiny from the lack of oxygen. She didn’t even have to grab the woman, it was a choice she made in the moment- seeing the way she delighted in the suffering of a seemingly innocent girl. Maybe it was her conscious dictating her actions, or maybe, it was a nagging voice in the back of her head- telling her that if it was her, she’d like to think you do the same thing. How she could know that was beyond her, it didn’t make sense logically, but it was enough for her.

You nodded quickly, hissing as you grabbed your broken arm in an attempt to not strain it anymore. You eased yourself onto the ground, feeling around under Helah’s body for the knife she’d been planning to use on the girl. “I’m sorry.” You huffed, stifled breaths breaking your words as you finally found the blade. You got back to your feet, wasting no time in your sawing of the thick rope. It came apart with a harsh snapping noise, sending the girl onto the ground hard.

Yara bounded out of the darkness, your lost machete in hand as she looked at the two of you frantically. “Demons, we have to go!” She rushed, motioning to the path leading left, Lev following her lead as she pushed forward. Her eyes tried to avoid your limp arm, the discoloration seeping from your joint down to your fingertips, guilt overtaking her.

You nodded, urging them to go, as you looked at the girl. “Are you okay?” It was simple, something so seemingly meaningless, but enough to convey the appreciation you felt towards her. She was the only reason you weren’t dead, feeling absolutely sure that Helah would’ve ended you before your friends could save you.

She nodded, pulling the rope from around her neck before dipping down to jerk the hammer from the woman's skull. “Can you still run?” She asked, hearing the noises of infected closing in. The last thing she wanted was to let you die, seeing as she now felt just as indebted to you as you did her.

“Yeah, yes. I think.” You grunted, pulling your lifeless arm to your chest as you gave her a curt nod. “We have to go, come on.”

The blonde eyed you for a second before giving in, giving you a small nudge forward as she took off in the direction of what she assumed were your friends. She could hear your slowed footfalls behind her, making her cut her pace to let you pass her. If anything was to catch up, she could handle them- but in your state, you’d be too easily overtaken.

It didn’t take long for the two kids to come into view, their bodies moving nimbly through the trees as they seemed to have a rendezvous spot in mind. You didn’t even consider asking about their plan, focusing solely on just making it there- the mind-numbing pain being the only source of drive you had left. You stumbled, feet getting caught up on a root that blended into the dark earth, acting just fast enough to catch yourself on a nearby tree, your arm falling limply to your side.

“I can carry you if you need.”

You shook off her offer, panting lightly before pushing forward- not even able to grab at your arm anymore. Every breath rattled your body, sending indescribable jolts of pain reverberating through your nervous system, if you’d not known any better you’d have assumed this was what dying felt like- but you’d always been classified as the dramatic type, so you tried not to dwell on it. “I can make it.” You attested, not fully believing your own words, but pushing forward nonetheless.

The forest felt endless, from blindly following Yara’s lead to dodging infected spewing from unknown sources- it was like it was trapping you here. In a constant state of suspended terror, you dragged behind, feeling the burly girl's unrelenting aura looming over you with every step. She was different from the other wolves, you’d gathered in your short time with her, her attitude about your situation border lining empathy. It was something you’d never expect from her kind, having spent most of your life running from their old-world weapons.

“Here!” Lev called behind to you, seeing your figure slowly encroaching on the two of them, he wanted to run back to help but restrained himself- seeing the shadows morph into fungus-ridden figures trailing after the pair of you, he nocked his bow in preparation.

The girl ushered you forward, turning her back to you whilst you slid through behind Yara, allowing Lev to enter before she followed behind him- making sure no infected managed to come in behind the four of you. Her hair was sticking wildly to her face, eyes blown with adrenaline as she pushed herself through the hole. “Where from here?” She gasped, catching her breath as she peered around at the three of you standing at a fenced-in gap.

Yara was inspecting your arm silently, leaving Lev to speak on her behalf. “The fence, it’s new, we have to go through there.” He explained, his bow remaining tense in his hands as he watched the girl carefully.

She nodded, coming to kneel next to the fence. Her hands latched in the lattice holes, grunting slightly as she pulled the wire away from the pole. She managed to get it loose, holding it open for the three of you to pass.

“Go ahead.” You halted Yara, pushing her gently towards the exit, not giving her the option to object. Her eyes lingered on your arm before giving a hesitant step towards the hole in the fence, giving it a once over before getting down on her hands and knees to crawl through. “Lev, you next.” He bore no hesitation, following Yara’s motions.

You bent down next to the girl, ducking your head through the hole and using your feet to push yourself out to the other side, hearing her mutter a soft ‘watch your arm’ unconsciously. You heeded her words and pulled the limb to your chest, holding it firmly in place as you found your footing again, only to be grabbed by a force strong enough to rival that of what you imagined a god could. A choked scream passed through your lips, cut off by the neckline of your shirt coming to press uncomfortably around your throat- whoever had you was using the fabric of your shirt to dangle you just above the ground.

“Goddamn it, leave her alone!” Her gruff voice rang out, finally wriggling herself free from the fencing, coming to bring the hammer down on the person's knuckles. It was enough for them to release you, letting you fall to your feet, their attention now solely on the wolf. Something she didn’t mind, her abilities lying mainly in her uncanny strength, as you’d come to notice. She took in the massive woman, eyes zeroing on the straps of an oh-so-familiar bag that hung on her back- practically straining against her massive shoulders. It lit a fire in her, her fingers tensing over the handle of the hammer- tilting her head slightly. “Is that my fucking backpack?” She shouted, quickly dodging out of the way of her massive pick, and taking a few stunned steps back.

You stumbled away from the pair, whipping around just as Lev let an arrow fly- landing in the woman's shoulder- sharpened stone burying itself in the muscle, giving the wolf a moment to strike. It was like watching feral dogs fight, strike- yelp- strike. They both had the strength to overpower normal people, but when paired together it was one immovable force meeting another.

The girl locked her hand in the strap of the backpack, jerking the woman back just as she struck- hammer embedded in her skull. It was like destroying a sand castle, her body crumbling right before you in a mass of blood and muscle, it took one hit. “Fucking hell.” She hissed, kneeling down beside the woman’s body to strip her of the backpack that was rightfully hers- not hesitating to retrieve the hammer either. “We almost there?”

Yara nodded quickly, pointing towards a building marked with a large seraphite symbol. “I-it should be right through there,” She began, glancing around nervously, anticipating the arrival of more soldiers- or worse wolves. “We have to hurry, she might not make it much further.”

The words sent a pang of guilt into your stomach, causing you to shake your head. “I’m fine, I promise. I can make it.” You assured, glancing over to the bloodied girl, not letting your eyes linger for too long. You didn’t want to be seen as a burden, even now with a lame arm, you could still keep going- you had to. It wasn’t for lack of trying, that your convincing words fell through, no it was the sight of your now blood-red fingers peeking out from your shirt sleeve that caused the three of them to share a look of concern. “Let’s go, now, before they catch up.”

The wolf stayed close behind you, eyes trained on the crimson of your fingers as she racked her brain for a possible explanation. Her father being a doctor meant nothing in the long run, leaving her with a basic knowledge of injuries, not nearly enough to account for what had happened to you. “How’s the arm?” She hummed, not wanting to bother you too much in case her presence began to cause you to recoil from her, seeing how differently you two were.

“Bearable.” You managed, doing anything to not think about the numbness that had begun to creep into your arm. You knew it wasn’t a good sign, seeing as normally when you got injuries- even bad ones, they continued to hurt. This was a new sensation, one that sent a dread-filled ball into your stomach. “Thank you, by the way.” You added, your dull eyes coming up to meet hers as you pushed a bramble push to the side so you could pass.

She chuckled, the noise lightening the mood for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “Don’t mention it.” She spoke quietly, coming to a stop in front of the warehouse ledge, lifting herself effortlessly onto the platform before turning to you- offering her hand. “Can I ask a question?” It was something she hadn’t been able to shake, the idea of ‘wing clipping’ being something regularly used in scar life, she wanted to gain perspective- though after she asked, she realized how bad a time this might be.

You took her help gratefully, scaling the wall with minimal effort. Once your feet were back on solid ground you nodded at her, using your good arm to pull your lame one close to your body, trying not to hit it on anything. It had gotten easier to deal with the arm, though you’d begun feeling an uncomfortable chill creeping up your spine as the minutes dragged on. “Ask away.” You prompted, watching as she took hold of the latch- pulling the heavy metal off of the ground so the three of you could slide in under the door.

“Do the scars clip wings.. a lot?” She spoke once you’d all made it under, letting the heavy door fall closed with a ridiculously loud bang. Her hands came to her pants legs, wiping off the rust that had detached from the old metal, leaving red stains on the taut cargo.

The words made you shudder unconsciously, the flashes of burning hot pain plaguing your memory. For something so recent, you could’ve sworn this ache was ancient, rattling even the strongest pieces of your will. “Seraphites, and,” You paused, shaking off the unwelcome recollections. “It’s not the go-to method of punishment if that’s what you’re asking.” It was mainly true, wing clipping being reserved only for the apostates they had no will to kill. Their goal was to maim them enough that they wouldn’t consider disobeying again, and usually, it worked. “It’s reserved for the ones the council decides to spare.”

Her brows knitted together, “Spare?” From her viewpoint, this seemed worse than death, the bones surely crushed into powder by the sheer amount of times she man brought the hammer down onto the joint. The memory made her want to crawl out of her skin, hammer suddenly feeling much heavier, the screams being the worst thing she’d ever heard in her life. “This is what they consider sparing people?” She wanted to say more but stopped herself, not understanding why she cared so much about the goings of scars.

“I’m just glad to be alive.”

She nodded, finding that a good enough reason to drop the conversation there. “Grab any supplies you find, okay?”

Lev almost choked on his own spit, looking at Yara and then at you. “We can’t touch this stuff, it’s old world.” His words hung in the air between you as you gave him a half-shrug. His mouth snapped shut before he turned on his heel, using the tip of an arrow to move stuff on the tables around- your reply wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t dare to fight against it.

You came to stand with Yara, her hands trembling as she thumbed through different stacks of old material. “You okay?” You hummed, swallowing thickly as her glossy eyes met your own, indicating she was nowhere near it. She was such a strong girl, pushing aside her emotions for the sake of others. She was so good at it, it had become her fatal flaw.

She nodded curtly, dropping her eyes back down to the sheets of fabric, stuffing them in her pocket haphazardly. “I’m sorry, sister.” She whispered, doing everything in her power to keep her voice steady. “I went back for your machete, I... I thought I’d be able to get to you in time.” She turned on her heel, coming to face you fully, tears brimming her dark eyes. “I was wrong.”

The sight made your stomach twist into knots, free arm coming to wrap around her shoulders gently- pulling her small frame into your chest. She’d been the sister you needed through childhood, becoming the closest thing to blood you had besides your mother. It crushed you to hear her blame herself for something that should've never had to happen, the blame falling on the group you’d once thought was home. “She sees your love, she doesn’t blame you. Neither do i.” You hummed, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid letting the brimming tears escape, ignoring the faint feeling that had crept into your head as you held her.

A cough drew you from the embrace, causing you to turn in response- the movement almost knocking you off of your feet. “We found a way forward, might even be a couple places to rest.” The wolf spoke, nodding towards a door Lev stood by, seeing it barely hanging onto its hinges as rain droplets slowly raced down the corrupted frame. “Are you feeling okay?” She spoke suddenly, not letting you fit a word in before stepping forward, the back of her hand coming in contact with your forehead.

You almost took a step backward, your heart jumping into your throat at the heat of her touch. It felt like she was on fire, her skin burning into yours as she spared Yara a nervous glance. “What’s wrong, why are you so hot?” You asked, tearing away from her touch with a slight tremble in your legs. You brought your own hand up, pressing it to your forehead in the same manner she had- pulling away quickly, finding your hand coated in sweat.

“You have a fever, we need to get you out of here, now.” She pushed forward, not letting you object as she scooped you into her arms- careful to not crush your arm further. This was something she knew wasn’t a good sign, meaning you’d contracted an infection or worse.

The sudden change left your head spinning, the body heat radiating off of the girl making you uncomfortably hot as you writhed in her arms, fighting in a sense. Not against her but against her unbearable heat, though in your eyes currently- they were one and the same. “You’re so hot, wolf, I can't breathe.” You knew she wasn’t doing this out of malice, quite the opposite actually, but sense evaded you in your current state.

She pushed through the doorway, eyes locking on a trailer on the far side of the yard- her feet picking up pace as she held you firmly in place. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She managed, on any other day she would’ve made some tasteless joke about her being hot, but she settled on this not being the time for it. She could feel your body shuddering, still trying to fight off her warmth as she practically broke down the trailer door- kicking it open so hard it left a door knob-sized hole in the panel wall.

Lev followed closely behind her, closing the door behind Yara to avoid drawing any more attention. “Is she gonna be okay?” He asked gingerly, putting his bow to rest on the dusty countertop. He knew the wolf didn’t seem like a healer, so she probably wouldn't know, but it was worth it to at least ask.

The girl gently let your body press into the moth-eaten couch, her arms sliding from beneath you with ease. “Can I?’ She asked, nodding to your arm, seeing the purple tint your fingers had taken on in the time it had taken the four of you to get out of the woods. A nod was all she needed, her hands coming to your arm.

One hand held your wrist, and the other pushed the linen of your tattered long-sleeved shirt up past your elbow. As the extent of your injury came to the light, nobody moved. The air felt stale, not even a ragged breath cutting through the anxious silence. You glanced down, the sight drawing a sharp gasp from your mouth, dark red pigmented your skin down to your fingers, which now took on a darker more purple hue. It looked like something a child would draw, devoid of all sense of tone, hung high in some disease-ridden home.

“I can set it, That might help.” The wolf spoke, eyes betraying her thoughts as she glanced up at you, trying to make it less scary. If maybe by some miracle this could work, she’d try just about anything. “Let me do that, okay?”

You didn’t even think to object, giving her a tiny nod. “Yara, the cloth.” You spoke, looking between her at the girl. “That would help, right?” You checked, having the most inept idea of healing from your time spent sneaking around the healer's hut for herbs.

Yara dug into her pockets, drawing out a handful of thick strips of cloth- immediately placing them into the hands of the girl. “I can go find more if we need more.” She rushed, watching closely as the girl turned them in her hands.

She nodded, “This is perfect, thank you.” She gave the younger girl a tight-lipped smile, kneeling beside the couch. She brought the chair leg to rest on her knee, popping the fabric on top of it, as she placed her hands at the wrist and just above the elbow. This was going to hurt, a lot, and the only way she could think to do it- was by distracting you. “What’s your name?”

“It’s-,” You began, only to be met with a harsh crack and a searing pain filling your arm. From your fingers to your shoulder, it felt like someone had sent you through initiation again, fire licking at your skin. “-My god!” You hissed in response, a choked sob escaping your trembling lips.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” She shushed gently, letting your arm come to rest on the cushions as she picked the chair leg up- fitting it to your arm. “You’re gonna be okay-?” She drew out, waiting for you to finish your previous sentence

“(y/n), my n-name is (y/n).” You forced through the pain, breathing labored as you felt her secure the wood to your arm- straightening it permanently to let it heal. You had no idea if it would work, but you chose to trust her, not considering the fact that she might have just been lying for the sake of your comfort. “What’s yours?”

She smiled slightly, finishing up her work, letting her forearms come to rest on her knee. “Abby.” It was like some switch inside of her had flipped, all thoughts of her original reason for coming out here being lost in her subconscious, heart jumping with anxious beats at the idea of leaving the three of you here- but she had to go, much to her dismay.

“Abby.” You repeated sluggishly, getting a feel for it on your lips, earning a small chuckle from her. “Thank you, Abby.”

Abby stood, glancing between the two kids standing off to the side- looking visibly relieved. “I have to go, try not to make any noise. '' She warned, knowing the wolves had not cleared this area of infected yet. If they needed to be scared of anyone, it was the flesh-hungry infected that ran these woods. The ache to stay threatened her chest, forcing her to move faster. She pushed out of the door, halting on the wet steps as she turned on her heel- coming face to face with the boy she now knew as Lev.

