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norris-lando · 8 months

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it's nice to have a friend

Lando Norris x reader, mentions of Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings: smut, angst, fighting, breakup

author's note: Soooo... This was inspired by so many songs, I'm not going to list them all but the songs are by Taylor Swift, Gracie Abrams and Sabrina Carpenter. It's a longish one with a few twists. I hope you like it! :)

word count: 6.1k

school bell rings, walk me home, sidewalk chalk covered in snow, lost my gloves, you give me one, 'wanna hang out?', yeah sounds like fun

You went through your camera roll and found the perfect pictures, adding them to your post. Under them you wrote, 'Bestest birthday to my partner in crime!!! 🩷 I love you and can't wait to celebrate your special day with you soon xx'. You made sure to tag Lando and pressed post.

The two of you had known each for what felt like forever. Growing up next to each, you spend most of your childhood playing at your house or his parents cabin during your shared family trips.

Throughout the years you knew each other, everything always stayed the same between the two of you. Your relationship never changed or shifted. You stayed friends no matter what and whatever either of you went through in life, you knew you could trust the other with it.

It was always nice to know you had someone standing in your corner.

—

When Lando became more well known in the media, people obviously started to question your relationship. Or more so if you really were just friends. You were known for your online banter, posting pictures of each other and just the kind of all around 'act' you two had. And sure, it could sometimes seem like there was something more going on but it was never the case. Making it easy for the two of you to just brush off those kind of allegations.

But when Lando started seeing someone, a special someone, you couldn't help but feel just a little jealous. Not that you would ever admit it to him, you pushed those feelings away the best you could.

You were just friends after all, right? And nothing could ever come between you.

we were supposed to be just friends, you don't live in my part of town but maybe I'll see you out some weekend, depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship I'm in and what's in my system

It was Lando's birthday party. Everyone was invited.

You walked in to the bar and searched around the room for a familiar face. It was jam-packed but soon enough you spot the birthday boy himself.

Lando was leaning against the bar, waiting for a drink he had just ordered. A smile appeared on his face when he saw you and he waved for you to come over.

For a moment you could swear he was eyeing you in a way he hadn't before. The way someone might when they see someone they like. But you assumed it was nothing as you made your way over to him. He was dating someone else anyway so nothing could happen between the two of you even if you wanted to.

A part of you wondered where his new girlfriend was. You hadn't yet seen her anywhere although you had assumed she would have been all over Lando. Usually that was always the case and sometimes you even felt bad for Lando. The poor guy was trying to exist but his girlfriend was always there, lurking around some corner, not wasting any time to cling herself to Lando's side. However, not wanting your mood to affect your night, you pushed away the thought of his girlfriend.

Lando had taken it upon himself to order you a drink, knowing full well what you wanted. He pushed it towards you, sliding it on the countertop. He still had that stupid big but cute smile on his face. You pulled him in for a tight hug and congratulated him yet again on his birthday.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he held onto your body. You could have stayed like that all night but you pulled away soon enough. The smell of his cologne still lingering in the air around you.

You couldn't help yourself. You had to ask. "Where's your girlfriend?" The music was loud so you had to yell. And the smile on Lando's lips finally seemed to shy away a little.

"She had a work thing she couldn't miss," he said sheepisly as his gaze went around the room. As if looking for a way out of what could easily became a really awkward conversation. "Come on, let's go sit down. The rest of the grid is waiting for you." Lando took your hand and led you through the crowd of people.

In the back of your mind you kept feeling like Lando was rushing to keep the conversation away from his girlfriend and you couldn't help but wonder why it was so. You kept the thought to yourself however as you let Lando guide you to a more secluded section of the bar.

Everyone was so happy to see you. You squeezed yourself in between Lando and Charles on the small couch and set your drink on the table.

Tonight was going to be one special night, you thought to yourself as you looked around and relaxed. If only you'd know exactly how special this night was going to be...

You weren't sure how many drinks you had downed by the end of the night but it was enough to get you drunk. And when the night was nearing to its end, the only thing on your mind was fast food and a comfy bed to sleep in.

You had went around the party saying your goodbyes to everyone before you went to find Lando and tell him you were going to head home.

"I'm coming with you," was all he said. Before you could argue back, tell him that he should stay - it was birthday party after all - you found yourself outside waiting for your ride that Lando had arranged.

You slipped into the back of the taxi with Lando trailing in after you. He gave the driver the adress before closing the door and joining you in the backseat.

The ride back felt fast and suddenly you found yourself stumbling up the steps to your door. Lando held you tightly by the waist making sure you wouldn't fall over. A giggle left your lips as his hands were holding onto you, tickling you somehow.

"What's so funny," Lando asked. It was dark inside your apartment but you could make out Lando's features and saw a small smile on his confused looking face.

Another giggle came out. "You," you blurted just as you felt your legs about to give in. Lando caught you just in time, picking you up in his arms, whispering something about taking you straight to bed.

"We'll get that take out tomorrow morning," he told you, referring back to your cab drive where you had told him you wanted fries and a cheeseburger.

You tried to convince him that you weren't that tired yet. That you could handle some food before passing out but he didn't listen to you. Instead, Lando led you straight to bed.

Upstairs, Lando opened the door to your bedroom. He put you down gently on one side before moving the covers and telling you to roll over. You did as you were told and snuggled under the covers.

"Please stay with me," you whispered gently as Lando was about to leave the room to go sleep on your couch.

Your words made Lando froze for a moment, contemplating if it was a good idea. He had never told you but he had had feelings for you for a while but never acted on them, thinking you only saw him as a friend. Hope arose in his chest when he heard your words.

But things were different now. He was in a relationship and couldn't act on his feelings, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Stay," you said again, more pleading this time and Lando couldn't help himself. He climbed into bed with you and turned on his side so that the two of you were facing each other.

A smile was playing on your lips as you looked at Lando. He was smiling too.