“Listen, kid. Whatever shape she’s in, you need to be out of here by tomorrow.” Her words came out rushed, her hand digging into the door frame as she loomed over him, watching as his lips set into a thin line. She didn’t know what else to say, already conflicted enough, so she just took a step back. “Don’t let her die because you wanted to be a hero.”

╰╮later

The night passed in a blur of delusion-filled hallucinations, the pain creeping back into you when you least expected it. So when the light of morning poured through the tattered curtains, you thanked the prophet for the ability to even see another day- having thought many times you’d just die with the next flutter of your eyelids.

“Here, drink this.” Yara hummed, holding a small water bottle up beside your head- waiting for you to part your now chapped lips. Her hands shook slightly, letting the liquid drip out of the bottle slowly to avoid making you choke. She’d not slept, spending the night hovering over you just to be sure you were still breathing, making her even more cautious in her pouring.

You swallowed the water gratefully, feeling the ache in your throat dull slightly with the moisture. “Thank you, but really, try to rest before we have to leave.” You pleaded, eyes glossed over with the usual maternal worry you reserved for the siblings. “It’s gonna-,”

Your words were cut off by the door swinging open, Yara immediately reaching for Lev’s bow on the counter her hands moved faster than you could follow, nocking an arrow and letting it fly in just seconds before a familiar voice called out from behind the door. ‘It’s me!” They began, slowly coming around the corner, face flushed.

Yara let out a stressed breath, watching Lev rise from his sleep with a confused expression on his face. “On the prophet, have you heard of knocking?” She huffed, letting the bow fall back onto the counter as she crossed the room to collect Lev’s (definitely broken) arrow.

“Abby?” You spoke quietly, voice hoarse as you gazed up at her approaching form, her name still feeling foreign on your lips. “What are you doing here?”

The blonde shook her head shortly, kneeling down by the edge of the couch- leveling with you, letting her gaze rake over the sickly flush of your face. “You deserve a shot, (y/n).” She spoke, bringing a hand to rest on your uninjured one tenderly. “I’m here to give you one.”

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dw-writes · 2 months

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Angelic Rip Off - Chapter One

Summary: It didn't take much for you to be kicked from Heaven. Ask the wrong question, see the wrong person, bad place, bad time, etc. Heaven as a paradise sounded like a scam when you factored in how easy it was to fall. What a rip. Word Count: 9,649 Chapter Summary: You're booted from Heaven because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Genre: Fantasy, Romance. Slow Burn. Eventual Lucifer x Reader Warnings: Angst, swearing, mild body horror, screaming, violence. A/N: I'm actually really excited for this story!! And I'm really hoping that you guys are going to enjoy it :) Tag list at the end. Using a read more because it's very long and i dont like cluttering the tag :) Enjoy.

Chapter One

There weren’t rules about being out so late in Heaven, but it wasn’t common.

You always were a weird one.

You brushed off the thought as you walked, wings tucked close, following the winding road through the center of Humility Square. It wasn’t silent, far from it – the hum of the elevator in the distance, the quiet chatter in the Prayer Palace, the buzz of electricity, and the few people that always walked during the night.

It almost didn’t surprise you to see Adam and Lute out walking, either. They often did – claimed that it was to ‘patrol’ and ‘keep Heaven safe’ but you had a feeling it was a weird kind of date for the two of them. You almost waved but stopped yourself at the sight of Sera walking with them. The three of them were making a beeline for the Angelic Council building behind you, whispering amongst themselves.

You waved for Sera’s attention and flew to close the distance.

“Shit,” Adam muttered. Lute stiffened.

Man cannot school his features for anything.

“Is there an emergency council meeting?” you asked Sera as you approached, pulling your phone from your pocket to check. The only thing you saw was a notification from FaithBook, and no text about a council meeting.

Sera waved for the two Exorcists to go ahead, and they left with uncharacteristically little preamble. She waited until they were inside, and you watched them push the doors open. Inside the building were two figures, one drastically taller than the other, who turned when the doors opened. You tilted your head, hoping to see more details, but the doors closed before you could.

“What are you doing out so late?” Sera asked.

You frowned. “I normally take a walk this late,” you replied, crossing your arms, “It’s nice. It’s relaxing.” You glanced at the Council building again. “Should I ring the Council? Do you need anything?”

“I need you to go home,” she firmly stated.

You paused, laughed a little, frowned. “I’m a senior member of the Council, same as you. If there’s a meeting, I should be informed of it,” you said. You squeezed your arms, watching her as her eyes darted for the doors. “Not Adam, certainly not Lute. You know as well as I do that the leniency he’s gotten with his ragtag para-military group is getting dangerous, and allowing him—”

“It doesn’t involve you,” Sera cut in, holding up a hand.

You reeled back.

She flew past you, positioning herself between you and the door. “You need to leave.” You watched her turn and head inside, and she was quick to shut the doors behind her. But you could have sworn you saw two familiar faces inside.

Impossible. They can’t ever come home.

Your nightmares started that night and continued for weeks: of the brightest star in creation falling from the Heavens and taking a third of the sky with him. Lucifer’s fall was a real nightmare for you; a friend from the start, someone you made the universe with, who told you all his dreams and things he could change; who told you about Lilith, and Eve, and the apple, and what he did in a flurry of fearful tears when talks of “expulsion” first started.

Lucifer, whose brothers dragged him down silent streets in the middle of the night for an emergency council, who you followed with promises that you would help him, that you’d make sure nothing happened to him.

Lucifer, who fell from Heaven and past Earth with the woman he loved wrapped in his arms. You remembered the smell of his flesh burning as he kept her safe through the fall. You remembered your stars clinging to the edges of his feathers as he dragged them out of sight.

The whole ordeal plagued you, and it had taken centuries for the nightmares to stop.

And then, as if out of nowhere…

You walked the streets while attempting to rid the remnants of your most recent nightmare from your mind. You passed peaceful homes, the Prayer Palace, and the empty Angelic Council building, trying to rid Lucifer’s pained face from your eyes.

You turned a corner and almost ran right into Sera. You swallowed a swear, apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you—”

“Why are you out?” she demanded, her voice sharp, uneven, the eyes of her hair cracking open, “Again.”

“Just out for a walk,” you slowly replied. Familiar faces walked around the corner behind her, heading back the way you’d come from, towards the Heavenly Elevator – Adam, Lilith, Lute, then Sera following behind them.

You turned around, eyes wide, staring at the familiar tall blonde.

“Lilith?” you weakly asked. She turned, her eyes flat and blank as she met your gaze. She had to have known who you were, right? You stepped closer, feeling the panic rising in your throat like sticky acid. “Lilith, what’re you—”

“Go home,” demanded Sera.

The first woman still watched you, her eyes darting over your face, familiarity slowly rising from the depths of her irises. She closed the gap between you both, grasping your hands tight between hers, pleading, “Take care of them.”

Lute’s hand pressed flat against your chest and shoved you back. Hands were torn from yours, and the four of them were gone. You stared down the road where they disappeared, your lungs seeming to shrink in your chest until your vision tunneled at the edges.

Abandoned.

You couldn’t remember how you got home, or when you fell asleep, but you were shaken away by the Exorcists breaking down your door. They dragged you out of bed with little warning and flew down the busy morning streets with you locked between their arms until they kicked down the doors of the Angelic Council and threw you inside.

You remembered being on the other end of your situation – when you stormed in after Lucifer, watching them sling accusations that had no merit – and you trembled when the same words were shouted down at you from the Council.

“Traitor!”

“Snake!”

“Liar!”

You rose to your feet, holding your hands out in front of you as your wings lifted you to be level with the Council. “Wait, what’s going on!” you demanded, “What are my charges?! Why am I here!?” You tilted your head back to look up at Sera in the top bench. “Sera?”

She folded her hands in front of her, declaring your name for the Council to hear. “You’ve been accused of treason, and of conspiring with Hell to lead a rebellion against Heaven,” she stated, “How do you plea?”

You dropped your arms, watching her, your chest tightening all over again as you whimpered out a faint, “What?” Your eyes darted across the familiar faces of the Council as your face tingled with adrenaline.

“How do you plea?” Sera demanded again.

You tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry. Your ears rang. You couldn’t think. You shook your head. “Not guilty, you know that!”

“Do we?” hissed a voice on your left, one pushed through an Exorcist mask you couldn’t recognize.

“There’s evidence,” came another voice on your right, from another mask and another nameless Exorcist.

You’ve failed.

You couldn’t argue as the evidence was read. Weeks and weeks of incidents, of things you know you never did, would never do, could never do, and yet there was evidence being read and being played and being presented that made you out to be the next Great Rebel of Heaven.

Weeks of them.

What a coincidence.

You looked up at Sera, your eyes pricking with tears. “Is this because of who I saw?” you whispered.

She didn’t move.

“Are you framing me?” you rasped.

“Hard to frame you when there’s so much evidence, babe,” Adam commented from his box seat.

Sera rose from her seat. “Is this all you have to say in your defense?” she asked, “That this is a ‘frame job’?”

You swallowed, then nodded.

She waved her hand. “Then this court finds you guilty and moves for immediate exile.”

It was a blur – the streets were cleared as you were dragged from the Council building, limp in the arms of the Exorcists, trembling harder as the gate grew closer and closer.

“Sera, you know this isn’t true!” you begged as you were led to the expulsion point of Heaven. You glanced down through the hole, your throat closing at the distance between you and Earth and the pinpoint that would be Hell further past it. You turned back to Sera, your eyes burning. “Sera, please—”

“Shut your mouth, traitor!” the familiar voice of Lute cut through Sera’s loud silence. Her hand shoved hard against your chest and sent you over the edge. Gravity sucked you through and sent you careening through existence.

It hurt. The heat against your back, the yanking of your feathers from your wings, the cutting of the wind and the dirt and ice as you passed Earth and entered the atmosphere of Hell.

The last thing you saw before you hit the ground were the few stars that you dragged from the skies with you.

Stolas thought the light that flashed in the sky was just those pesky Exorcists leaving Hell again, after their most recent attack on the Sinners of the Pride ring. It was enough for him to consider moving – it would be safer for Octavia, at the very least.

However, his feathers ruffled as the light grew closer and closer to his manor, and he threw his hand in front of his face as it became too blinding to look at.

The ground rumbled, and he lost his footing. He was quick to stand, running from the room and peaking in on an equally startled Octavia to ensure she was alright. A screeching from the upper floors informed him that Stella was, at the very least, unharmed. The Prince slowed his travels through the manor until he opened the front door.

His yard was destroyed – it would take months of work to get it back to its pristine landscaping – by the massive crater that sat in the middle. It smoldered, and something sharp assaulted his senses as he crept closer.

Wings peeked out at odd angles from the crater.

“Octavia?” he called as he quickly descended upon the crater, “Call for a medic!”

Word spread, and quickly, once a private medical team had been dispatched to the manor. Asmodeus was the first to arrive – a concerned friend, of course, but one who couldn’t stop talking when he had rung Satan up. He called Bee, who called Mammon, who bribed Bel to show up at the gates of the manor.

“Why’re we here?” asked the sin of Sloth, who yawned and stretched, smacking his lips together, “Woke me from a nap.”

“Like you have anything better to do,” Mammon argued, leaning over the smaller man. He leaned back after a moment. “Actually, you have any outstanding bills? Anything from your patients that I can kindly take care of?” he asked with a slimy grin.

Bel eyed him for a moment, then pulled out his phone. “Yeah. We’ve got a list. You pay ‘em, I can help more people, and you can do as you please to get your money back,” he said with a sigh, “If you want.”

“Why’re we here, Ozzie?” Bee asked.

Asmodeus waved to a van parked inside of the manor gate. “Heard from F—” He coughed, thumping his chest with his fist, “Heard from a friend of a friend that there was private doctor called.”

Bee arched an eyebrow. “Friend of a friend?” she questioned.

“Yes,” Ozzie hissed back. He turned, waving at an approaching figure, “Anyone call Levi?”

“She can’t make it, apparently,” replied the last sin, Satan, causing Mammon to jump. He grinned a familiar pointed grin, tilting his head. “What? Scare you?”

“Fuckin’ hate that you look like Lucifer, you know,” swore Greed, scooting away from him, “You might not be blonde, but doesn’t make a fuckin’ difference from the side.”

“Speaking of, is he comin’?’ asked Satan.

“Sent me to voice mail,” replied Bee, “Twice.”

“So, why we here?” asked Bel, rubbing his neck, “Seriously.”

“Well—”

“Why,” cut in the high screech of the Lady Stella, “Are there people LINGERING at my GATE?”

The door of the manor opened not one moment later, a frazzled Prince looking out, and making eye contact with the Sins at his stoop. He stepped out, rubbing his hands together, frowning. “Not that I don’t mind visitors,” he said, “But you’ve impeccable timing with something fragile.”

“Ozzie called us here,” Bee tattled, pointing to the mammoth man closest to the gates, “Said a friend told him that a doctor was called?”

Stolas stopped short of the gate, closing his eyes to an ache that grew behind them. He’d hung up on Blitzø when the doctors had arrived, and he’d said as much. He wasn’t surprised that the news somehow made its way back to Ozzie. Most probably through a one-off frantic phone call to Fizz. Or an attempt one.

While it warmed him from beak to talon, it caused too many issues.

“Well?” asked Mammon, stepping closer to the gates, craning his neck to and fro, “What happened? You finally kill the bitch?”

“Really?” sighed Bel.

Stolas pulled open a smaller door to the side of the grandiose wrought iron entrance. “Well, since you’re here,” he tittered, “I could use advice.”

Advice appeared in the form of being ushered through the winding halls of the Goetia manor, to a small back room meant to serve as servant’s quarters.

And to you.

Carefully laid upon a threadbare mattress was you. You were face down on a series of already stained towels, your leg set in a hasty cast, and your arms wrapped in splotchy bandages. The biggest concern, which made the Sins fall silent, were the six wings that the paramedics were quickly working to stabilize and bandage. One of them, a siren, would occasionally stop and rub your shoulder, whispering a song in his low bass that quieted your whimpers. The second paramedic, a lanky spider demon with needle sharp fingers, expertly wove your bandages in place with medical grade silk slung over her shoulder.

“What happened?” murmured Satan, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to hide his tightening fists.

“A star fell from Heaven, could you believe it?” Stolas sighed. He rubbed his temple, his eyes following the intricate webbing of your bandages.

“Cut the shit with the metaphors, Stolas,” huffed Bel, “What happened?” He stepped closer to keep an eye on the medics.

“Would you believe me if I said I was serious?” Stolas replied. He turned to them, blocking your form with a lift of his caped shoulders. “An angel fell in my front yard,” he hissed.

He blinked when a flash went off next to his face, squeezing them shut and rubbing them with his fists. “Wha—”

“We need to tell Lucifer,” Satan said as he stepped away, sending the picture he’d taken through a message that Stolas couldn’t see.

“Wait a moment, this is a delicate situation,” Stolas argued.

Ozzie held up a hand, hesitated, then gently placed it on the Prince’s shoulder. “How many fallen angels have you heard of landing in Hell?” he asked.

“O-One, Ozzie, but—”

“Augh, fuck!” Satan snapped, dropping his head back, “Fuckin’ message won’t go through. Can someone’s inbox be full? I haven’t ever heard of that!”

“Someone’s gotta go over there,” Bel sighed, rubbing his neck.

The Sins exchanged looks. Bee raised a hand. “I vote Levi,” she said.

“I also vote Levi,” seconded Mammon, “Bitch avoids us, she gets to go meet with the big guy.”

“First thing is the angel needs to heal,” cut in the siren medic, wandering over as his partner finished with your wings, “Anyone attempts to move our patient, and I will personally come after them, do you understand?”

Bee tilted her head, nodding, then patted Ozzie’s shoulder and headed for the door.

Mammon sneered at the siren, “Are you threatening a Sin?”

“Protecting a patient,” Bel argued absently, trailing after Bee.

“Calm down, Mammon, it’s not that deep,” interrupted Ozzie. He ushered the King of Greed out of the room and after the rest of the Sins. “Stolas,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “What do you need?”

Stolas looked between him and the medics that were finishing aligning your wings in a way that would allow them to heal properly, then at the Sin he could almost call a friend. “Would you like to explain to my wife what’s happening?” he drawled.

Ozzie clapped the Prince’s shoulder so hard he stumbled forward. “Perks of marriage, my feathered friend!” Ozzie crowed, grinning as he turned away, “Anything else, though, and you know how to find me.”

Stolas sighed, turning back to watch the medics finish their job. “If you manage to get a meeting with the King of Pride, Asmodeous,” Stolas called over his shoulder.

The door leading out into the hall creaked. Stolas squeezed his elbows and turned, watching Ozzie’s shoulders sag with a sigh. “You’ll be the first I call,” replied the King of Lust. He nodded to Stolas and left the room.

Taking a breath, the Prince turned back to the medics for information on your condition. They explained that you would need assistance with everything while you were healing, until they returned in a few weeks to check the base of your wings for stability. After that, you could move on your own, then they’d remove your casts and you could work on getting your wings in order.

“I trust that silence is something we could trust on this matter?” Stolas asked, eyeing your prone body as the medics shuffled past him.

“Of course,” replied the spider demon, “Boss would kill us if we breeched oath.”

Stolas felt a thread unravel in his back as he sighed. “Thank you.” Then, he turned before they left. “I’ll ensure payment is sent to you before day’s out.”

As the weeks passed, you slept, dreaming of the fall, of the trial, of the memories of creation that came before.

You had all of that, and you let it go.

A memory swam up to meet the voice of doubt, as though summoned from the depths.

You pulled yourself up to the edge of the gate surrounding Eden, eyes darting around the trees in search of movement that wasn’t an animal. “Did Michael say what a human was?” you asked, setting your chin on your arms.

You folded your wings against your back as your partner in crime hauled himself up next to you, grunting as he leaned on the top of the gate. “No,” Lucifer answered, huffing, “Just that Dad was making them soon. Two, he said, so they wouldn’t be alone.”

“Wonder if they’ll have tails?” you asked, “Or, wings!”

Lucifer snorted, burying his mouth in his arms to muffle his laughter. “He said they were like the monkeys,” he said, setting his chin on his fist, watching you with a smile, “But he didn’t say anything else beside that.”

“That doesn’t mean much, there’s so many monkeys and monkey adjacent creatures. Michael even made a few, you know, so I don’t trust his opinion on this,” you muttered, “You convince him to let you add the ducks?”

“It’s so difficult!” Lucifer hissed, dropping his hand, “He said Dad has to approve of them being added to the Garden!”

“And?”

“And I haven’t seen him in a while, so I can’t ask,” he huffed.

You kicked your feet behind you, setting your cheek on your arms as you watched him. “Is that why you wanted to come with me? To see if you could ask him yourself?” you asked.

He pursed his lips, looking anywhere but you, and finally smiled. “Maybe.”

“Luci, you used me!” you gasped, pushing away from the gate, your wings fluttering behind you. “I’m wounded! My heart is broken!” He laughed at your dramatics, catching your arms as you drifted past him.

“Stop that, you know that’s not the only reason why,” he said, pulling you back up to the top of the gate, “You gotta be quiet. If the guard catches us, we’ll be in trouble with Michael.”

You leaned on the gate as you watched him. “Because we’re not supposed to be spying on the little Earth project, right?” you muttered. You returned to your previous position, staring out into the vast array of trees that creaked and groaned as they grew. “I’m making a new constellation today. Do you wanna help?”

“Of course.” A hand slapped against your shoulder, pointing through the trees to a familiar tall figure near the center of the garden. He molded the dirt at his feet, building it up and up and up, sculpting features into it until, once satisfied, he breathed into the figure’s molded mouth.

Lilith.

You opened your eyes.

Wide red eyes were inches from your face, partially hidden beneath a dark fringe of styled feathers. The owner choked on a squawk and scrambled back, knocking over a tray that clattered noisily in the silent room.

“Via? Are you alright?” came a voice from somewhere past your feet. The young owlet scrambled away and disappeared out of sight, leaving you alone for a moment to regain your boundaries.

“Angel’s awake,” replied a smaller voice.

You shifted your arm beneath you and pushed yourself up, gasping as weight pressed against your back unkindly. Your eyes pricked with tears as you dropped back onto the bed. The skin around your wings seared with white hot pain.

Thin arms looped around your front and readjusted you. “Careful, my dear, you’ve suffered terrible injuries,” whispered the first voice. A cool rag dabbed your face and neck and trailed down to sooth the burn between your wings. “Octavia! Call the medics please. Inform them our patient is awake.”

“Where am I?” you rasped.

A hand brushed over your face and fixed a straw against your lips. “Drink. You’ve been unconscious for a long time, you need to drink properly,” he said.

You did as you were told. The first few swallows hurt, but you quickly finished the glass and waited for him to fetch you another. “Who are you?”

You watched the tall owl man hesitate as he refilled your glass at the edge of your vision. He stirred the ice in the glass with the straw as he moved back to your side. “My name is Stolas,” he said slowly as he sat again, “I am a Prince of the Ars Goetia, and you are in my manor in Hell.” He held the straw up to your lips again. “Specifically, the Pride Ring,” he added.

Your eyes burned for another reason. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your cheek against the pillow.

“I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear,” Stolas whispered as he smoothed a hand over your hair and down your neck.

Fell all the way to Hell. Broken. Rock bottom. You deserve it.

He set the glass aside and picked up a tissue from the table, dabbing your eyes. “You’re alright. I know the best doctors – they’ve been keeping an eye on you and they’re on their way now that you’re awake,” he murmured.

“I don’t understand,” you hiccupped, shifting to rub your tears on the pillow, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Stolas squeezed your neck lightly, leaning back out of your view for a moment. “Oh,” he gasped, a smile in his voice, “Here, this is my daughter, Octavia.”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat as you looked up. The owlet from before stood next to Stolas, fidgeting with her sleeves. You tried to keep the burning tears from crowding your eyes as you gave her a smile. “Hi.”

It wasn’t long before the medics arrived, and they ushered Stolas and Octavia out of the room to tend to you. They carefully removed your wings from the contraption they’d set up to let them heal, then removed the bandages to check your burns and injuries. They dressed your wounds in freshly spun wraps and gave you instructions on how to stretch your wings and gain strength back in all your limbs. Stolas lingered, being sure to listen to any instructions.

“If you need anything, give us a call,” said the siren demon, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“There’s medication left with the Prince, to assist with your pain,” added the spider demon as she tied the last of your bandages, “It’s all you get, alright?”

You nodded, wrapping a blanket around your back to squeeze your wings against you. It ached, like trying to shake feeling back into your arm, but you needed it. The two accepted a roll of cash, then paused at the door before disappearing out of sight.

Bel rounded the corner, leaning on the door frame.

Stolas stiffened as he sat next to you but waved a hand. “This is Belphegor,” he murmured, “King of Sloth.”

You were quiet in your introduction, and Bel nodded.

“Heard you were awake,” he said, tilting his head, “Good. I overheard them tell you everything about your condition, and that you need to be careful.” He pushed away from the door and held out a small bottle of pills. “For the pain,” he said when you stared at it, “A little better than what they gave you, Stolas.” You gingerly accepted the bottle and nodded.

“Not that the house call isn’t appreciated, Sir,” Stolas murmured, “But what brings you by?”

Bel smiled. “Letting you know personally that I couldn’t get a meeting,” he said, shrugging one shoulder, “Figured, but I thought I’d try.”

The Prince nodded, and stood to show him out, then returned to your side with a sigh.

The following months were rough. Stella glared at you every time she saw you limping around the manor, so you kept to the three halls that led to the servant’s quarters where you slept. You often heard her and Stolas in screaming matches about why you were there, that he was keeping you as some sex toy, and he would bring up your physical state multiple times. It was frustrating. It made you angry that someone’s kindness could be taken in such a way. It sat in your chest and kept you up at night long after the screaming stopped.

When you were able to start putting more weight on your leg and test your wings, Octavia would follow you like a shadow. She’d ask you questions as you practiced your steps and carried her books to regain a modicum of strength, both from curiosity at the fact that an angel crashed into her home and about what you did in Heaven.

“I made stars,” you said as you sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you.

Her already wide eyes grew, and she sat cross legged across from you. “Can you tell me?” she whispered, pulling her knees up to hug them. “You know, my dad’s specialty is astronomy. It’s what a lot of his magic focuses on.”

“Really?” You smiled. “Funny that I crashed here, then.”

“Can you tell me a story about them?” she asked.

So many stories.

You nodded.

There was one story you knew you wanted to tell. It was you and Lucifer, leaning over the parchment and trying to decide which stars needed to go over the Garden.

“What do you think will be the best?” he asked as he flipped through the designs, “It’s gotta be perfect.”

“For Lilith?” you teased.

His eyes snapped up to yours, his cheeks glowing pink. You scrunched your nose at him, trying not to smile too large at his embarrassment. “She’s pretty,” you said.

He swooned, rolling onto his back. “She’s beautiful,” he sighed.

You tapped his forehead with your finger. “C’mon. We have to decide on these constellations and you can pick the one that goes right over the Garden,” you said.

Lucifer sat up. “I know which one!”

“The duck?” you asked with a smile.

“The—” he pouted at you, “Not now.” You laughed. “Besides, I messed up that design, remember? Its neck is too long,” he said.

You flipped through the pages until you found it, tilting your head at the layout of the very specific stars you both had picked for it. “A swan is what Michael called it,” you commented.

Lucifer snorted, waving his hand, rolling onto his back again, his wings spread wide beneath him. “Stupid name,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes and took the papers, rolling next to him. His swings folded into his back, as did yours, and you laid shoulder to shoulder with him as you threw the papers into the air. The many constellations you’d made stuck to the space above your heads. “Okay, which one,” you asked, looking between them, “Which ones would you want to see if you got to star gaze with her?”

He choked next to you, sitting up to cough, and you watched him. He met your gaze eventually.

You were stupid.

It wasn’t hard to read his intentions in his eyes. You’d known him long enough to be able to read every single thought that lingered in his stare no matter how long you watched him. You knew every plan he had to head down to the garden, and you did nothing.

You smiled, instead.

“Which ones?” you asked again.

He flopped back, sighing, and finally grinned. He guided stars into place where they’d be brightest above Eden, and you pulled him from the ground to fill in the rest, until the two of you were surrounded by a globe of light.

“What were the stars above Eden?” Octavia asked.

You blinked the memory of Lucifer’s smile out of your eyes and looked over. She still sat in front of you, where you stretched your legs, watching you a wide and curious stare.

You smiled. “Depends on the time of year, time of day,” you said, “Scorpio rises in the morning, along with Taurus, and Leo. And Aquarius marks the winter solstice.

“Via?” came Stolas’s voice from around the corner. You looked up, waving as Octavia scrambled to her feet and jogged towards his voice. “Oh, you didn’t have to…” He trailed off as he appeared in the hall. He was quick to meet you, kneeling as he held out his hands. “Do you need help?”

“No,” you said, “I was hurting, actually. Wanted to stretch.”

Stolas sat just behind your toes, stretching his own legs on either side of yours, and offered you his hands. You smiled, taking them, and he gently pulled you forward. “Should we call the medics back?” he asked as he pulled you carefully, “I can. Bel is rather good about making sure they come with everything they need for you.”

“King of Sloth,” you said, nodding, “Right. I remember him.” You tilted your head as you stretched towards your legs, relaxing the tension in your back. “He mentioned a meeting?” you asked.

Stolas squeezed your hands. “Uh, right,” he said, clearing his throat, “A meeting with the King of Pride.” He waved a hand towards you and coughed again, “Considering what happened, we thought it was important that he know.”

“Luci,” you whispered after a long moment. You released his hands and sighed. “Lucifer,” you repeated.

“Right,” he agreed with a curious tilt of his head, “Strange to hear him referred to in such a casual manner, of course.”

You smiled. You drew your legs up as you leaned on them, and felt the weight of your wings slowly sinking into your back. Stolas sat up, a bright look on his face. “Look at that,” he pointed out, “You’re making pro—”

“Have you been able to set up a meeting with him?” you cut in. Your face warmed at you interrupting him, and you apologized. “Sorry,” you murmured.

The prince’s excitement shrank into a faint smile. “Sorry,” he apologized in kind, “I haven’t. Rather difficult to even get in contact with him.”

You shook your head. “It’s alright.” Then, you sighed. “I’ll do my best to get out of your hair soon enough, Stolas,” you commented, “I’d hate to keep causing problems.”

“Nonsense,” he said, shaking his head. He stood and offered his hand, which you took, and hauled you off the floor. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to,” he continued, “Stella be dammed.”

He helped you piece together a proper identity in Hell over the many weeks that followed – worked through the proper paperwork a new denizen would need when they arrived, got you a phone, clothes, and even said he could find you a job, if you wanted it.

You laughed a little as you programed Octavia’s number into your phone. She leaned over to make sure you got the picture of her and her dad to use as her contact photo. You even showed her to approve it. “What happened to taking it slow?” you asked as you handed Stolas your phone.

He was quick to add his own number, and continued to add Bel, and a few other numbers you were unsure of. “Well, you’ve been making such progress, I almost forgot you were hurt,” he mused. He handed the phone back. You scrolled through the names. Bel, Levi, Ozzie, Luci with a star next to it, Satan, Via, Stolas, Bee, Blitzy. You didn’t know half of them, but he must have had a reason to include them in your phone.

“Thank you,” you said, tapping the phone on the table, then stood. “I’m gonna go for a walk? Via, you wanna join me?”

“Su—”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Stolas asked nervously. Via wilted next to you. “I-I mean…”

You patted her head and smiled. “It’s okay. We can do something later, okay, V?” you asked.

She smiled at that, nodding, and you picked up the phone. “I’m going for a walk then,” you said, shoving it in your pocket.

Stolas’s feathers bristled. “Be careful then, if you don’t want to stay,” he said, “And be safe, and call—”

“I’ll be okay,” you hurried to say. You patted Octavia’s head as you walked past her.

You were quick to leave the study, sticking to the back halls and waving at the butler when you saw him, until you slipped out through the back door that was almost always unlocked. You pulled your phone back out of your pocket once you were outside, and searched for a map of the Pride Ring, then of Pentagram City, and you started to walk. The light from your screen hurt your eyes the longer you stared at the tiny image, and mixed with the low red ambient light of the sky and the yellow-white glow from the distant portal to Heaven made it worse. You adjusted your map once you were done messing with your eyes, following the streets out of the east section of the map and looking around.

You lowered your arm, gripping your phone as you stared at the Heaven Embassy a few blocks away.

They framed you.

You rubbed your neck, swallowing down the rage that boiled in your throat, looking down as your phone buzzed.

You could push it. Fight back.

A text appeared at your notification bar.

“It’s Satan,” it read, “Wanna talk?”

“How’d you get my number?” you asked as you followed the road away from the Embassy.

“All that rage you got is like a beacon,” he quickly replied, “And I asked Stolas.”

“Right.” You shouldered past a few Sinners as they talked on a corner, and watched a car zoom past to go down towards the southern exit of the Pentagram.

“Want company?” came the next message.

You stopped at a light, staring at it, then hit the automated reply of, “Yes” before shoving the phone in your pocket.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” said a man to your right.

You looked up, blinking at the man next to you. He smiled, tilting his head. His brown hair wasn’t styled in the same slicked back way, but more relaxed, with pieces hanging in his golden eyes. He wore a red suit jacket, opened to show the black and grey pinstripe shirt that was partially unbuttoned beneath it, and black slacks that matched his shirt. He had the same relaxed smile, and the same tilt to his head, and you had to rub your eyes to finish taking him in without seeing a blonde standing in his place.

“Satan, right?” you asked when you finally dropped your hands.

“Right on one,” he replied. He waved a hand ahead when the light turned green, and the two of you walked across the street. “You’ve been the talk of the town, angel,” he mused.

You gave him your name. He repeated it.

Sounds just like him.

“Get it out,” he teased as he led you down the street.

“You look just like Luci,” you blurted. He laughed, throwing his head back with the sound. “It’s unnerving!”

“It’s an evolution, actually,” he said when his laughter passed, “Since we get mistaken all the time up there.”

“But you’re the King of Wrath?” you asked.

“The one and only,” he answered with a smile, “And, I figured, I’m the best one to keep you from losing out to those thoughts.”

You tilted your head. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s not productive to give in to them,” he mused, “You lose every other thought, and you lose your sense of self.” He arched an eyebrow. “It’s okay to give in when it allows you to propel yourself forward.”