You tried to control yourself but you leaned in a little closer, scooting over to him so that your lips were only inches away before you closed the gap and kissed him.

Both of you were taken aback by what just happened. You soon however relaxed into the feeling. Lando's hands moving over your body as the kiss grew more passionate with each passing second.

There was a nagging feeling in Lando's chest. He was going to regret this in the morning but he couldn't help himself. He had wanted you for so long as more than a friend.

It didn't take long before your clothes were falling on the floor. Lando climbed on top of you, holding his body up with his arms. The two of you stared at each other as if you were not sure what to do next, not knowing where this moment was going to lead to.

"Are you sure?" Your voice felt small around the tension in the room, both of you knowing full well what you were referring to.

"I'm sure," Lando whispered back as your lips crashed together. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently grabbed his hair, pulling, keeping him close to your face. It felt like no matter how close you were together, it still wasn't enough.

Lando pulled away from your kiss. A groan left your lips at the loss of contact. You were almost pouting, thinking this was it. That Lando had changed his mind, come to his senses and realised that what was going to happen wasn't right.

It didn't last long as you soon felt Lando make his way down, leaving wet kisses behind all over your body. He made his way in between your legs and placed a small kiss on your clit. This time it was a moan that escaped your lips. Your hips buckled upwards, showing Lando how eager you were.

There was a vibration, Lando was chuckling. "Let me take my time," he said as his fingers went up and down your wet pussy before pushing first one, then two, inside you. He was curling them as you felt them hit your g-spot. You were soon a moaning mess under his touch.

"Please- Lando, I want-" You couldn't finish your thought as you felt Lando's movements become faster and faster. He shushed you as he hoisted himself back up, his face inches away from yours.

"I want you too, so bad," he told you as you could feel his cock on your entrance. It didn't take long before he pushed it inside you.

Lando was moving his hips back and forth. The two of you moaning and groaning loudly. Everything felt so surreal and so good and you wondered why you hadn't confessed your feelings to Lando before.

It didn't take long for the two of you to finish nearly simultaneously, your orgasms leaving you both breathless. Lando collapsed next to you as you tried to catch your breath.

You turned your head so that you were looking at him. Lando was on his back, a small smile playing on his lips. You scooted closer to him, letting your head rest on his chest. Lando wrapped his arms around you and pulled you even closer. He placed a small kiss on the top of your head and soon the two of you were fast asleep.

friends breakup, friends get married, strangers get born, strangers get buried, trends change, rumors fly through new skies but I'm right where you left me

The morning after Lando's birthday party, you woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside your window as sun peeked through the closed curtains. There was a pounding in your head as memories from last night flooded your mind but you couldn't help but smile.

You rolled around in your bed, turning on your side so that you could face Lando who you'd remembered had fallen asleep in your bed after your shared night together. But to your surprise he wasn't there. The bed was empty apart from you and it suddenly felt cold.

You listened closely for a moment, thinking Lando must have gotten up and went to make you breakfast. Or maybe he, too, had a pounding headache and a horrible hangover and he had gone to rummage around your cabinets in the search of a cure.

Taking your phone from the bedside table and going over Instagram and other social media, you got up from the bed and made your way around the house. Lando was nowhere to be seen and you got a sort of nagging feeling. Or maybe it was more of sickness in the pit of your stomach. You weren't sure if it was the hangover or the guilt from your last night actions but you knew you had to rush to the bathroom before you threw up all over the floor.

Days passed and you hadn't heard from Lando. Each day, you tried to call him, leaving him multiple voicemails and texts but he didn't answer any of them. You felt angry. Betrayed. Lando knew what he was doing that night. He told you he was sure. He had said to you that this was what he wanted. And now what? Had he changed his mind and now wanted nothing to do with you? It felt unfair to you. Had you really lost your lifelong best friend over a stupid, drunken mistake?

If you had known that this was how it was going to be, you'd never gone to that stupid party. You would have stayed at home alone. At least then you would still have your best friend.

she looks nothing like me so why do you look so happy, now I think I get the cause of it, you were holding out to find the opposite

Instagram had become your worst nightmare. In fact, all of social media had become your worst nightmare. You had tried your best to stay away from it all but somehow you always found yourself on Lando's pages, trying to make out what he was doing and who he was with whenever he posted something.

And then one night just as you were about to put your phone away and stop your stalking you saw something you wished you could unsee.

A picture of Lando and his girlfriend was staring right at you. You couldn't look away so you stared at the picture for a godawful time, embarrassed at your own behaviour. Lando had taken his girlfriend to Paris and now you could see for yourself just how happy the two of them looked together, posing under the Eiffel Tower.

Thoughts were racing around your mind but one struck out more than the others. She doesn't look anything like me so why is he looking so happy? In fact, she looked exactly like all those girls you had spent the better half of your teenage years making fun of with Lando.

The feeling of betrayal came rushing back. Why did he get to be all happy and in love? He was the one who cheated. Why were you the one who was suffering from the consequences? It wasn't fair.

you say 'I don't understand' and I say I know you don't, we thought a cure would come through in time now I fear it won't

It had been a few weeks since you had last seen or spoken to Lando. To be fair, you had been busy with your own work and hadn't really even managed to make time for anything else. Still, knowing the possibility of running into him during the Silverstone GP was enough to make you feel sick.

Your absence at the races hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of grid. They had all already gotten used to your presence at almost every GP and now that you weren't there, it felt like something was missing.

So, one night as you had been at home, making yourself dinner after a long day at work, you were surprised to see Charles text you. He had started to worry about your absence and wanted to know if everything was alright and if you were going to make an appearance at the British race during the weekend.

Maybe Lando hasn't told anyone about your shared night together, you thought, maybe he regrets what happened.

The two of you ended up calling, finding it easier to speak over the phone rather than text, racking up an impressive few hour long phone call. Which, much to your dismay, had ended with you promising to go to Silverstone the following weekend. Charles, however in hopes of making the appearance easier for you, had promised that you could stay at the Ferrari Garage the whole time. Making it less likely for you to see or run into Lando, or his girlfriend for that matter.

And though the idea of going to Silverstone wasn't all that high on your list of things to look forward to, you still felt glad after talking to Charles. It felt good to know that there was someone willing to listen to you talk about your feelings regarding Lando. Charles seemed to understand and you were thankful for that.

You hated to admit it but it had started to feel like Lando wasn't really understanding where you were coming from. The ball had started rolling when you ended up sleeping together and it felt like Lando left you all alone in that situation.

There used to nothing that could come between the two of you. Now? Now it felt so tiring to try to make things right. Your feelings regarding everything were nothing but an imposition to Lando.

You had done all that you could. You tried to make amends, to talk to him about what had happened. But he wasn't fighting on the same side with you anymore - he was behind the enemy lines. And he was losing you.

and part of me wants to walk away 'till you really listen, i'd hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different, 'cause part of me wants you back but i know it won't work like that, huh?

It was a sunny day in Silverstone. You were walking around the paddock, making your way to the Ferrari garage where Charles was probably already waiting for you.

"Hey," a familiar voice said behind you. You froze in your tracks for a moment before turning around to see Lando. You didn't know what to say or how to react so you just stood there, dumbfouned.

"It's been a while, huh?" Lando tried his best to mask the guilt he was feeling with a small chuckle but wasn't sure he managed. He took a step closer to you as you took a step back at the same time. "Look, y/n, I'm really sorry-"

You cut him off before he could say anything more. "Don't apologize, Lando, please. It's been hard enough as it was. There is no need to make matters worse."

To be honest, you were surprised by your own words but they were all true. It had been hard knowing Lando was out there somewhere living his life without you. These last few weeks had felt like you were stuck, unable to move on. Maybe that's what it's like losing your bestfriend, you had thought.

"Make matters worse- Y/n, what are you on about?" Lando's words cut through like a knife, making it seem like this was all your fault. "I wanted to apologize for ignoring you but it seems like it's not me who should be apologizing right now."

Anger was boiling inside of you. You couldn't believe Lando's arrogance. And though, you didn't want to cause a scene, you couldn't just stand there in silence.

"I'm not sure what dreamland you're living in but if I remember correctly we both agreed to do what we did the night of your birthday party. So, you can't put the blame all on me." Silence. You thought about your words - the ones you had just said and the ones you were about to say. "I knew it was a mistake but I didn't wanna believe you would think that, too, cause I love you and I thought that maybe you'd feel the same way."

Lando looked unsure. Like he didn't exactly know what you meant. Of course he loved you too, you were his best friend and had been since the two of you were kids. That hadn't changed during recent time apart and Lando was certain it would never change.

But then it clicked and he suddenly understood it all too well. Guilt rushing to him as he realized his mistake. He had, more or less, accidentally led you on.

He never meant to hurt you but that night and morning after felt like a blur to him. He was afraid and just bolted before you woke up. Why he didn't answer all those times you tried to call and text, he couldn't provide an answer for. He felt bad and once enough time had passed, it was harder and harder to make things right.

"I didn't come here to ruin your day so I'll just get going," you had started to walk away now but still called out to him with your back turned to him, "have a great rest of your life, you dickhead."

Lando stayed still for a moment, processing your words. Did you really mean that? Did you really not want to see him anymore? Have anything do with him? Had he really lost his friend, his best friend, over something so stupid?

If only Lando could go back in time, he'd make things right.

and I fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit whole, long story short it was the wrong time//pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest cliff, long story short it was the wrong guy

The summer break had started. And after the mess at Silverstone, you and Charles had grown closer. Though, you had always been friends, now that Lando was out of the picture, Charles and you spent even more time together.

He had taken Lando's place in your life. The two of you going out to dinner, having movie nights and just all around spending time together.

At first it was all platonic. Neither of you really looking for anything more than just friends to share the ups and downs of life with. But something happened and you two started dating. Agreeing to take things slow in order to avoid a catastrophe.

It was strange for a while but it felt nice to have someone you share everything with now that Lando wasn't that person for you anymore. You started to feel happier each day and it was all because of Charles.

The thought of Lando still stung whenever it crossed your mind. It wasn't easy to leave him behind. You had grown so accustomed to him being there for you through thick and thin. And sometimes it felt almost like the ultimate betrayel, replacing him with Charles. But you made your peace with it just as Lando had made his when he chose to walk away that one morning.

so we could call it even, you could call me 'babe' for the weekend, 'tis the damn season, write this down

It felt like a bad dream when Charles told you. A couple of guys from the grid had made plans for a little get-together over the summer. And though usually you'd be excited to spend time with everyone, now you dreaded it.

"We don't have to go," Charles said reassuringly when he saw the look on your face. "Or I can go alone, whatever's fine with you." He was so sweet and kind and considerate, and you felt bad about not wanting to go.

The two of you had managed to keep your relationship sort of private so far but you had talked about the possibility of going more public. With only a few of your closest friends aware of your situation so far, you figured this was a great way to catch everyone up.

So, with slightly gritted teeth, you agreed to go with Charles to the get-together. Nothing bad could happen anyway, right? You were grown ups. You and Lando could handle being in the same room together. Besides, you had both moved on. Maybe this could be a good time to try to reconnect with a certain, and once very dear, old friend.

The night went on quite nicely. Everyone was so happy to be there, to see you. Everyone but Lando. The second you got there, you could see something was bothering him. You tried to ignore it, deciding it was for the best. You told yourself he could come talk to you if he wanted to.

You were outside the venue, looking out at the sea, admiring the view. You heard someone walk over and take a stand next to you. You didn't bother to look, you knew who it was.

"I'm happy for you," Lando said sheepishly.

"Are you?" You didn't mean for it sound so accusing and you hoped Lando didn't pick up on it. You didn't want to fight anymore. If anything, you wanted your friend back.

"Look, I'm trying my best here."