“You’re awfully introspective for a King of Sin,” you said.

“I will try not to take offense to that,” he laughed.

You smiled, hugging your sides as you walked. “You said I was the talk of the town?” you asked.

Satan motioned for you to turn a corner, and you did. “Oh, yeah. When you crash landed in Stolas’s front yard, we all saw you. Well, most, Levi and Luci weren’t there for some reason.” He tilted his head, “Ozzie’s fuckin’ thrilled to meet you. Same with Bee. Bel already had the pleasure, and Mammon is on the fence.”

“And Levi and Luci?”

Satan’s pace slowed. “Levi’s a hard sell. She’s not really fond of anyone, if I’m being honest,” he replied, “And no one’s seen Lucifer for about a year.”

You frowned.

Maybe he’s dead.

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He hummed, keeping a leisurely pace as the two of you walked. “Rumor is because his wife disappeared,” he quietly answered, “No one knows for sure, though.”

Lilith. In heaven. She’s in heaven.

You stopped. “Hey, uh, you’re above the Goetia, right?” you suddenly asked.

Satan turned to you, brow furrowed. “Yeah. Why?”

“So, it’d be easier for you to set up a meeting with Lucifer if you needed it?” you continued.

He rocked back on his heels, nodding with a slow smile. “That I can,” he said, “I’ll even escort you myself.”

“You would?”

“Absolutely,” he said, winking. His smile turned wicked and he hooked his arm through yours. “C’mon. We’ll go now.”

“What!” You tugged your arm free, stumbling off the curb, “No! I—I cannot see him right now, but I—”

“Why not?” Satan stared down at you, sliding his hands into his pockets as he watched you, “‘s not like you did something wrong to get here, right?”

Traitor.

“No,” you answered, rubbing your arms, “Just not ready.” You swallowed, squeezing your elbows, then sighed. “Thanks for walking with me. I’m going home.”

“Want me to—”

You held up a hand. “I can walk myself, thank you, Satan,” you replied with a smile. He nodded. “Have a good night.”

“Hey,” he called before you got too far. You looked back. “Find me in the Wrath Ring if you wanna talk, alright?” He waved a hand. “Elevator’s out the southern gate. We can hit Luci’s on the way back,” he said with a sly smile.

You nodded. “Yeah. Alright.”

Your phone beeped before you got too far, and you glanced at the screen. A text from Satan flashed across the top, with an address disappearing in the tiny message field. You opened it as pulled it up on the map to see it was the address for a gym in the Wrath Ring.

You smiled, shoved your phone into your pocket, and went home.

It took you a while before you contacted him again – weeks of testing your wings around the cramped halls, sitting in the library with Stolas while he gossiped, hiding in the study with Via when her parents started screaming again.

When one particular screaming match got too loud, you asked if she wanted to head out of the house with you.

She shook her head. “No,” she mumbled, “I’ll be alright here. I’ve got the new VoxTek headphones, they work wonders.”

You nodded. “You call me if it gets too bad, alright?”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

You stood, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Uh,” you trailed off, staring at it, then gave her a small smile, “I’m gonna go see a friend.”

She nodded. “Alright,” then she sighed and tried to smile, too, “Be careful.”

You hugged her gently and made sure she knew to call you if she needed you before you left.

Leaving a babe to the wolves.

You slowed as you walked away from the house, glancing back with second thoughts, but kept heading for the closest bus station. It didn’t cost much to catch a bus out of Pentagram City – you had to show your I.D., prove you weren’t a sinner before you were allowed on the bus – and it was a short ride to the Elevator. A ticket down was another small price, as was the ticket in the Wrath Ring to get where you were going, but it wasn’t terrible.

You would have to thank Stolas later for allowing you to use his card places. And think of a way to pay him back.

Once you were close to the address of the gym, you sent a text to Satan.

He was at the stop when your bus pulled up. His suit was burgundy. You had to rub your eyes to clear the image of his blonde twin from them.

“Coulda told me you were on your way,” he mused as you approached.

You shrugged and took his offered arm. “It was kind of a whim,” you said, “Needed to get out of the house.”

“Not all great in paradise?” he asked.

You snorted. “Paradise doesn’t exist anymore, Satan,” you murmured.

He squeezed your arm and steered you towards a squat building between two high rises. “You know how to fight?” Satan asked as he held the door open for you.

You ducked under his arm, glancing around the dingy gym, then up at him. “A little. But I’m pretty rusty.”

“Oh, we can get you back into tip top shape here,” Satan mused. He stepped past you, whistling as he led you through the gym. You passed a few rings, some with groups that were teaching each other, some with sparing matches, and one with someone fighting with a robot jester. You paused at that, staring curiously, and hurried after Satan before he got too far.

There was a bag hanging in a back corner, next to an office, and he stopped there, shedding his coat and rolling up his sleeves.

He looks so much like him.

“Do you need to change?” Satan asked as he wrapped an arm around the bag, watching you, “Or did you come ready?”

You flapped your hands, looking down at your sweatshirt and shorts, then back up at him. “Ready?” you asked.

He grinned, then slapped the bag. “Alright!” he exclaimed, “Here’s the thing about anger, there’s not one correct way to redirect it. But, giving in and just going into a blind rage doesn’t benefit anyone.” He leaned around the bag, slowly circling you. “Take it from me. Or you, you’ve had those moments, haven’t you?”

“Is that why you asked me to come here?” you asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not the only reason,” he said with a shrug, “We also needed another pretty face around here besides Sizzler.”

You would have been flattered if you weren’t confused. “Sizzler?”

He threw an arm around your shoulder and turned you, pointing to the robot jester. “Satan’s Fizzbot, A.K.A. my Fizzbot, A.K.A Sizzler,” he explained.

The jester, Sizzler, looked up and waved. You waved back.

Satan squeezed your shoulders and turned you back towards the bag. “So,” he said, his voice dropping into a familiar tone that threw you off, “I can tell you’re holding back something.” He curled his hand towards his chest like he was holding water. “It’s boiling in there. Or freezing. Hard to pinpoint with you. But you’re angry.” He whispered the last voice in your ear.

Traitor.

You swallowed the words.

“What is it, hm? What’s the thing that’s got you rocking on the edge of a completely red black-out?” he cooed.

Traitor.

Your eyes fluttered as a memory snuck up from the back of your mind, one that set your teeth together and hurt your jaw.

You remembered Gabriel flying around Heaven to find you, and barreling into your back when he did. He was babbling, squeezing your arms and pulling you down a road.

“Gabriel, what’s happening?” you finally managed to get in.

He was teary, and ichor dotted his face. “Michael’s beating the shit out of Lucifer,” he whispered, panting, “Dad’s busy and Luci did something and Dad told Michael to take care of it and Michael’s beating the shit out of him!”

“Where.”

Gabriel hauled you after him, flying far faster than you could keep up with, until he brought you to a group of angels. You shoved your way through them and caught a panting Lucifer as he was thrown to the side. You both collapsed, you holding Luci up as his legs buckled under him.

Michael towered over the both of you, chest heaving, his right hand clenched tight at his side. His knuckles dripped gold.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Michael hissed, bending at the waist to stare into his brother’s face. “Do you understand?” he breathlessly repeated.

Lucifer swallowed, bracing a hand against your forearm as he tried to get his feet under him.

“Father has restart with a new first woman for Adam because you can’t keep your hands to yourself!” Michael’s voice rose until he was screaming.

“Luci, what did you do?” you whispered.

He glanced at you for a split second, then returned his gaze to Michael. “She doesn’t want to be with him,” he rasped.

“And who told her that she has another choice?!”

“She shouldn’t have to be with him if she doesn’t want to!” Lucifer shouted back.

Michael grabbed the front of Luci’s robes and hauled him off you. “She won’t be allowed here because she directly disobeyed Father’s rules!!” Michael’s voice boomed around the crowd, “And you’ve dammed her to roam or be anywhere else but here!”

“How is that fair!?” Lucifer snapped, “She doesn’t want to be with Adam and now she can’t even fucking leave?!”

He was dropped at your feet. The ring of angels around you all stepped back. Michael stared down at his brother with barely contained frustration. “There is no fair, Lucifer,” he flatly replied, “There’s Father’s rule, and it is not to be broken.”

He proved him wrong, didn’t he?

“Well?” Satan’s teasing growl snapped you back to the gym, “What is it?” He tapped your temple and moved around to the bag. “C’mon,” he sang, “I can feel it brewing in there.”

You swallowed. Your back and shoulders ached and it took you a minute to realize you were tensing at the memory. You rubbed your neck with both hands. “What do I do to deal with it?” you asked.

Satan braced against the back of the bag and smacked a worn section of it with a grin. “Hit it. Hard as you can. And we’ll go from there.”

The last few months of your first year in Hell were spent in a pattern – wake up, talk with Via, talk with Stolas, go for a walk, head to Wrath, avoid thinking about how you still weren’t able to see Lucifer, listen to the nagging thoughts continue to echo in your head until they manifested in gold stains on your hand wraps.

Traitor.

Liar.

How cowardly you must be to hide what happened from him.

You stared at your swollen knuckles as you shuffled to the library one evening, rubbing an ache from between your fingers that you pretended wasn’t also building behind your eyes. Meeting Stolas in the library was a change from your spiraling pattern – he’d asked you to meet him once you’d returned from Wrath, and you were quick to clean yourself up before joining him.

He perked up as you entered the room, standing and waving you over to the large window behind his desk. It was covered in pillows and soft blankets, and a tray of tea was waiting on the desk nearby.

“Oh, you’re in time,” he cooed, his smile dropping as he took your hands. “What is that Satan doing to you?”

You wiggled your fingers in his grasp. “I’m doing it to myself,” you muttered. You cleared your throat and waved towards the window. “What’s this?” you asked.

Stolas skittered past you, waving at the set up. “Oh, this!” he chirped, “I thought we could sit through the extermination together.” He smiled, his shoulders hunching up hopefully. “Try to pass it as best as friends are able,” he added.

You watched him, tearing up a little, and finally smiled. “I’d like that,” you whispered.

He ushered you to the window and lifted the blanket for you to sit. You took it from him and covered your legs, sinking back into the plush pillows behind you. He picked up the tea and hurried back to you with a cheerful smile. “You know, it’s been one year since you’ve arrived in Hell.”

You looked up and took the cup of tea he offered you. “Has it?”

“That it has,” he cooed. He sat next to you, lifting the edge of the blanket to tuck his legs next to yours. He filled the opposite corner and looked out the window. “Well, almost. You arrived after it was over.”

“So, not quite a year,” you teased.

Stolas smiled. “We could count it down,” he mused. His smile faltered when you looked away. “Sorry,” he was quick to apologize.

“Don’t be,” you murmured. You sipped your tea slowly and watched the portal open in the distance. “I don’t understand,” you whispered, “I really don’t understand.”

“The exterminations?” he asked. You nodded. “I’m not too knowledgeable of them myself,” he sighed, adjusting his feet, tucking his knees up and his feet next to your thigh. “From what I understand, they’ve been going on for centuries, indiscriminate. Only recently did people notice that they went from killing everyone they could in an hour to only killing Sinners.”

“Recently?” you asked.

He nodded. “It was actually the extermination that occurred when you arrived,” he said, tilting his head, “That was the first that had been exclusive to the Pride Ring.”

There was a silence as you stared at him, trying to piece together what he was saying.

What did you do?

“Luci let this happen?” you quietly asked, “Just let people die?”

Stolas didn’t speak. He stood up, instead, folding the blanket into your lap, and padded over to his desk in the library. He tugged open the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of amber alcohol from it. He returned to his spot, wiggled the cork out with his beak, and tipped a little into your tea.

“I don’t think he had much of a choice, dear,” he whispered. He topped his own tea off and set the bottle on the ground, tucking his legs back under the blanket. “From my position, and this is just a guess, of course, I don’t think even Hell has the power to argue when a Heavenly platoon drops from the sky, armed to the teeth, and killing anyone they can while avoiding my front yard.” He sipped the tea. “Would you? If you were in Lucifer’s position?”

“Would I what?” you asked.

“Fight back,” he clarified.

Beaten down for centuries.

You stared at your boozy tea. “No,” you finally rasped, taking a sip, “He probably thinks he deserves it. Probably thinks his brothers commanded it to happen.”

A light flashed in the distance, and the portal to Heaven opened.

Stolas held out his cup for a toast, swallowing down his sadness as he watched you. “To your one-year anniversary, my angel,” he said with a faint smile.

You snorted, clinking your cup against his. “Your angel?”

“Ah, well, it’s a better nickname than others I could think of,” he replied, “And it’s not wrong.” He wiggled back into the corner of the seat. “Now. Come morning, I have a lot planned – we’ll go shopping, have a nice lunch. We can bring Via.”

“And Stella?”

“Fuck no.”

You laughed a little. The sound died in your throat as the first scream of the extermination reached the window. Stolas scrunched into himself at the sound.

“You know,” you whispered, “I miss him.” You sniffed and took a long drink of your tea, then picked up the bottle and filled it with alcohol. You vaguely recognized Bel’s label on the side. “I’ve missed him for a very, very long time.”

“Lucifer?” he asked. You nodded. “Well,” he trailed off as he finished his own tea, and took the bottle fill his cup, then placed it on the floor by his hip. “Tell me about him?” he asked.

You squeezed your cup between your hands and leaned your head on the cool window. “I uh,” you cleared your throat, “I wasn’t part of the first angels that were made. I think the third? And I was a part of the Dominion that made the cosmos. Michael said that Lucifer wanted to learn a little bit of everything when it came to creation, so after I’d gotten used to it, he said that I would have a student.”

You remembered it fondly.

You spun the heavenly light you were given into a small orb, adjusting the size to fit into a larger spiral galaxy you were piecing together. There were other seraphim creating other galaxies and designing where they were fit into the great span of the universe.

Michael called your name, and you spun so fast that you scattered the stars at the tip of your galaxy.

The other angel with him caught the few stars that rolled past him.

“This is Lucifer,” Michael introduced with a smile, ushering the angel to you, “My brother.”

“Oh, hello!” you greeted with a smile, taking the stars he returned to you. “I’ve seen you, I think. You’re helping with the Earth project, right?”

Lucifer nodded, floating closer to your galaxy to place the stars you couldn’t hold around the frayed end of your spiral. “Yeah! I’m trying to learn a bit of everything.” He grinned. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“It’s my specialty,” you replied. You added your stars to fill in the last spaces of the galaxy.

“There’s been talk of adding stars to Earth,” Michael said, smoothing out the stars to finish the galaxy off, “So, I thought that the two of you could work on that while you teach Lucifer a thing or two about making stars.”

“Can we make them into things?” Lucifer asked as your galaxy was taken away to be added to the large blueprint of the universe, “Like shapes?”

“Why not?” you asked, smiling. He brightened. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Yes, actually, I call it a duck,” he was quick to answer. Michael’s eyes widened a bit, and he shook his head as he turned away. “I thought we could make one with the stars?”

“Can you show me what you want it to look like?”

Stolas started to laugh as you explained details of the multiple sketches of different ducks that Lucifer had. You giggled, squeezing your knees with one arm while you waved your empty cup with the other. “Every constellation would have been a duck if he’d had his way!” you exclaimed.

“Did he make them?” Stolas asked, “Ducks?”

“He did, actually,” you admitted, nodding, “Luci had a pretty heavy hand in a lot of the birds on Earth but ducks were his creation. If I remember right, that’s actually how he first saw Lilith. She was watching a duck in the river.”

“You know, I don’t recall a duck constellation,” he said as he leaned back.

“There’s not,” you agreed, “It’s Cygnus.” Stolas choked on a drink and coughed as he tried to laugh. “He messed up the design and made its neck too long. When I looked at it after, the stars had already settled into place and we couldn’t fix it.”

You thumped your head against the window and glanced outside, finding the portal to Heaven small and closed, and the smoke from their extermination slowly rising into the air.

“Now’s your anniversary,” Stolas said. He took your cup and refilled it, then handed it back. “Tell me more stories.”

You squeezed the cup again and nodded. “I’d like that.”

~*~ Thanks for Reading ~*~ ~*~Tag List~*~

@amarokofficial @gluttonybiscuits

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #angelic rip off series

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shower-phantom-ideas · 9 months

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You guys just don’t understand

You can’t even begin to grasp the amount of pranks Danny could pull on super heros (is that one words? Superheros?)