"I know. Me too. I'm sorry," you offered with a small smile.

Lando smiled back at you. The two of you exchanged apologizies, going back and forth with who to blame for your fall out. It came to an end when you finally agreed it was probably just as much both of your fault.

You felt happy for the first time in what felt like forever. Though you were happy with Charles, this was different. You felt like maybe you finally had your friend back.

"I broke up with her," Lando said after a moment of silence.

You walked closer to him, hesitating for a while before you pulled him in for a hug. He didn't have to say how he felt, you knew.

"Do you remember when we were like 5 or 6 and you tried to make me feel better after I found out that Brad from school didn't like me back? I was heartbroken."

Memories pulled you back. You came home from school, tears in your eyes as Lando trailed behind you. He was calling your name but you ignored him. So he ran after you, catching you just as you were about to walk inside.

"And I promised that when we grew up, I'd marry you and love you so much that you'd forget about stupid Brad," he said finishing your trip down memory lane. A chuckle escaped his lips as he pulled away from the hug.

"Yeah," you started, "I guess if things had been different..."

Something stopped you from finishing your thought. But Lando knew what you meant without you even saying it. There was a sting in his chest. He had almost lost you and he didn't like the feeling. He didn't want to risk doing something that would end with you walking away from his life completely. Even though deep down he had started to feel like being friends wasn't enough anymore.

Or maybe it never had been.

"There you are," Charles called out to you. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

You took a step back from Lando, startled at the sight of Charles. You had almost forgotten about him.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," you hurried, "I just needed to get some air."

Lando was hovering by your side as Charles' gaze flicked between the two of you. He had a knowing smile on his face. He was happy to see you two getting along. It had pained Charles to hear you talk about Lando. Charles knew how close you were and he hated seeing you and Lando in pain.

It was awkward for a moment. None of you saying or doing anything until Lando broke the silence.

"I should get going," he offered you a small smile and patted Charles on the shoulder as he walked past him, leaving you and Charles alone.

Charles walked over to you and you extended your arms to pull him in for a hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head. The two of you exchanged a few words about the night before you walked back inside.

do you remember, happy together, I do, don't you? // thought you'd hate me but instead you called and said I miss you, I caught it

You had left Monaco to visit your parents back at home in London before you, too, had to get back to work.

You didn't know it but Lando was in London as well. He had a good relationship with your parents, having spent most of his childhood with them almost as much as his own parents. So, one night as you were getting ready for bed, you heard a knock.

"I'll get it," you called out to your parents as you made your way to the front door.

Lando stood there with a smile on his face. "Hi," was all he said as he couldn't help but burst into a laugh as he saw your confused look.

"What- What are you doing here?" You turned to look behind you before you took a step forward, closing the front door quietly. You were happy to see Lando though you certainly weren't expecting him to show up unannounced.

He gave you a shrug, "I heard you were here and I wanted to see you before the break ended."

Lando could see you weren't exactly happy with his explanation but he didn't care. He didn't want to wait any longer. He wanted to tell you how he felt about you. About everything. This was his grand romantic gesture.

The two of you ended up sitting on your parent's front porch for hours. Talking about everything that had happened over the summer, the conversation at first being very casual.

"Look, y/n, I-" Lando started but couldn't find the words. He took a deep breath, hoping to find courage with the inhale. "Okay, here goes-

After what happened that one night, I was a mess. I didn't know what was right so I just ignored you. And then I saw you with Charles and you seemed so happy and then we talked and I-

I love you, y/n, and not just a friend. And I know you're with Charles and I don't wanna come between you but I just can't not tell you how I feel. I already messed up once by not telling you so I just can't not say this right now."

Silence filled the air. You kept your eyes fixated on Lando but didn't say anything. You barely dared to breathe, afraid it might cause an explosion.

After what felt like an eternity for Lando, you got up from your spot. A fear crept down Lando's spine. This was it, he thought, now he lost you for good.

"I should head to bed, I have to get up early tomorrow," was all you could say. Thoughts spinning in your head, you were sure you wouldn't be able to get any sleep but you were certain you couldn't sit here any longer.

Lando got up as well and just stood there in silence as he watched you make your way inside.

"Goodnight, Lando."

With that, the door closed right in front of him and he could feel his life shattering into a million little pieces.

and i guess we fell apart in the usual way and the story's got dust on every page but sometimes i wonder how you think about it now and i see your face in every crowd

The sun was setting over the horizon. It was warm and the sky was painted in a beautiful color. It was a perfect ending for a perfect day.

You had your arm wrapped around Charles' as your head rested on his shoulder. The two of you walking down the streets of Monaco after having a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant.

You were happy but there was an unexplainable sense sneaking in slowly. It felt like a fire that was burning you inside out that started after you and Lando saw each during the grid get-together. And it kept getting worse and worse, your secret rendezvous in London not helping.

Charles came to a sudden stop. He had his gaze fixated on you, a look of concern plastered across his face. You thought maybe he had said something but when you asked, he just stood there quietly now holding both of your hands in his.

"Y/n, I've really enjoyed this time we've spent together," Charles started and you knew where this was going.

"I really care about you and like you, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't change a thing that has happened. But I can see how Lando looks at you and how you look at him."

Charles let go of your hands and there was an empty feeling left. You tried to say something but Charles pulled in for a hug.

"I don't wanna stand in between you and Lando, y/n. And I'm not angry or sad. I want what's best for you."

You understood where this was coming from. And surprisingly, you didn't feel sad, either. Your time with Charles had just ran its course. There was no bad blood between the two of you. Surely, you could stay friends after all this.

The two of you pulled away from your hug. Charles had a small smile on his lips that you reciprocated. Everything was okay.

The rest of your evening was spent walking around the streets aimlessly. Neither of you wanting to let go of these final moments together as something more than just friends but less than lovers before you ultimately had to.

small talk, he drives, coffee at midnight, the light reflects the chain on your neck, he says look up and your shoulders brush, no proof, one touch but you felt enough // you are in love, true love

The rain was pouring down with force and you were soaking wet. There was a tenseness in you as you stood outside Lando's apartment shivering, wondering if you should knock.