Added a read more because I hate long posts

Danny as a ghost is so powerful. Like our boy can walk through walls, disappear, and fly! Do you even grasp how much more unique he is than the others guys??

Jokes aside just imagine if you will. Danny could leave batburger cups next to Batman all the time (he comes back later to toss em out of Big ol B doesn’t)

Like hell we talk about Danny just showing up basically stalking the heros but ok hear me out. He didn’t mean to figure out Batmans identity ok but he was in the right place at the right time and over heard some stuff. Now he follows Bruce Wayne around instead. Always spitting out if a batburger cup. Maybe Bruce makes eye contact with him and one time Danny just leans his drink out to as one does to offer a sip xD the man is horrified.

For the ?Robins? The other bats maybe he leaves gifts of sorts. Stuff they would like made from his ice or something. He can understand becoming a hero young and most (if not all) of them did that. He plays favourites with the younger Heros for sure. But hes still making them have there “God?? Is that you” moments like everyone else.

Hell he could follow Superman around and always make his cape flow against the wind and the Hero wouldn’t know wtf is going on. Maybe Superman hears a very slight snickering maybe but the prank is harmless enough so why worry too much. I mean it’s probably bad someone can do this without getting detected till they give themselves away by laughing but nothing harmful yet. (Yet would emphasise Batman)

I don’t know anything about GreenArrow but I assume he uses a bow and arrow so I could imagine Danny grabbing his arrows and making them fly in crazy wild paths before hitting their mark.

Idk honestly how he would fuck with GreenLatern besides like using his ghost powers to try and one up his ring. Like Lantern makes a shield? Danny makes a better one next to it or in front of it. Tbh it’s actually helping Danny get better at his powers so he does this a lot rip Hal (I did not know he was played by Ryan Reynolds maybe ill watch the newer movie)

He refuses to mess with Wonder Woman because the Phandom has told me she is his fav thus he refuses to prank her. He respects her too much and is a huge enough fan that hes too nervous to even approach. Thus she thinks she is this pranksters least favourite since she is never bothered.

Aqua-man (thx for the correction siri) is pretty fun to prank because Danny can follow the man underwater. Idk anything about science of it but imagine Danny like making a space he can talk in with his ice powers (making a bubble of sorts) to make spooky noises at ?Arthur? (R we seriously going with Arthur in this one?) like I assume without actual fish related powers, or with them I havent seen any thing aquaman, you can’t talk underwater. But also if Danny figures out his real name hes 100% gonna be playing the Hey Arthur theme at this man all the time.

He just lowkey overshadows cyborg. Not in a controlling way but just along for the ride kinda way. He was gonna make remarks about his tech but ended up being stunned by how good it is. “Fam I aint gonna lie. I came here to follow you around and make comments like a streamer but your tech is crazy cool. I mean you could have saved a little room with a more compact cooling unit but I mean this is probably some of the best stuff I have seen outside my family!” Or something idk. Maybe he goes full on antman in coldwar

As for the Flash thats pretty simple. He doesn’t let the Flash run from him. I don’t think Danny could keep up with the Flash at all. Like man cants have everyones powers (can’t he tho) but he just hangs on and pretends to have followed. I mean hes invisible the whole time so not like anyone can see lmao though if (idk who the flash is? So ill use Barry cause thats why google say) if Barry goes too fast he might get Danny to give up the game cause boy is on the side vomiting. Barry is pretty smug about probably being the first to throw the prankster for a loop but Danny is just on the side like “how can you go that fast and not be sick dude”

Like tbh I was gonna just make a list of pranks he pulls on Batman but yall seem to enjoy the Justice League so here go off I guess.

Honestly I had to charge my phone so I forget a lot of the post rip this kne

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #why is this happening you ask?#well Amity Park got destroyed by GIW and Danny can’t go back to the Zone because Vlad destroyed his whole place and moved to avoid the GIW #so Danny is doing anything to keep his mind off it #not the healthiest of mechanisms but hes like 14 or 16 so whats he know #jazz would know but shes dead (I hate killing off jazz tbh)#following around these Heros is all he has to do to keep himself distracted #plus it helps feel his protective obbsession because he can help a little here and there #I know I make the danny follows the heros around posts a lot but theres a reason for it #danny feels like such a failure so he wants to learn from them #he needs to learn from them #he has to do better he has to get better so he wont loose everything again #oop hope yall don’t read my tags it’s a mess in here

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pimosworld · 5 months

Text

The ties that bind

Pairing- Dave York x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary-Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He’s tasked to find Frankie’s, but what happens when he finds you and he wants you to himself?

CW-18+,MDNI, Angst,Fluff,Eventual Smut,Hurt, Comfort,MMF dynamics. General warnings for each chapter. Anything sensitive will be added to individual chapters.

WK-5.5K

A/N-This starts out angsty but I don’t write sad endings so keep that in mind going forward. Reader has a best friend very near and dear to my heart.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter I

Dave looks over the file on his desk again before he makes the call. He reviewed it the night before and was going to contact the client until he realized not everyone holds the same weird hours as he does. Insomnia.

He takes a sip of his coffee as he dials the number with a Florida area code. At least he would get to enjoy some nice weather this time. The last soulmate he tracked down mid winter lived in Buffalo New York, he wasted weeks trying to find him only to find out he was happily married and had no intention of leaving his current wife. The woman who hired him was devastated but…devastated doesn’t pay the bills so she was out twenty grand, and went back to being single a few states over.

They don’t always end in misery but he’s used to it now. He wonders why he still does it, maybe helping these people will erase the thought of killing someone’s soulmate when he’s contracted for his other job. He can’t think about that one too much.

“Hello Santiago speaking.” Dave glances down at the file once more to be sure.

“Ugh yes I’m Dave York calling to reach Francisco Morales?” He hears a low curse on the other end and some apologies.

“Oh ya, just give me a second.” He can hear ruffling and the sound of a sliding door. My patience is already wearing thin.

“Thanks for returning my call. I’m actually hiring you on behalf of my friend Francisco.”

This wouldn’t be the first time he was contracted to find someone’s soulmate because some friend or family member couldn’t keep their nose where it belonged. There would most certainly be drama and resistance. Two things Dave did not handle well.

“That’s very generous of you. Is Francisco eager to find his soulmate?”

“He ugh…well…yes, yes he is.” Fat chance

“I would need to meet him of course to go through with this, you understand?”

“Of course, that won’t be a problem at all. I sent you the details of when and where we can meet and provided you with the deposit.” At least he means business, either way Dave doesn’t care about the in’s and outs of why people do it. He knows it’s important… or at least he did.

He finishes going over the rules with Santiago that will hopefully get relaid to Frankie. He’ll find your soulmate and set up a meeting. If the person does not wish to pursue the relationship he will relay that to you to avoid any in person embarrassment. No stalking or harassment involved. If he can’t find them within 30 days you get your money back.

Some people frowned upon what he did. Purists thought you should meet your soulmate organically. They were rarely alone for more than a few years before they found theirs so he didn’t like listening to what they had to say.

He wasted years trying to find his love. When he did find her…it was already too late. Those six months were the best and worst of his life. Knowing he’s found his soulmate and gets to spend every waking moment with her only to have it ripped from his grasp.

If he had to spend the rest of his tortured life helping others not waste time then he would.

****

Why the hell did Will make them wear bow ties? This must be Amanda’s suggestion, there’s no way he decided they should all be this uncomfortable on his wedding day.

Frankie looks over at Ben and Will having some brotherly talk as if the younger miller has some wise words of advice having been married for all of six months. He loved rubbing it in that he was able to tie the knot before the rest of them of course excluding Tom who got married years ago when they were all in basic.

He tries really hard not to be bitter on these days but he can’t help himself. Of course he ran that risk when he married someone who was not his soulmate. He loved Sophia so much it didn’t matter to him. It’s worked out for plenty of other people and it worked for him…until it didn’t.

He didn’t try very hard to find his soulmate. Between being in the military, not being able to put down roots for so long and the fact that his soulmate probably hated him for all his scars and tattoos he can’t say he put much of an effort into finding them.

The hummingbird tattoo on his wrist practically taunted him his entire marriage. He pretended he didn’t care and so did she. She always told him they would try for kids when she was ready and he never pushed. He thought she was finally ready when she told him they needed to talk. Never in a million years did he expect her to say she found her soulmate and she was leaving him.

Their baby boy should be a year old by now, Sophia was pregnant within a month of the divorce being finalized. This was information Santiago insisted despite the others protests that he needed to know so that he could move on.

He can’t put the blame all on her. He left for Colombia to bring home money so they could start a family and he came home with nothing but news that her best friend's husband was dead.

It must be some kind of fucked up karma that they went back for the money and now he’s alone. If he’s really being honest with himself, he knows they never really loved each other. It was convenient for both of them. Frankie doesn’t like being honest with himself so he'd rather continue on painting her as the villain in his story.

“Hermano, you need some help with that tie.” Santiago starts fidgeting before he can even answer no. He slaps his hands away and Santi backs away with his hands up in surrender.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“I’m always nice.” Frankie scoffs at that. Santiago was never nice unless he wanted something from you.

“You picked up my tux, gave me a ride here and now you’re offering to fix my tie?!” He gives him a look and Santi knows it’s only a matter of time.

“I have a surprise for you.” He resumes fixing his tie despite Frankie’s protests.

“The last time you surprised me someone died.” Santi clears his throat but doesn’t protest, it must be bad.

“I hired a PI to find your soulmate.” That last part is rushed out but Frankie hears him clear as day.

He shoves him back a few steps which draws the attention of Ben and Will. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Chill out Fish, what’s your problem?” Ben steps between the two of them as Frankie looks as though he could spit fire.

“I told him about the PI.” Ben whips around to Santi.

“I thought we were gonna wait until tomorrow.” Frankie looks over at Will in disbelief.

“You fucking knew about this?” He can see it in their eyes and how no one will look at him directly.

“Can we please talk about this tomorrow? I’m getting married in an hour.”

Sure he’ll talk tomorrow, they can all talk about staying out of his life and meddling in his business. Pope can call off the PI and they can all go back to being happy with their soulmates and Santiago can go fuck off somewhere in another country as he always does, leaving Frankie to mope alone with his thoughts.

“Ya we’ll talk tomorrow.” Ben comes over to fix his tie and Frankie clenches his fists at his side.

This is going to be a long day.

****

The new Mr.& Mrs. Miller do look very in love on the dance floor as Frankie enjoys his second piece of cake. Cake never betrayed him…his ex wife and his best friends maybe but never cake.

Ben dips his wife and it sorely reminds him of his wedding day when he and Sophia ended up with calloused feet from dancing all night.

His chest tightens at the sight of Molly dancing with her girls. She stayed so strong through it all and she looks so happy, maybe it’s just a front or maybe she’s choosing not to be a miserable sap like him. She lost her soulmate and never once judged them for what they did. She knew how Tom could be. Frankie doesn’t know how someone could treat their soulmate the way Tom treated Molly. He’s better off alone than with a soulmate who doesn’t love him back.

Santiago makes his way over to the table and gestures to the seat next to Frankie. He nods his head for him to sit down while he watches the dance floor. They sit in silence for a moment and Frankie thinks about how selfish he is for being so petulant about the whole thing.

Santiago never cared about finding his soulmate, maybe because of their line of work or maybe it was the nature of his being. He’ll never forget the look on his face when his tattoo’s disappeared. He told the guys it was fine but they could hear him trying to muffle his cries in his bunk.

“I’ll do it Pope.” Santiago looks at him with a mixture of shock and excitement.

“I came ready for an argument.” He slides Frankie’s plate closer to him to steal a bite of cake. “We meet him tomorrow.”

“Jesus what if I said no?” Frankie slides the plate back to himself, not ready to let go of his precious dessert.

“You might want to lay off the cake if you’re going to meet your soulmate soon.” Frankie flips him off as Santi grabs the plate and saunters off to the dance floor.

****

Dave’s always early to meet a client, but never this early. He couldn’t find a lot of information on Francisco Morales but he did find out he was Delta Force and so was the man that hired him on his behalf. He always met potential clients in a public place of their choosing to get an idea of who they are. There's no doubt in his mind that this coffee shop holds no significance to the two men and will most certainly not help him figure out anything about Francisco.

He knows it’s their military training that they will never seem to break free from. It doesn’t make it easy for your soulmate to find you when you're as mysterious as Francisco Morales. No social media, no parking tickets, no convictions. A minor hiccup with his pilot's license but his record was scrubbed clean a few years ago. It takes a lot of money to completely wipe your record.

Their trip to Colombia wasn’t as off the books as they thought. With Dave’s connections he can find out a lot more about the average person than they think. It’s true he is paid to find your soulmate but he has a duty to uphold to not put said person in harm's way. Frankie’s sketchy past and interesting finances make him a little wary to just introduce him to the person he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He doesn’t know the circumstances behind his wife leaving him and that also has his guard up. Who just up and leaves after 8 years?

He pauses his thoughts momentarily as he notices an old Jeep pull into the parking lot of the cafe. He hasn’t seen a Jeep like that in years. His suspicions are correct when two men around his age step out. Still relatively in military shape, the shorter of the two in a black t-shirt much too tight for him and black jeans. The taller one in an open flannel and blue jeans donning a dirty cap and aviators…that must be Francisco.

They both survey the area as if it’s their first time here and that confirms his other notion that these men wanted to meet somewhere not near their home. Probably thirty minutes to an hour outside of where they actually live if he would guess. Fifteen minutes early to be safe but still not earlier than him.

“I should’ve worn something nicer.” Frankie smooths his hands down the front of his worn flannel as they approach the coffee shop. This was his nice flannel but maybe he could’ve taken an iron to it or something.

“Relax hermano, he didn’t bring your soulmate to the meeting.”

“You vetted this guy?” Frankie couldn’t find much information on David York, which worried him a little.

“As much as I could.” Frankie holds the door open for Santiago as they enter and head straight for the counter. Coffee is much needed after imbibing too much at the wedding. He’s grateful in hindsight that he chose this location just outside of town.

“Corner,black suit.”

Frankie glances up, hopefully shielded by his sunglasses. “He looks smug.”

“Don’t start.” Santi hisses under his breath as he steps up to place their order. “ Two black coffees please.”

Best case scenario, this guy finds his soulmate and Frankie can’t even wrap his head around what he would do with that information. It scares him to even think about it.

Worst case scenario, Pope is out some money that he didn’t ask him to spend in the first place and he can go back to whatever semblance of a life he was living before all this.

Way to be positive Frankie

****

Introductions are awkward to say the least. Frankie and Santi seated at the small cafe table across from Dave who has set a notepad down next to his small coffee. The silence is deafening as he scribbled down a few things after giving them a once over.

“So I’m sure you have some questions for me. If you don’t mind holding those until I’ve gone over everything.” He’s not really asking and Frankie already had his hackles up at the grim outlook of the man in front of him.

He always hated ‘suits’ . This guy is obviously ex-government and he’s not really sure how someone like him ended up in the line of work of finding someone’s soulmate. Besides the obvious monetary aspect there is a lot of love and emotion involved and the man seated before him doesn’t strike him as the romantic type.

“Why did you decide to hire me to find your soulmate?” I didn’t hire you. Frankie looks over at Santiago hoping he’ll help him out a little.

“Well ugh…I actually didn’t.” Dave raises his eyebrows at that but lets him continue. “My friend here was kind enough to give me a push in the right direction.” After too many drinks and a lot of talking he reconciled with Santi that this was something he should at least try to pursue.

Everything seems pretty straightforward once he starts going over his normal way of doing things. Frankie understands after the initial round of uncomfortable questions that Dave needs to make sure he’s not some weirdo. He opted to return a few peoples initial deposit upon meeting them and not deeming them safe enough or sane enough to track down their soulmate and uproot their lives.

Frankie’s thankful he doesn’t pry too much into his reason for divorcing. Dave mostly wanted to make sure that he was not still legally married because he won’t set anyone up for heartbreak.

Dave has a thirty day guarantee, if he doesn’t find them in that time frame you get a full refund. Frankie is a little shocked at his confidence. People spend their entire lives trying to find their soulmate and he can somehow guarantee it.