The door in front of you opened suddenly and you stood face to face with Lando. This time, the surprise was evident on his face as a small smile crept on yours.

"Hi," you said carefully, as if inspecting the situation.

It was getting cold in your drenched clothes and you were starting to shiver. Lando noticed that and rushed to pull you inside. He didn't want you to catch a cold, though he still didn't have any idea as to why were standing outside his apartment in the first place.

"Come on," he said, not wanting to push things but instead allowing you to say whatever you wanted on your own terms whenever you were ready. "Let's get you some dry clothes."

You followed Lando through his home, taking in your surroundings as if it was your first time visiting. As if you hadn't once spent almost half of your time here, with or without Lando. It felt strange to be back but it also felt like coming home.

Lando rummaged through his closet. You were fidgeting with your hands, nerves building up with each second.

"Here," Lando threw you pieces of clothing, "try these."

You caught them and stared at the clothes in your hands.

"You can go change in the bathroom if-" Lando started but you cut him off.

"I love you," was all you said before taking a deep breath. "I love you and I don't mean that as just a friend. I've loved you for you so long now and I hope I'm not too late in telling you this."

Silence filled the space. There was a gap between you and Lando but it soon closed as Lando rushed over to you, pulling you in for a kiss. His hands cupped your face and you relaxed into the warm feeling.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that," he said as he pulled away, his hands still on your cheeks.

A wide smile spread on your lips as you looked in to Lando's eyes. It felt like a dream to be standing here, after all this time and all that hardship it took you to get to this point. But you were happy. You both were happy. And in love.

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #writingln4 #writing itsnicetohaveafriend

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lazycats-stuff · 9 months

Note

Can u make a part two to the werewolf fic u made it was soo good ! and i would like to see where it leads :)

If it's the COD werewolf, sure thing. Also, here is my favorite Scot. Is it just me or is a Scottish accent just so... Well, it's my favorite. PART 1

Summary: (Y/N) deals with the fact that he is a werewolf.

Warnings: missions, violence, death and all the stuff that goes with the COD, human experiments

It has been a couple of weeks since (Y/N) turned into a werewolf. He still wasn't used to his senses and he is strength, but he was working on it. The team was very supportive of him and tried to help him in their own ways.

He still wasn't cleared to go on any missions, but he didn't mind it. It was nice to have some down time for himself. He spent time resting, working on little things and on the weekends he would go off the base.

It was a nice change of pace. The team still went on missions and it was to be alone, but he did miss them. They talked over the phone a few times, but those were brief conversations.

He always wanted to have everyone together. That was one of the things that worried him when he started feeling that. It wasn't something he thought about before. It was nice to have the team together, but it wasn't this strong.

(Y/N) thought it was his wolf side. Either way, he liked it when the team was here on base. Ghost was his favorite. There were times when he just had to change into a werewolf and Ghost had a bed big enough for the both of them.

Soap was a little bit afraid due to his fear of the dogs, but he liked (Y/N). The werewolf knew that and he respected Soap's boundaries. If he was in his werewolf form, he was far away from Soap. But Soap was slowly getting over his fear.

Gaz was the one who liked the wolf form the most. Gaz is a dog lover and if they had the time, in secrecy of course, he would play with (Y/N). Fetch, running, whatever came to mind.

Price and Ghost are like those dads that are like, he is not allowed on the couch, but they end up on the couch anyway. And he kind of became a therapy dog for Ghost. More so, he became a therapy dog for the entire team.

All in all, it was nice.

(Y/N) was buzzing excitement. He was finally clear to go on missions! He was just so excited! He hugged Price when he gave him the news. Price just patted him awkwardly on the back. The team celebrated with some alcohol.

" We missed you. " Gaz said as they were in the bar.

" I know you did! You missed my sarcasm! Admit it! " (Y/N) said, turning to look at the others. Ghost didn't react and the others just sighed.

" I swear to God, I will bench you (L/N). " Price said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

" You won't. You missed me a lot. " (Y/N) said, laughing at the sigh he got in return.

" Well, we have some news. You know that target, in Al Mazrah? " Price started, watching (Y/N)'s reaction. (Y/N) nodded, it was a terrorist cell that they destroyed.

" Well, they are back at it. And the last target? They had connections with him and we think that they are doing some sort of experiments on people. And they might have been responsible to that wolf that bit you. "

(Y/N)'s funny and happy demeanor turned sour. He looked down at his drink and frowned.

" So, we have a location, but it isn't confirmed just yet. We have to waiting another day to get it, but we believe that this is it. I still don't get why they are still alive... Bastards. " Price said, cursing to himself.

" Tomorrow we will get the location and you can go with us. " Price said, making (Y/N) nod. So the wolf that bit him was probably an experiment.

" You alright? " Ghost asked in his gruff voice.

" Not really. I'm thinking about that wolf that bit me. He was probably an experiment too. " (Y/N) said, gripping his forearms tightly. He tried not to think about the fact that he was lucky.

Price just patted his back in solidary and comfort. John also thought about it, just how lucky (Y/N) was. Or unlucky depending on your point of view.

" Well, we are going to shut them down, once and for all. " Johnny said, clearly trying to bring more positive environment to this booth.

" I wish I had you enthusiasm Johnny. I really do. " (Y/N) said thoughtfully, taking a last sip of his whiskey.

Silence fell down across the booth. It was obvious that (Y/N) was shaken by the fact that there were human experiments. Maybe that wolf that bit him was free now.

" Well, lets go back to the base. We need to make sure we are rested." Price said, trying to lift the mood up.

It was too late.

(Y/N) and the others waiting to get land. All of them geared up, armed to the tooth. (Y/N) wasn't sure how to feel about this. On one hand, they need to be stopped. But at the same time, what are they going to find?

Will he have to shift and kill someone as a wolf? He looked down at his lap for a moment, clenching his fists. It was going to be fine. The team was here and they were going to help.

It was going to be fine.

The helicopter stopped and the team stepped out. Alaska was fricking cold and he just wanted to get warm. They had a plan and they were going to stick to it.

(Y/N) used his super senses to stop his team.

" I hear two of them in there. " (Y/N) whispered, listening more. " The lab is underground and one of them have the code to enter it. " (Y/N) said, cocking his rifle.

" We need them alive them. " Ghost said, getting ready to get in.

" Yup. " (Y/N) said, watching as Ghost kicked the door in.

Ghost was quick to take them down, but keep them alive.

" I need a code for the lab underground. And I will leave your hands hands attached to your bodies. " Ghost said, grabbing the arms of the guards. After some more pressure, they gave it up.

(Y/N) punched it in and he when he entered, he nearly threw up. He watched people under the sedation and there were people who were mutated, but not fully... They looked like they were mistakes.

(Y/N) couldn't go on.

" (L/N), what is going on? " Price asked, worried about his youngest member.

" I can't go on. I feel sick. " (Y/N) said, moving back to lean on the wall.

" I will call Laswell to clean this up. " Price said, patting (Y/N)'s shoulder.

(Y/N) nodded. He will really kill them.

" Now we have evidence to put them behind bars... We should have killed them off. " Soap growled, watching the people. Ghost and Gaz checked out the rest of the lab. It was all clear.

" Is he okay? " Gaz asked.

" I'm fine Gaz. I'm just... I don't know. It's weird to see all of this. " (Y/N) said.

" I know. We are going to help them out. " Gaz said, patting (Y/N)'s shoulder.

(Y/N) knows that. But maybe death is better thing for them. (Y/N) shook his head. No, that's not a great mindset to have. They will help them.

#john price x male reader #johnny soap mactavish x male reader #ghost x male reader #simon riley x male reader #gaz x male reader #modern warefare 2 x male reader #modern warefare ii

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imagine-darksiders · 4 months

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart.

Chapter 23 - Evading Sunrise.

Summary: Who better to know what a human needs than one who used to be human themselves?

[I'm still alive! Woo! Just overwrought! I'm playing in a sold-out show from Jan 16th and rehearsals have been 1900 to 2300 every night, bar the weekend, so my writing time is greatly diminished. I've also recently come into the family business, which isn't what I thought I'd be doing with my life, but hey-ho, I haven't got any other option, so I'm also bogged down with learning that whole setup. These little moments where I can write and read all your kind, encouraging comments are becoming more and more precious to me. xxx]

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There is a kindness that the Universe could easily grant you, were it so inclined. Just a small thing, effortless even, hardly a difficult feat for the Powers that be, if They had so much as a shred of empathy.

The Universe has taken much from you, and were it a little kinder, it would take one last thing.

… It would take your ability to dream.

Death knows all too well that for as long as humans have been unwitting players on the cosmic chess board, they’ve been left to stand utterly alone, un-helped and unacknowledged by an indifferent Creator.

Why should you be the exception?

Why should you be granted a tiny mercy by the very Being who gave you a mind to dream with in the first place?

It just seems an unnecessary cruelty, the Horseman supposes, that your own biology should stand in the way of your respite.

It’s been several, long hours since you rolled over and eloped into the un-waking world, and Death has only moved as far as the door, leaning his weight back against the bone-dry wood with an air of resignation that his journey is to be paused until sunrise, at the very earliest. No matter… There’s little sense facing the Chancellor’s dreaded ‘Champion’ in the dark, after all.

You might have smirked and called him paranoid about the rigid stance he’s taken in front of the room’s only entrance, but the soft yet not-so-silent footfalls that keep approaching the door reaffirm his decision.

He doesn’t know if it’s the Blademaster sniffing about or some other undead who has come to gawk at the living, breathing human in their midst, but there’s something undoubtedly amusing about feeling wood push against his spine for a few seconds before the presence on the other side meets the resistance of a Horseman’s immoveable body weight.

What follows is the distinct sound of those same footsteps hurrying off down the corridor, making every attempt to be stealthy, but failing miserably.

It would be less amusing if any of their attempts were to wake you up. In fact, the only reason Death hasn’t ripped the door open and threatened to skewer the nosy stranger is currently sound asleep just a few feet away from whatever ruckus that would cause.

Or you were sound asleep. At least until a few minutes ago.

Death’s forefingers tap aimlessly against his bicep as he frowns down at your face. You’ve scrunched your features up into a tight grimace, nose wrinkling and the corners of your mouth twisted south towards your chin.

You’re still asleep. Just not soundly.

The pitiable whimpers you’ve been uttering for a while now indicate a troubled mind, though the Horseman can’t say he’s surprised. It’s disappointing, to be sure. He’d have thought you’d be far too exhausted to be plagued by dreams tonight, yet evidently, you’re not that fortunate. Which is a crying shame, because while Death doesn’t believe in luck per-se, he thinks that if such a thing were to exist, you’re more than overdue.

“Hmm, mnn,” you murmur through closed lips, tossing your head to the right.

Above you on the headboard, Dust retrieves his beak from under an ebony wing and cocks a gaze at you, crooning out a soft, inquiring noise from his throat.

“Shhh,” Death breathes, earning a sleepy glare from the crow, though he does at least fall silent, contenting himself to simply watch as you throw a hand out to one side and clench your fist around an invisible force.

“….Mmn, eye…,” you mutter through slightly parted lips.

‘Eye?’ Death’s brow knots under his mask, yet he isn’t left wondering for long.

“… Eideard?” you suddenly croak, “… C’m’back!”

Ah… So that’s where your head is at.

Lowering his eyes to the ratty blanket, Death releases a sigh that’s been building in his chest for a few minutes now.

Your legs have been steadily working to kick the covers off the bed, never settling, as if you’re trying to run from something.