“So, now that I’ve gone over all the logistics. Do you have any questions for me?” Frankie looks to Santiago who’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this meeting. Maybe out of courtesy for Frankie or perhaps he’s sizing him up. Either way, Frankie really only has one thing he is curious about.

“Why do you do it?”

Dave takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee. It’s pretty bad if he’s being honest but he needs a moment. He always needs a moment when this question is brought up. It’s usually one of the only questions he hates answering. Truthfully answering would require to let people in ‘strangers’.

These same strangers trust him enough to do this so as uncomfortable as it is he provides enough of an answer to suit both parties.

“I hate to say that it pays well, but I have to state the obvious.” For the first time during the meeting Frankie can see his hard exterior crack a little. The first time where he seems nervous and unsure of what he’s going to say.

“Also…I wish I had met my wife sooner. I may have had more time with her.”

Santiago excuses himself from the table. He doesn’t do well with emotions. Frankie knows that probably stung a little. He’s not sure if it’s worse that Santi never got to meet them or if meeting them briefly makes it all that more painful.

“I appreciate your honesty Dave.” He sends him a tight lip smile that doesn’t meet the eyes.

“If that’s all you have for me I’ll be in touch in the next few days hopefully with an update.”

Frankie shakes his hand, a firm handshake he notes to himself. Dave has a nice build, he’s not sure why he makes a note of that as well.

Frankie finished the rest of his coffee and headed outside. Santi leans against the back of the Jeep scrolling idly on his phone. He looks up at him but says nothing as they both get in, Frankie in the driver's seat.

“I just needed some air.” Santiago looks out the passenger window seemingly fixated on the passing cars.

“I know hermano.” He doesn’t need to say anything more.

Neither of them speak for a while, too many thoughts on their minds as they ponder the meeting and what all of it means. Seeing Santiago still struggling with losing his soulmate makes Frankie want to give this his all.

****

Santi can’t shake the thought of Dave doing all this because he didn’t have enough time with his soulmate. At least he got to spend some time with them. He's lied to himself all these years after his tattoos and scars of his soulmate were long gone. This was not about him though, this is about helping his friend move on and be happy. That’s all he wants for them after the chaos he caused in Colombia. He has to make things right for him. Frankie may not see it as his fault but Santiago can’t help but think maybe Sophia would’ve stayed if things hadn’t gone so poorly.

Santiago would never know that things started to sour in their relationship long before that Ill fated trip to steal someone else’s money.

Frankie was the one who had it all together. A real job he could be proud of , a wife he loved , a house for their future family. Things quickly fell apart for him after they returned and he was no longer the one that they looked to for guidance.

Santiago made it his mission to help Frankie get back on his feet after they went back for the money. Frankie got his license back, he bought a home that didn’t remind him of all his memories with his ex wife, now all he needed to do was find love.

Santi rubs his hands across his jeans trying to shake himself from the trance. Frankie eyes him cautiously from the driver’s seat.

Santiago leans forward to turn the radio down. “So how are you feeling about all this?”

“Considering he has a guarantee, a little better than I felt going in.”

He doesn't want to get his hopes up too much but he’s starting to get that feeling like things may be taking a turn for the better.

Frankie pulls up to Santi’s house and puts the car in park.

“I know what you’re gonna say, I’ll be fine I promise and I’ll call you later after I sleep off this hangover.” Frankie smiles at that,Santiago only lets a select few into his world and he won’t push it any further.

“I just want to say thanks Pope. This really means a lot.” Santi waves him off and hops out, he knows how much it means but he’s not gonna get any more emotions out of this day.

“Love you hermano, this time next year we’ll be planning your wedding.” Santi calls out over his shoulder before he enters his house. Frankie wants to roll his eyes at that but he secretly hopes that he’s right.

****

“Alicia! We’re gonna be late.” You stand in your bedroom in front of the floor length mirror putting the finishing touches on your makeup. The modest yellow sundress and strappy heels you bought ages ago are finally getting some use.

“I can’t decide on what to wear.” You faintly hear her yell from her bedroom.

You’re not particularly excited about this singles event she signed you up for but you certainly didn’t want to walk in late and have all eyes on you. She’s your best friend so you agreed to accompany her on one of her many schemes to get you back on the dating scene.

You cross the hall to her room and find a mountain of clothes on her bed and more clothes flying out of her closet.

“Let me see what you’re wearing.” She emerges from her closet in a slinky black dress to match her long black hair. She was a bombshell in anything she wore so you aren’t sure what the hold up is.

“Alicia that looks hot, wear that.” She gives herself a once over in the mirror as she smooths her hands down the front.

“You don’t think this is sending the wrong message?”

“Babe you said yourself you need to get laid.” You glance down at the time on your phone. “Shit we’re gonna be really late.”

“You’re right, I did say that. Thanks for talking me off a ledge.” She grabs her phone from the nightstand as you follow her out of the room.

“You’re gonna need to pretend my room is yours if you bring someone home though.” You gesture towards the disaster she left on her bed.

She turns to you, grabbing your face and kissing your forehead. “Only a true friend would let me defile her bed for the sake of a hookup.”

You laugh as you shoo her along out the door. “That’s what friends are for.”

****

The bad news, you were indeed late. The good news is no one seems to notice as you both enter the hotel lounge for the event. Everyone is talking and mingling amongst themselves so you and Alicia have an opportunity to grab a drink and settle in.

You haven’t been on a proper date in years so she thought this would be a nice way to ease back into things. No pressure or obligations and no awkward first date etiquette. People were just here to simply talk and get to know each other. If you made a connection that was great but if you just didn’t like someone then there were no hard feelings.

“Cute guy at twelve o'clock is checking you out.” You try to do a subtle scan of the room as you sip your fruity drink.

“Alicia I don’t know what that means…Wait how do you know he wasn’t checking you out?” She steps in front of you to slightly block your view.

“He’s in the gray button down on my right .” She half whispers as she attempts a head nod. “Do you see him?”

“Oh shit he’s coming over here.” You both do your best worst to act casual as a tall and very attractive…distractingly attractive man walks over.

“I do have to say yellow is definitely your color.”

“Told you.” Alicia says under her breath as she leaves you at the bar with this stranger.

You thank him politely for his compliment and introduce yourself as you try to ignore the lewd gestures your best friend is making with her hands behind his back. Thankfully she’s interrupted by a man with a tap on her shoulder. He’s noticeably not the type she goes for. He’s much too tall for her…she prefers to tower over her love interests ‘it makes me feel powerful’ in her words.

Jeff was nice enough as he engaged you in conversation. He mostly droned on about his job in finance and his hobbies, his five year goals and now come to think of it…you didn’t really get a chance to talk about yourself. He excused himself from the conversation when he saw someone he knew in the crowd, leaving you in your comfortable silence once again.

Your moment of reprieve is short lived when a woman approaches you. You actually enjoy talking to her and you can tell she’s listening intently. She’s beautiful, funny and smart. Perhaps another time you would be interested but she mentioned she just got out of a long term relationship and you don’t have the energy to be someone’s rebound. You’ve spent years repairing your broken heart and if this is your one attempt at trying to find love again it just wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

You still exchanged numbers after she’d said how nice it was to meet you. Your eyes immediately find Alicia’s across the room with a man who could be her grandfather. He doesn’t seem to notice her look of save me etched across her face. You take this moment to tease her a bit, making the same hand motions she did earlier. An older woman looks on in shock when you realize a little too late that you’ve caught the attention of others in the room.

After offering an apologetic smile, you gather yourself and join her across the room.

“Sorry to interrupt, Alicia, can I borrow you for a moment.”

She loops her arm in yours pulling you close to her side. “It was nice to meet you Irving.”

“The pleasure is all mine dear.” He takes her free hand, planting a sloppy wet kiss on the top. You bite your cheek to stifle a laugh as she waves him off. You can feel her eyes on you as you exit the lounge.

If looks could kill you’d be a goner.

“Irving seemed nice.”

“Shut up.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles as you make it safely to the hotel lobby out of sight of anyone trying to vy for your attention.

These were the moments you lived for with your best friend. The reason you were able to get back on your feet when you moved across the country to start your life over. She took you in like a stray cat, no questions asked when you replied to her ad looking for a roommate. You didn’t find out until later on that she didn’t need the money, she just hated living alone.

She came from a wealthy family and traveled the world before settling in Naples Florida. She never had a soulmate…it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to go their entire lives without so much as a mark or tattoo. It makes you wonder if the universe chooses at random or if people are destined for that path. She is such a free spirit it almost makes sense why she can’t be tied down to just one person. Her biggest problem is making sure her current interests aren't only after her for money.

“So…what’s the plan for the rest of the evening babe?” You both step out still arm in arm. It’s a beautiful sunset starting just over the tops of the buildings downtown. You could walk down to the beach or drab a drink at another bar.

You can feel your dress starting to cling to your back from the humidity and you made a huge mistake wearing heels that weren’t broken in yet. Alicia looks at you and then pulls out her phone to call a car to come get you. “Let’s go home and eat ice cream while we discuss what a train wreck that was.”

You let out a sigh of relief as you push back trying to stand on the heels of your feet. “That sounds like a perfect night.”

****

“At one point he actually took his dentures out to show me.” Alicia buries her head in the pillow as you make a disgusted face.

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” You’re laughing to the point of a stomach ache.

“Ya, you sound really sorry.” She throws the pillow at you on the other end of the couch. “So tell me about the girl. You were talking to her for a while.” She raises one eyebrow at you as she reaches down to the coffee table for the carton of rocky road.

“She was nice.” You lean forward grabbing the carton from her hands. “She was more than nice actually…but she just got out of a serious relationship.”

“Ugh…no one wants to be a rebound.”

Your thoughts exactly.

You swear sometimes you share a brain, or maybe you have just spent so much time with each other that you can’t help but think alike.

“I’m glad we went, I needed to break the ice. It’s not like the love of my life is gonna waltz into the record store.” You loved your job, you always had a love for music. There was something so special about the medium of records standing the test of time. That’s the kind of love you wanted.

“Let’s just marry each other if this dating thing doesn’t work out.” She holds out her pinky as you wrap yours around hers.

“Deal.”

You raise from the couch gathering your plush blankets. “I’m gonna turn in for the night, love you leesh.”

“Love you too hon’, get some sleep.”

****

Sleep

That was a joke in its own right. The problem with having anxiety is the one time where your brain should quiet down is when it wants to be the most active.

You brush your thumb along the etched roses on your ring finger. It’s such a fine and delicate tattoo, the line work is beautiful and the stem of it perfectly curls around coming to a point at the end of your finger.

You hate to assume, but it’s always felt feminine in nature. It doesn’t seem like a drunken mistake or a rushed decision. The tattoo feels intentional. You had a lot of tattoos in a short amount of time when you were in college. These tattoos were overtly masculine. A small Blackhawk tattoo on your left wrist, almost mirroring your hummingbird. A gun of some kind on your left ankle…you weren’t familiar with firearms. A tiny elephant on the inside of your left thigh, by far the most adorable of the set.

In short succession they all adorned your body before you graduated from the California Institute of the Arts with a minor in arts management and a major in music history. Your step mother always said it was a waste and your father couldn’t be bothered to defend you. Your mother would have been proud though.

It was years before the roses showed up on your finger one beautiful spring day. It was so unlike the others it turned your world upside down.

The reason you moved across the country to escape the control and the pressure of someone who couldn’t love you with those scars and tattoos. Resenting you more and more each day knowing that you belonged to someone else.

It’s those thoughts that keep you up at night. The nightmares and horrible things that only your mind thinks up. As much as you try to push those thoughts away, you know deep down someone is out there. Made for you.

We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

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604to647 · 4 months

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Safest with You (Ch. 8 - The Cab)

5K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Unable to be apart from you, Din decides to be more honest.

Warnings: Angst and pining again, but the return of fluff at the end, some insecure!Din, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.)

A/N: Just so you don’t think my imagination is that cheesy, the waiter with the folded napkin actually happened to me (The Woman was Too Stunned to Speak)😂 Thank you for your patience as I posted some other pieces before this one and as always for reading! Hope everyone is having a good 2024 so far!

Series Masterlist

Your friends are more than a little surprised to see you show up teary eyed at brunch the next day; like you, they had expected your third date with Din would end with earth shattering orgasms, not a heart shattering goodbye.

You cry while you tell them about the date and how it ended. They’re as confused as you have been about what happened; you mumble, “He just said it wasn’t a good fit,” hanging your head.

Rory, predictably, goes straight to revenge, “Do we hate him? Should we key his car?”

Lifting your head because you know she’s only 37% kidding, you say softly, “No. He was kind about it. And he’s allowed, you know? He’s allowed to call it quits after three dates. We really only knew each other for two weeks.”

You cross your arms on the table and lay your head down. You're a jumble of raw emotions right now: confusion over the sudden change in Din's feelings, distress over having possibly done something to precipitate that change, but mainly sadness over the loss of what could have been. You realize now that you had harboured high hopes for what a potential future with Din might be like, and those hopes had been the source of some most welcomed feelings of excitement and optimism over the past few weeks - to have them dashed, so unexpectedly too, has left you crushed and at a bit of a loss. Had you done something wrong? You think you must have, and that thought has you biting back tears of disappointment in yourself.

Lala strokes your hair as you sniffle quietly, “…I didn’t even get to fuck him.” You bury your face in your arms with a whine. It feels a little better to make jokes.

“Aw babe, I’m so sorry. We all know how much you wanted to fuck him. We wanted you to fuck him too,” Bea sympathetically rubs your back.

“You know… it’s probably good you didn’t sleep with him, babe. Like, it would have been really shitty for him to sleep with you and then break up with you after,” Katie muses out loud.

Propping yourself up on your chin, you lament, “He wouldn’t have done that. He’s too sweet.”

“Is now a good time to mention that Mark is still single?”

“JEN!!!!”, the other girls yell. But you laugh, a small laugh but it’s genuine.

“What?! I asked if it was a good time? Sheesh!! Plus it made her laugh, okay?”

You lay your head back down on your arms, and listen to your friends chatter. They know you well enough to know that you don’t want to keep talking about it, and that you’ll feel the most comfort from just being in their supportive presence.

Lala and Bea make sure to periodically let you know they’re there with a gentle rub of your back or arm until the food arrives, and when you dig into your eggs you feel slightly better.

Just over a month passes before you see Din again.

During that same time, Din sees you twice: once intentionally and a second by accident.

The first time is the day after your last date. He goes to the restaurant where he knows you and your friends have your standing brunch date, hoping you would seek the comfort of your friends after an upsetting night. He doesn’t go in, but does peer in through the window to look for you; even though your back is to him, he can tell it’s you and moreover, he can tell you’re crying. Din feels as if his heart has been ripped out of his chest, remembering your hurt and confused face from the night before. As he watches you lay your head on the table and your friend stroke your hair lovingly, he fights the urge to burst into the restaurant and beg you to take him back. He’s desperate to tell you it was all a mistake and that he can’t bear to be apart from you, but the voice in his head that wouldn’t quiet yesterday night is still there, telling him you’re better off without him and far away from what his world entails. When he sees your food arrive, and that you’re in better enough spirits to eat, he leaves feeling assured that your friends will take good care of you, and, although it depresses him to think this, certain that soon he will be but a distant memory for you.

The second time Din sees you is three weeks later when he’s out for a run and he passes a park that seems to be hosting a big dog meet up. Din quickly realizes that all the dogs are the same breed as Al and he stops to scan the crowd looking for you, but Al spot him first. Tail wagging, Al separates from the group and jogs over to the edge of the park where Din is standing – excited and full of energy; Din leans over the fence and pets the exuberant pup, “Hey buddy! Miss you so much. You being a good boy?” He scratches Al all over his head and neck, making sure to give him a few extra ear rubs that Din knows he likes. Din’s missed Al and is pleasantly surprised to see him, but his heart leaps at the realization that you must be nearby. He spots you finally, talking with some dog people, and when he sees your lips say, Where’s Al? he gives a final pat to the dog, knowing that it won’t be long before you’re coming over. Although Din tells Al to go back to you, the normally obedient dog is not budging, he stays with his tail wagging and now barking at Din excitedly. Out of options, Din moves behind a nearby tree so not to be spotted when you inevitably notice where all the racket is coming from. As he predicted, you come over to fetch Al, “What are you doing over here by yourself, silly boy? Were there some squirrels? Are you yelling at the squirrels?” you coo at the dog, who’s bouncing up and down, still barking. You give Al a bunch of kisses, then lean over and whisper in his ear; happily, Al waits to trot by your side back to the group of other dogs while you give the area a quick look to see if you can ascertain what drew your dog over here in the first place. And that’s when Din finally looks upon your face. The picture of you and Al from the farmer’s market on his phone that Din’s been starting at over the past few weeks is nothing compared to the real thing. Your smile is as warm and inviting as ever, and your eyes bright and full of glee; he knew he wasn’t over you, but he didn’t realize his heart could further break until the thought strikes him that you would never again look at him with an expression like that. He waits until you’ve rejoined the group in the park before reluctantly resuming his jog and leaving you and Al behind once again.

“I’m stuffed,” you moan, holding your stomach. Your friends are all doing some variation of the same gesture and nod in agreement having just finished a delicious birthday dinner for Katie at her favourite Italian restaurant. Great food, even better drinks, and loving company – it was the perfect birthday celebration. It’s a shame you’re all too full for cake or dessert.

“Can we postpone birthday dessert to brunch?” groans Katie.

That sounds like a fantastic idea, you can’t eat any more tonight, “You’re the birthday girl! We can do anything you want," you grin.

“Maybe what she wants for her birthday is for you to go back in and get that waiter’s number? Didn’t you think the waiter was cute?” Jen says, purposefully avoiding Katie’s look of incredulousness.

He had been cute. And he had folded a napkin into a rose and placed it next to your plate when he served you. Then when you had joked that you weren’t the birthday girl, he had come back and with folded roses for all the girls. Yes, it was super cheesy, but sweet. And maybe, just maybe, you might have been tempted to give him a chance if it wasn’t for a certain curly haired, brown eyed boxer that you knew could be a hundred times sweeter, who you knew you would be comparing him to in every other way as well. Even now, more than a month after you last saw Din, you didn’t think there was any actual competition. You must have a far away look in your eyes, because Bea wraps her arms around you and looks at Jen, “What about Mark? What would Mark say if he knew you were cheating on him with some waiter?” This snaps you back to the present with a giggle. The girls all laugh and you give each other prolonged goodbye hugs and cheek kisses, before you leave them to catch a cab in the opposite direction. Shouting love yous and promises to each message when you get home safe, you turn and head down the street and around the corner.

The neighbourhood you’re in is lively at this time of night, lined with busy restaurants and cafes that are finishing up last service, and a few clubs that are just getting their night started. With all the activity and bright lights, you don’t have any qualms about be out by yourself, but you are finding yourself a bit cold so you hope to catch a cab sooner rather than later. The dress you wore for dinner has long sleeves but is backless, which had been sufficiently warm earlier in the evening, but now that there’s a bite to the air, you’re starting to shiver a little. You decide to wait on the curb right outside a club that seems fairly busy already, reasoning it’s probably a high traffic area or at least it will be easy to grab a taxi after it drops off clubgoers.

You miscalculated. Not a lot of cabs are going down this street tonight for some reason, and the two that you do spot with their lights on either don’t see you or are claimed by other people first. You’re starting to get cold for real, hugging yourself and rubbing your arm with the hand that isn’t raised in the air.

“Allow me,” says a deep voice from behind you. You turn to find Din standing close, with his arm already out to hail the next free cab that comes down the street.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. You’re not sure where he came from, and are very surprised he’s there at all. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, but here he is handsome as ever. He’s dressed in a sharp dark suit, his matching dress shirt neatly buttoned, but no tie – he looks so good. His broad shoulders are stretching his suit jacket in all the right places, and the suit sleeves hug his muscular arms perfectly snug. This time when you shiver, you know it’s more than the crisp night air that’s giving you the chills. Din looks down at you over the rim of his black framed glasses with a soft expression, and without a word, takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders; his free hand then slips under the front of the jacket and around your waist, settling on your lower back where your backless dress allows him to touch your cool, bare skin. He murmurs, “It’s cold out,” before gently pulling you in towards him. You’re close enough to smell him now – the scent of his cologne alone makes you press your thighs together a little; you place you hands gently on his hard chest before lightly trailing your fingers down and wrapping your arms around him. Feeling the hand on your back press you closer, you rest your cheek against his chest and close your eyes. The two of you stand like this, comfortably holding each other in silence for a few minutes before a taxi pulls up.

Din reluctantly pulls away from you to open the back door of the cab; after helping you in, he opens the front passenger door to speak to the driver directly. He gives the driver your address, and then to your shock, pulls out his wallet and you see him take out several hundred-dollar bills and hand them to the driver, “Sir, it’s very important to me that this lady gets home safe, and I know I can count on you. For your help, please keep anything over the meter as a tip, a thank you from me.”

The driver is similarly surprised, but takes in Din’s imposing figure and gives him a confident nod, “No problem, sir. Consider it done.”

Din makes a point to look at the driver certificate, “Thank you, Carl,” patting the driver on the shoulder before closing the door. He comes around the still open back seat door and crouches so you’re making eye contact with him from your seat. “Thank you, Din. You didn’t need to do that,” you say softly, but with a look of gratitude so he know you’re truly touched. Din reaches in the cab to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear, “Need to know you’re safe,” he says tenderly, letting his hand cradle your cheek.

He pauses for a moment, almost unsure, then asks, “Were you out here on a date?”

You don't know if there is any other intended meaning behind the question, but you give a little chuckle, “No, I was out for Katie’s birthday dinner; we went to Luigi’s. Everyone else shared a cab over the bridge and I walked over here to catch a cab uptown.” You’re not sure, but you think you see a flicker of relief flash across Din’s face. “What about you? You here to do some clubbing? This music seems really your style,” you tease.

Din laughs when at that exact moment, the door of the club opens and the loud cacophony of electronic beats spills out into the street. You smile wide at Din and he’s elated; his hand still on your face, he softly strokes your cheek with his thumb as you smile at one another. He’s about to answer with a quip of his own, when a loud voice from near the club doors calls his name, “Din!! Are you coming in or what?”

Din stills his hand and turns his head to give the person a nod. You move your head and peer around Din to see who he’s speaking to; you catch a brief glimpse of Vanessa, dressed up to the nines for the club, spinning around on her 4-inch heels and stomping back into the club.

Oh. You fold your hands in your lap and look down, fiddling with your fingers. You’re starting to feel a bit stupid for imagining that there might still be a spark between you and Din. It seems that you might not be out on a date, but of course he could be.

Din knows exactly what you’re thinking and is quick to correct you, “We’re not here together - I’m doing a security escort tonight. Just making sure my old boss’ niece and her friends get in to the club safely; Vanessa's just part of the group.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” you shrug, defeated.

Din tips your face up gently, and says sadly, “What if I want to owe you an explanation?”

You bring both of your hands to his face and search his eyes, afraid you might be misunderstanding his words. “Din,” you whisper. And then his lips meet yours. It’s as if he never stopped kissing you – his kiss is so warm and familiar, you hadn’t fully realized until this moment the extent of how much you missed it. And him.

You’re both slow to break apart, looking deeply into the other’s eyes with longing. Din speaks first, “Pretty bird, I’ve missed you so much. I never should have walked away; I’ve thought of you every day since.”

You look at him softly, “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m so sorry for leaving. I can’t tell you how much I’ve regretted hurting you. I’m so sorry, baby,” Din pleads with something close to desperation in his eyes.

You pull him in by his collar and kiss him again, this time more intensely than before, your desire and neediness bubbling to the surface. As you thread your fingers through Din’s curls, he leans further into the cab, bracing one hand on the car seat and the other grabbing your upper thigh where the hem of your dress ends. Where his hand touches your bare skin, you feel a warmth radiate and you gasp softly into Din’s mouth. He takes this as permission to deepen your kisses, opening his mouth, his tongue begging to be let in. Allowing him access, you moan softly a he licks into you. Fuck. You had forgotten what a good kisser he was. You pull away gently, still not sure what any of this means, and open your eyes to see Din looking at you like he used to, with adoration and hunger. You have a million questions, and out of habit, you look over to the driver to ask if he minds giving you some more time before starting the fare. Unsurprisingly, Carl seems totally unbothered and committed to not paying attention to what’s happening in the backseat; the generous tip from Din having secured his patience and discretion. Din is reading your thoughts: you deserve answers and all the time needed for those answers; he cups your face with his hands to redirect your attention back to him, “I should get back to work now, pretty bird. But we’ll talk, okay?” He hopes you can read the assurance he’s trying to convey with his eyes. Nodding, you start to take off his jacket, but Din stops you, pulling it back over your shoulders, “Keep it, sweetheart. It’s cold.”

“I’ll get it back to you,” you promise. Soon, I hope, your eyes plead.

Din understands the unspoken request, “I know you will.” He presses his lips to yours softly one last time as a promise of his own, “Let me know when you make it home safe, baby.”

Gently closing your door, Din knocks twice on the roof of the car to indicate to the driver that it’s time to depart. You look out the window, and softly hold Din’s gaze as the cab drives away.

---

After you get home, you walk Al, check in with the group chat to make sure everyone made it home, then change out of your dinner clothes. Washing off your make up, you send Din a quick text: 5 stars cab ride. Thank you for making sure I get home safe. You never deleted Din’s contact or the text conversation, and now as you scroll up through your old messages, you’re reminded of how easy and flirty your banter used to be. You still don’t know what happened the night of Jimmy’s fight to change how Din felt about you and until you find out, despite tonight’s kisses and confessions, you can’t be sure that he feels the way you do, and this thought has your heart sinking a little.

After distractedly finishing a few odd tasks around the apartment and unsuccessfully picking up your book a few times, you decide to go to bed when your phone dings.

Pretty bird, are you still up? Has Al gone for his walk yet?

Al’s gone out already!

Do you think…he wants to go out again?

Your phone rings before you can respond; it’s Din, and you can’t help but smile when you answer, “Hello? Din?”

“Hey pretty bird, do you think Al might be up for a second walk tonight?”

You look at your dog peacefully snoozing next to you on the couch, unawares, “Probably! Are you off work soon?”

“I’m downstairs right now, if that’s okay.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken. You ask for 5 minutes and use it to pull on some sweats and swap out your underwear for a sexy black lace set, the same set you had worn for Din the last time you had seen him. Picking this particular set wasn’t intentional, but putting lingerie on to match your mood is; you don’t know what you’re expecting, but your desire for this man didn’t diminish during your time apart and you can’t help the warmth of want that’s been building in you since you saw him a few hours ago.

As you and Al walk through the front doors, your first thought is of how familiar and comfortable this feels; a late night dog walk together that you’ve looked forward to many times. Your second thought is of just how goddamn hot Din is. His hair, longer than you remembered, had been slicked back a little for work, but now it’s a mussed up and looks soft and touchable again. You favourite pair of his glasses are comfortably perched on his distinct nose, one of your favourite features of his handsome profile. His facial hair is a little scragglier than a month ago, but you like it – it makes his greys more distinct, the sight of which is making you a little weak in the knees. You internally scold yourself to get it together so you don’t throw yourself at him when you get close enough. Din’s smile for you is wide and genuine but with a hint of shyness. However, for Al, Din’s squatting down, arms out wide, welcoming Al’s slobbery kisses and excited pawing.

“Ok, Al, calm down,” you tell the dog, even though you yourself feel anything but calm. You hand Din his jacket, which you brought down with you, “Guess you really wanted your jacket back, eh?”

Din takes it from you and puts it on in a smooth motion, “Thank you. I do really want this jacket back. I really missed this jacket. It’s the best and most perfect jacket. I’m lost without this jacket.”

You chuckle and pull him in by the lapels of said jacket for a kiss. Slow and sweet, you press your lips to Din’s and breath in his scent as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you in gently. The two of you stay like this, reveling in each other’s touch for a few minutes before moving apart, as if you both know things can’t progress further until you address what’s unsaid between you. You walk hand in hand for about half a block in silence before you’re the one brave enough to broach the topic.

“Din,” you look at him with unsure eyes, “what happened? I thought everything was going so well. Did something happen the night of Jimmy’s fight? Did I do something wrong? Did… your friends not like me?”

“Oh, pretty bird, god no,” Din stops walking, so he can face you. He’s devastated that you might have thought this whole time that you were somehow at fault for his mistakes, although he should have known that your instinct would be to try and take accountability for when things went wrong. He looks at your anxious face and hope he is showing the proper amount of sincerity with his expression and voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. You could never. You were sweet, and perfect, and funny, and smart, and everyone loved you. I promise. I… it was…you were so lovely – you are so lovely… and all I could see.. I- shit…”

You lead Din by the hand to a sidewalk bench so he can collect his thoughts. When you’re both seated, Din sighs and takes a deep breath before he starts again, “I need to tell you something about me, pretty bird.” He’s nervous, his deepest insecurity about his relationship with you about to be spoken out loud, “I’m… not a good guy.” He shakes his head a little when he sees you’re about to protest, and presses on, “You know how I worked in personal security? It wasn’t just body guarding work or escorting people’s nieces to clubs… I… hurt people. And sometimes when I do that work again, I have to hurt people still.”

Your face is neutral as you take in Din’s words, but you don’t recoil from him or look like you want to run away, so he continues.

“The people that I worked for, that Paz and the rest of the guys… the Mandos, still work for… it’s really one person. A family really. The Fett family… I don’t know if you’ve ever heard anything… or read about them in the paper? Well…”

You shake your head a little; you haven’t but you think you know what Din is alluding to, and you’re getting a more complete picture of what Din meant when he said he came from a different “world”. You can tell he has so much more to say, to explain, so you stay silent.

“…I’ve known them all my life. All the Mandos have. Boba, he’s the head of the family, he was like a second dad to me growing up, and one of my dad’s best friends. I’ve known him and the family a long time… they’re not bad people, I swear, pretty bird. But… they’re involved in some not so savoury businesses… the type of business that make protection and security… essential. Which is where the Mandos come in… and where I came in. Some of the people involved in these kinds of businesses… unsavoury is probably too kind of a word to describe them. And those were the kind of people that were there at the fight that night. They were all around and… baby, you were so lovely and perfect, and you had no idea the type of filth you were surrounded by. I thought, how could I pull you down to that level? Get you dirty like that? Like, literally, you got bloodied.” Din hangs his head.

“I felt so guilty dragging you into that world… so, I let you go. You’re too good and sweet to be around people like that. People like… me.” Din can’t even look at you as he finishes.

To say you’re surprised by this confession is an understatement. Never in a million years would you have guessed that Din walking away had been for your (perceived) benefit; you’re also not sure how to go about correcting him of some of the falsities that he’s convinced himself of, namely that you’re somehow too good to be in his world, but you think you have to address the most egregious one first. Bringing the hand that Din isn’t cradling in his up to his face, you gently stroke his jaw with your thumb so he will meet your eye; you want, no need, him to hear you,

“How can you say you’re not a good guy, Din? You’re the kindest guy, the most considerate guy. The things you’ve done? First, I want you to know, anything you tell me about that type of work or your family. I will never tell anyone, okay? Please know you can trust me. Second, I don’t need to know any details and I am positive that anything you’ve done, you did out of necessity and never out of cruelty. Do you know how I know that without knowing any of the particulars? Because you are a good man. You can harness so much strength and power, and yet, you choose to be so, so gentle; you approach everyone and everything with care – it’s evident in the way you treat me, Al, your friends and the way you speak of your dad, the community, the guys at the gym, even the Fett family. You take care of people. That’s who you are.” You ask again, “How can you say you’re not a good guy?” Tilting your head at Din, you search his eyes, willing him to understand how you feel, “I don’t know what you thought I would think of you, but nothing will change my mind – you’re selfless, loyal… a protector.”

Din looks into your eyes and finds the sincerity and kindness that he’s been missing from his life for the past month; how could you be so loving and kind to him after he had hurt you, made you cry? The way you looked that night crying, was not one he would easily forget. He vows to never make you cry like that again if he can help it; every other concern he had about bringing his world into your life has evaporated in this moment with your tender words. He should have known you would be pragmatic, thoughtful and open-minded. He should have trusted you to have been able to handle the truth; he feels like he owes you another apology. Instead, he simply whispers thank you, before descending on you and kissing you fervently, urged by the want and urgency that has accumulated from having been away from you for so long.