The clack of a beak draws the Horseman’s gaze once again to Dust, who now has a rather expectant look aimed his way.

Death can’t help but be reminded of that night in Tri Stone, when he’d remained stolidly outside on the bench whilst you stifled your sobs in the Makers’ Forge.

He recalls that Dust had been rather scathing about his inaction. The Horseman hadn’t cared for the bird’s judgement then, and he’s even less appreciative now.

What is he supposed to do? Wake you? At least if you’re dreaming, you’re getting some rest.

Sleep, he’s learned, is something that’s essential to a human’s sustained survival.

Not for the first time, he considers the benefits of having an empty chest, hardened and calcified through centuries of existing in an indifferent universe.

It means he has nothing to steel when you suddenly fling yourself over onto your side with your mouth hanging open, releasing a short, hitching sob that catches in your throat, and an arm that stretches out towards something unseen by the Horseman, your fingers spreading rigidly until they quake with the strain.

… The gentling of Death’s expression goes unnoticed, even by him.

He’s nearly shocked when his boot slides forwards ever so slightly, scraping across the floorboards as if to carry him away from the door and towards you.

Pausing, he cocks a brow down at his own leg, half expecting it to explain itself.

What he doesn’t expect – but perhaps should have – is the loud and jarring gasp that suddenly floods into the little human on the bed with the frantic desperation of one who’s been underwater for far too long, and you’ve only just managed to reach the surface to take a breath before your lungs collapse.

Death’s eyes flick towards you just in time to witness your silhouette lurching up off the mattress, a garbled shout tumbling from your lips as you clutch feverishly at your chest.

“Karn!?” you blurt out, whipping your head back and forth to search through the darkness of Draven’s quarters for a maker who isn’t there.

It would be easy for Death to remain still and silent, to wait until whatever grasp your nightmare still has on you to finally slip loose on its own… He needn’t step in.

It would be easy…

“…Hhh…” Grousing silently to himself, the Horseman pushes away from the door and takes a decisive step towards you before he can begin to overthink his actions.

“Y/n,” he mutters, not loud enough to be startling, but just loud enough to catch your attention.

Even still, you flinch, whirling your torso in his direction and letting your hazy eyes land on the pale, ghostly mask looming above you in the dark.

For several seconds, you merely stare up at Death, the hand on your chest crumpling your shirt as you gather the flimsy fabric into a tight fist.

Death doesn’t elect to break the silence again. After another moment or two of watching you gulp down another lungful of stale air, his patience pays off, and you swallow thickly, croaking, “Death?”

The Horseman’s chin dips down. “Yes.”

“Is… Karn here?” Your voice sounds so fragile, poisoned by a grain of hope.

Going very still, Death allows a beat to pass, giving himself time to think of an answer.

Perhaps… you think you’re still in a dream.

Quietly, he offers a concise response, one that hopefully doesn’t cause you any more distress whilst bringing you further out of the idea that this isn’t real. “Karn…” he begins, “…remained in the Forge Lands.”

He watches you physically deflate. Not from relief though. Relief doesn’t douse the sleepy kindling of hope that had momentarily lit the contours of your face.

Solemn, a little more awake, you slowly ask, “Is… Eideard…. Is he…?”

“… Gone,” is Death’s only reply.

A breath shudders out of you as you let your gaze drift down to your fingers, twining over themselves in twists and knots. “Oh…” you breathe, “I… thought I…” But your sentence trails off before you can finish it.

So, Death says it for you. “You thought you saw him,” he ventures, “In a dream.”

And with that, whatever strings have been holding you taut are promptly cut, sending you flopping back onto Draven’s mattress with a sorrowful ‘whump,’ still very much awake and positively quaking hard enough to cause the wooden bed frame to shudder in tandem.

That’s the thing about dreams, Death supposes, after a point, they’re the perfect nesting ground for ghosts.

His brother, Strife, would confide in him, many eons ago, that he could still see the faces of their fallen brethren behind his eyelids whenever he tried to rest. Death had only told him that it would pass, if given the time to. He hadn’t the gall to tell Strife that he too could see those same, hateful eyes and blood-filled mouths just as clearly.

Eideard isn’t the only person you’ve lost. He’s said it before, but it bears repeating; you’ve also lost your family, your friends and every other human on Earth.

Your dreams, much like Death’s, are full of ghosts.

Drawing your hands up towards your face, you press the heel of each palm to your eyelids and grind down hard until a kaleidoscope of colour sparks to life across your vision, not unlike fireworks blooming across a cold, November sky.

Shakily, you blow out a dry, unsteady whoosh of air and groan, “Fuck…”

Death purses his lips, privately concurring with your brief assessment of the situation.

Then, in a motion that’s steeped in tiredness, you drag your focus back over to the Horseman, rolling your head to the side and adding, “You’re still here…”

“Yes, I’m still here,” he utters, quiet as a breath, only to balk at the dulcet quality in his tone. Clearing his throat to rid it of the uninvited tenderness, he promptly tacks on, “I told you; someone has to keep an eye on Dust.”

Damp-cheeked, you crane your neck back to send an upside-down glance at the crow roosting on the headboard above you.

A single, glossy eyeball stares back.

You’re fairly confident that Dust hasn’t done a damn thing to warrant any of Death’s baseless assumptions.

With your gaze still locked on the bird, you sigh, “You two can go, if you want to…”

At that, the Horseman knows he’s going to refuse before he even gives you a verbal response.

This isn’t the first time you’ve offered him an ‘out,’ a convenient excuse for him to duck from the room and escape the burden of bearing witness to your downward spiral.

You’re asking, in as quiet a hint as you can manage, for the privacy to cry without an audience.

… If it weren’t for the mysterious footsteps padding about outside…

“It would be in your best interest for me to stay,” he offers, earning a weary sigh from your side of the room, as if you’ve by now figured it would never be that easy to get rid of him.