This feels so right. It feels perfect to have Din’s hands on you again. To have his mouth on yours, his tongue trailing over your tongue, his teeth lightly nipping your bottom lip. But you can’t assume he’s thinking or hoping for the same thing you are, not after last time. You pull away gently, and look at Din with an expression he can’t quite read, something between pleading and uncertainty, “Din… is this for tonight only? It’s okay if it is, I just don’t want to assume I know what you want.”

Din tips your face to his so that there can be no possibility for misunderstanding, “Oh, pretty bird. It can be, if that’s what you want. But if you’ll give me a second chance, I’m yours. I’m yours even if you don’t, if I’m being honest.”

That’s all you need to hear, and you launch yourself at Din, slamming into his body, practically laying across his lap as you attach your lips to his. Kissing him over and over, unable to keep from smiling, you moan slightly when Din’s hands wander down to your backside, giving both cheeks a hard squeeze and not letting go, using his grip to pull you up into him. He’s grinning now too, deepening his kisses, unable to keep his happiness from spilling over into your mouth.

Climbing off of him, and slightly breathless as you stand, you reach your hand out to Din, “Do you want to come up?” Din places his hand in yours and gets up; towering over you, he looks down at your beaming face and can’t help but smile back, “I really, really do, pretty bird.”

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #no y/n #modern au #modern!din djarin

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hale-of-stiles-heart · 3 months

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comfort and chamomile

my first finished bg3 fic! Astarion x f!Tav, just something a lil fluffy with some comfort! really hope you enjoy it! also on ao3! tagging the amazing @spokir hope you enjoy getting to finally have some Tav fic!

It’s been hours since they’ve made camp for the night but Tav’s been annoyingly absent, disappearing into her tent the moment she finished pitching it, never to re-emerge that day. Astarion can’t help the way he finds himself frowning as he lounges outside of his own tent, taking advantage of the afternoon sunshine to read. His eyes occasionally flicker over to Tav’s tent, as though willing her to emerge and come sit by his side as she usually does during evenings at camp.

Alas, apparently the tadpole wriggling around the recesses of his mind doesn’t grant him the ability to summon his lover through sheer force of will. Shame, that.

The rest of their party is clustered around the fire blazing in the center of camp as Gale works on preparing dinner, looking more witch than wizard as he stirs a large pot of simmering soup. The savory scent of sauteed venison and wild carrot and potato seasoned with rosemary and thyme wafts throughout camp, appetizing enough it’s a wonder Tav hasn’t slipped out of her tent to gather with the others in anticipation of their meal. Astarion’s frown deepens.

It had been yet another long day, hours of hiking overhill through the wilderness as they edged ever closer to Baldur’s Gate, up at the very crack of dawn just to immediately hit the road, barely taking time for a quick breakfast. Fortunately, they hadn’t run into any trouble along the way, no fiends offering deals or bloodthirsty worgs ambushing them, but it was a draining day nonetheless. Now, with Tav holed up in her tent, Astarion can’t help but be rather annoyed by her uncharacteristic absence, so accustomed to Tav being by his side as they laze around camp.

Even if they weren’t actively conversing, focused on their own diversions and self-appointed chores, they always seemed to gravitate towards each other, Astarion reading while she sewed ripped tunics and trousers or had her nose buried in her sketchbook. Other times, they talked about whatever came to mind, Astarion regaling her with tidbits of tawdry city gossip or continuing to teach her how to embroider.

There were often evenings spent sipping wine while reading together or playing with each other’s hair, Tav playing with his meticulously maintained curls while he attempted to tame her riotous mass of curls into a thick braid so she could sleep without her hair becoming a bird’s nest overnight. It was all very domestic. Sickeningly so, truly.

Never did Astarion think he would enjoy something so banal, let alone actually miss it when he was suddenly without it for an evening, but now with Tav nowhere to be found, he finds himself aching with the absence of it. He can’t stand it, the niggling dissatisfaction left by Tav’s truancy, the irrational worry that he had somehow done something wrong, something that would keep her away. Feeling inexplicably neglected and more than a bit petty, wrestling with the maelstrom of confused emotion roiling inside him, Astarion abruptly stands from his nest of cushions, snapping his book shut and carelessly tossing it aside.

It’s a rather short walk to Tav’s tent, the two of them typically setting up their tents across from or directly beside one another. It simply makes sense considering how often he slips into her tent for a little midnight snack, as well as some other nocturnal extracurricular activities.

Walking only a stone’s throw away, Astarion strides over to the entrance of Tav’s tent, poking his head inside, a snarky comment already on the tip of his tongue. But the words wither and die before he can so much as open his mouth as soon as he catches sight of Tav.

He had expected to find her absorbed in something mundane like darning a pair of Wyll’s socks or filling the pages of her thick sketchbook, reorganizing her pack or sharpening one of her many, many knives. Something innocuous that had managed to distract her enough to keep her from following her usual routine.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he finds her lying in the middle of her small tent on her bedroll, dressed down in her modest camp clothes. She’s lying on her side, curled up in a tight ball, practically hugging her knees to her chest. Her arms are loosely crossed on her pillow, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her hands are curled so tightly in the threadbare fabric of her pillowcase that her knuckles are bone white. Very softly, he can hear her let out a small sniff, followed by a faint, but pained, groan.

Immediately, all of Astarion’s annoyance vanishes as he looks at her, clearly uncomfortable and in terrible pain. It must be one of her migraines. This one must be especially bad. It’s perfectly obvious now that he’s belatedly recognizing the obvious signs; the way she’s sequestered herself in her tent, entry flaps closed to block out the intense afternoon sunlight, keeping her distance from the lively conversation around the fire.

Astarion’s chest aches as he looks down at Tav curled up in so much pain, wishing he could do something to help, that he could just take it all away, magically make it all better. He considers lying down beside her and pulling her into his arm, wants to stroke her messy hair and rub circles onto her back, anything he can think of to try to soothe her the way she does when he wakes in the middle of the night because of night terrors full of Cazador’s face and the echoing voices of his previous victims.

But he hesitates, not sure if Tav would welcome the touch or company in her current state, not wanting to exacerbate her pain or amplify her discomfort. Frown returning in full force, Astarion reluctantly retreats, carefully closing the tent flap to shut out the sunlight.

He lingers just outside Tav’s tent for a moment, gears turning in his mind as he tries to formulate a plan of attack. It doesn’t exactly come naturally, caring about another person, anticipating their needs, especially outside of the bedroom.

He’s not exactly a dutiful, generous friend like Karlach or Wyll, isn’t a healer like Shadowheart or Halsin, isn’t even dogged or determined enough to even attempt to be either like Lae’zel. But he does have plenty of experience with pain. He knows Tav does, as well, tight-lipped though she is about the exact details. The mere thought lights a proverbial fire beneath his feet and not a heartbeat later he’s hurrying back over to his own tent to rifle through his things, random bits and bobs he’s collected on their journey, either for their potential resale value or simply because he’d been able to get away with nicking them.

He combs through his bags until he finds the small copper tea kettle he’d swiped from the last village they’d passed through, humming in triumph when he does. Tea kettle and mismatched teacup in hand, he ventures back over to the fire and their gathered companions. He ignores Gale’s squawk of indignation as he helps himself to one of the large burlap sacks the wizard keeps their food supplies in. Rolling his eyes, Astarion snaps, “Oh, relax! I’m just looking for some tea. And some honey. Maybe a lemon. Do we have any ginger?”

“Is soldier okay?” Karlach asks, face pinched with genuine concern for her friend, nearly pouting. On either side of her, Halsin and Wyll mirror her expression, frowning in worry, Tav’s absence as glaringly obvious to the rest of camp as it was to Astarion.

“Just fine, darling. Nasty migraine,” Astarion dismisses, thumbing through the large tin of various tea bags Gale keeps on hand — one of the only benefits of keeping the wizard around in Astarion’s less-than-humble opinion — hoping they have some of the herbal blend Tav prefers when her head aches. “Thought I’d bring her some tea. Set aside some dinner for her.”

So absorbed in his single-minded search, Astarion misses the look Shadowheart and Karlach exchange, pursing their lips and smiling at each other almost conspiratorially. Clearing her throat, Shadowheart offers, “I have some more of those ginger chews if you’d like to bring her some.”

“And I’ve some honey for her tea,” Halsin adds with one of his unfalteringly friendly smiles, already reaching for his nearby bag.

“Oh!” Astarion blinks owlishly as he looks up from where he’s kneeling, Shadowheart and Halsin already passing him their contributions. He glances down at the offerings, not quite sure what to say, a bit stunned by their earnest eagerness to help relieve Tav’s pain, their willingness to help him with no questions asked or insults hurled. He swallowed thickly. “Well. I’m certain she’ll thank you both profusely, sweetheart that she is.”

He’s spared from trying to formulate a straightforward thank you of his own, the authenticity making him squirm, when Gale starts ladling out bowls of hearty stew, dutifully handing them out. Carefully balancing his bowl on his knee, Wyll passes Astarion their enchanted thermos for Tav’s portion of dinner, ensuring it’ll stay hot until she’s feeling well enough to eat, her migraines often accompanied by terrible nausea. With the cooking pot set aside to be washed later, Astarion sets up the kettle over the fire, setting aside the teacup with a bag of tea at the ready.

While the water boils, Astarion busies himself with bustling around the camp while their companions eagerly tuck into their supper. He slips the small bag of ginger chews into his pocket and retrieves his discarded book, occupying himself by fiddling with the cracked spine of the book and the wooden lid of the jar of honey, willing the water to heat quicker. The tadpole doesn’t offer him any help in that regard, either. Once the water’s finally boiled, Astarion rushes over to pour it into the prepared teacup, drizzling a generous dollop of honey into it before tossing the jar back to Halsin, the druid’s heightened reflexes on display as he effortlessly snags it out of the air without missing a beat. With everything prepared, Astarion gathers it all up: thermos tucked under his arm, his book in one hand, steaming cup of tea in the other. Turning on his heel with a grateful nod to their companions, he starts back towards Tav’s tent, pausing for a moment as another thought occurs to him, clicking his dog and calling over his shoulder, “Dog!”

Scratch tips his head to the side where he sits by Halsin, looking up at the druid with baleful eyes while begging for scraps. After a split second of hesitation, Scratch stands and jogs over to follow Astarion, the owlbear cub toddling after him in turn, the two of them a nigh inseparable pair.

Quietly as possible, Astarion pulls aside one of the entry flaps of Tav’s tent, wincing when Tav whines again from her bedroll, the pain clearly not abating on its own. Scratch immediately pads into the tent, making a beeline to Tav’s side. He plops down beside her with a soft sympathetic whine, his cold nose pressed against her elbow. The owlbear cub waddles after him with a low trilling churr, curling up on Tav’s other side, pressing its back to hers as it curls into a tight fluffy ball.

Astarion slips into the tent as well, closing the flap behind him. He remains by the entrance of the tent, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he just watches Tav. She sluggishly relaxes a bit, stretching out her legs with a sigh and shifting closer to Scratch. She uncrosses her arms with another sigh, throwing an arm around Scratch’s shoulders, fingers lazily brushing through the thick fur at his nape. Scratch responds in kind, sniffing at her face before dragging his tongue over her cheek in an affectionate doggy kiss. Astarion wrinkles his nose but Tav breathes a soft laugh, her voice a bit rough as she asks, “Hey, Scratch, what’re you doing in here?”

Smile returning, Astarion clears his throat as he steps father into the tent, stepping around the owlbear cub. There’s a spare cushion by the cub’s head, a tufted circular pillow in a creamy shade of white, one of the many Astarion’s collected during their journey. Astarion helps himself to it, carefully setting the tea and thermos down, reaching into his pocket to fish out the bag of ginger chews before lowering himself onto the cushion to sit.

Tav hums as she awkwardly rolls over, having to gracelessly wriggle around now that she’s sandwiched between her four-legged darlings. Once she’s gotten comfortable in her new position, burying a hand in the cub’s downy neck feathers, she opens her eyes with a wince and raises her head to squint up at Astarion.

She looks exhausted when Astarion finally sees her face, her smile weak and shaky, exhaustion evident in her eyes and the furrow of her forehead, fly-away curls falling in her face. But her voice is sweet as ever, if not a bit reedy, as she breathes, “Astarion… Hi…”

“Hello, darling,” Astarion greets with his usual near purr of a drawl, keeping his voice low in deference to her pounding head. He can’t resist reaching out to brush a wayward curl off the curve of her cheek, his fingers lingering on her skin to bask in the simple delight of just touching her. His chest aches at the way she leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she hums. He smiles at her fondly, adoringly, sure his infatuation is writ across his face.

“Brought you a little something,” he tells her, voice low. “Aside from your adoring furry fans.”

He moves the cup of tea closer until it’s within arm’s reach but not close enough to the owlbear cub to arouse its insatiable curiosity. Tav makes a soft sound of acknowledgment, eyes flitting closed for a long moment as she inhales the herbal bouquet of the tea. “Mmm, chamomile?”

“With wildflower honey,” Astarion confirms, preening to himself at how well he’s remembered her preferences when her smile deepens. He motions at the thermos and bag of candied ginger. “And there’s some stew for whenever you’re ready for supper. And Shadowheart gave me some of those ginger chews you like so much.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tav says softly, lowering her head back down to press her cheek against the thick plumage of the cub’s shoulder, smiling up at Astarion so sweetly it makes his chest ache, an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach.

His tongue feels thick and awkward in his mouth, all of his practiced lines evaporating into thin air in the face of her guileless sincerity. He has to lick his suddenly dry lips before he can manage what he hopes is an effortlessly charming, “Of course, darling! Anything for my favorite little treat.”

Tav lets out a low sigh, her soft smile persisting. As much as he hungers for her presence, the simple pleasure of her quiet company, enough to send him into such a tizzy earlier, he doesn’t want to disturb her. She’s earned her rest a hundred times over, deserves some time to herself to recuperate and relax. Stroking his knuckles over her cheek, he offers, “I’ll leave you be now, love. I trust you’ll be safe and comfortable with your loyal bodyguards in attendance but if you need anything, just call for me, I won’t be far.”

He begins to rise from his seat but Tav lets out a displeased noise, clumsily reaching out towards him, her fingertips only just grazing the cool skin of his wrist. He immediately freezes, eyes meeting hers, worried something’s terribly wrong. Her voice is a bit hesitant as she entreats, “Wait. Don’t go.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my love?” He asks, watching the way her brows furrow, always so very reluctant to ask for anything for herself she deemed selfish or too indulgent, no matter how important it was to her. Never had Astarion ever imagined himself playing nursemaid, especially not willingly, but for Tav… Hells, for Tav, brewing her tea and spoon-feeding her soup was the least of what he would do. For Tav, he would wait on hand and foot, attend to all her needs and all of her seldom expressed needs. And all with only minor complaining.

“Just… Could you just stay?” She asks quietly, absently stroking her hand down the owlbear cub’s back where downy feathers give way to thick brown fur. Her cheeks pinken rather adorably as she adds, “ Maybe you could read to me? Or just talk? I… You know I like your voice. I, uh, I might end up falling asleep but… I’d like you to stay. If you want.”

If Astarion’s heart wasn’t the cold dead thing it was, he was sure it would be bursting at her words. Such a simple request, spoken with all the gravity of a solemn confession, a plea for absolution. It’s humbling. Something he’s determined to never take for granted.

“Well, when you put it like that! It’d be rather cruel of me to leave now, wouldn’t it?” He drawls, flashing his fangs as he sends her a haughty, flirtatious smile. He’s already cracking open his book as he shifts on his cushion, getting more comfortable. He notices the way her smile falters for a moment, quick to reassure her, “And yes, before you ask, I want to stay, I’m not just playing pity the sick girl.”

His chest fills with warmth even sweeter than sunshine as she smiles up at him as though he had just lassoed the moon and all the stars down from the sky just to present them to her. He’s rather tempted to do just that if it made her keep smiling at him like that.

Feeling as though he’s been set alight by her affection, he reaches down to gently card his fingers through her long curls as he begins to read, trying his damnedest not to feel like a complete lovesick fool as he reads nothing but love poem after love poem until the sun has long since set and Tav’s migraine is no more than a rather unpleasant memory.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 fic #bg3 fic #tavstarion #fic #my fic #amber writes

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