Already, his keen eyes have picked out the slightest gleam of tears gathering behind your lashes. The next breath you try to draw in sticks to the back of your throat, yet before your face can crumple completely, you roll yourself over onto your opposite side, facing the wall – deliberately angling your body away from the Horseman, who watches on in silence as you hike your shoulders up towards your ears.

Drawing his brows together underneath the mask, Death glides silently closer to your bed and peers down at the human-shaped lump quivering under the covers.

All is quiet for a time, until at last…

“… I’m sorry.” Your words seep out of you in a thick, watery whisper. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

‘You didn’t sign up for me,’ goes unspoken, but somehow the idea still hangs between you both like cold, falling snow.

It seems an odd thing to say, Death muses, considering that in a sense, he did sign up for this. Hell, he all but stamped his signature on that contract when he carried you through the portal to the Crowfather’s realm.

“Well… Neither did you…” he returns truthfully as he turns around and sinks onto the mattress at the foot of the bed, draping each forearm over a knee. The old wood doesn’t even creak as he settles down, nor does the straw bend beneath his illogical weight, much like the desert sand hadn’t swallowed him up to his calves as it had yours.

He hears the blanket rustle behind him as you twist your neck around to spare him a glance over your shoulder. If you’re at all shocked to find him suddenly sitting so close to you, you’re either too tired or too polite to say a word about it.

So, you turn back to the wall without comment, and although you attempt to bring a hand up to press a sweat-slicked palm across your mouth, such a meagre covering of skin isn’t enough to contain the grief that starts to pour out of you.

But just as you’d offered Death the unquestioned freedom to seek vicinity to you, the Horseman doesn’t try to interrupt or diminish this sombre moment with talk or awkward attempts at comfort.

It stirs a memory in him, of a much younger Nephilim, trudging through a silent, windswept battlefield alongside the only other three who had escaped the Battle for Eden. Not a word was said between them as they left the dead behind, but Death had offered them proximity as well. They said nothing of it, they hadn’t even accused him of hovering. There was an unspoken understanding, in that instant, one that passed silently between all four of them; Death would be there if they needed him.

With a slow blink, the memory fades, and he’s left frowning gently at the dull, rotten wood of the wall adjacent to your bed.

You’re an intelligent human… He wonders if you’ll be able to infer what he’s doing by sitting at the edge of your bed. Death may be many things, but he is not cheerful by nature, and cannot thusly cause cheer in others. He can only sit. And wait. Listening, watching, offering freedom from interference, both from himself and others who would seek to disturb you now when you need to grieve.

Dust, predictably, affords your need for privacy about as much consideration as could be expected from a bird. That is, none whatsoever.

A sleepy caw is all the warning both you and Death receive before the crow hops down off the headboard and lands on your pillow with a soft rustle of feathers.

Of course, you flinch, but Dust – undeterred – simply invites himself into the space between you and the wall, strutting surefootedly over the rumpled blankets until he reaches your chest.

Exasperated, Death opens his mouth and is about to openly scold the crow when Dust turns himself about until the tip of his sharp, grey beak is pointed down at your sombre face.

If you’re at all worried about having it so close to your eyeballs, you don’t show it, though Death knows the corvid well enough to recognise that Dust would never hurt his new human friend who coddles and praises him like it’s going out of fashion.

Birds…

“H-hey,” you warble miserably, swiping at your eyes with the back of a wrist and trying to pluck up the willpower to give a tear-blurred Dust your most convincing smile, “Hey, boy. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

In response, the crow cocks his head at you, and follows up with a gentle croon that raises the small, downy feathers on his throat. Then, without bothering to give any sort of warning as to his intentions, Dust gives his beak a single clack and stretches out his neck, gathering up a few strands of hair around your forehead and dragging them through his beak as if to smooth them into place.

Death almost slaps a palm to his mask.

You can’t help yourself. A wet giggle blurts out of you, momentarily disrupting Dust’s ministrations. He croaks down at you flatly before returning to his task of taking your hair and grooming it with a gentle beak.

“Dust!” you blubber out another laugh, reaching up to try and dissuade the crow by pushing your hand into his feathered breast. For your trouble, he pulls away and administers a soft nip to your knuckle, barely strong enough for you to feel it.

Offering him a watery smile, you prop yourself up onto an elbow, and in one, smooth motion, you raise your free arm and scoop the bird against your chest, burying your nose into the ebony plumage right between his wings. He’s large, far larger than any crow you’ve ever seen on Earth, so it’s more akin to hugging a small dog than any kind of corvid….

Wow… You miss dogs…

As if he can sense your sudden spike of anguish for a species who was likely wiped out alongside your own, the crow nuzzles his head under your chin, tailfeathers flicking back and forth several times as he contents himself with his new position.

Death’s brows shoot up his forehead at the display, wondering how he could have missed the moment you and his crow forged this bond without him even noticing. Was it during the brief few hours when Absalom pulled him into the Tree of Life?

Or perhaps it was always there, and he just hasn’t been paying attention.

“Of all the crows I could have been saddled with,” he gripes under his breath, aiming a half-hearted scowl at the little he can see of Dust’s beak poking out over your shoulder, “It would be the one without a single ounce of pride.”

“Oh, leave him alone,” you sniff, your voice muffled by sleek, black feathers, “He’s trying to cheer me up.”

The Horseman grumbles something to himself, then raises his voice to huff, “He has to be good for something, I suppose.”

When you don’t reply beyond giving a click of your tongue, Death hesitates, his eyes roaming in every direction except for your face as he clears his throat and asks, “Is it… ah, working?”

There’s a speculative pause, interspersed with the odd sniffle as you take a moment to calm yourself down and recover from the embarrassment of once again crying in front of the sepulchral Death.

At last, you take in a deep, weary breath and pull your nose from Dust’s back, gazing warmly down at the crow. “Yeah,” you decide with a small nod as he pulls his beak from under your chin and peers back at you, “Yeah, it’s working.”

If only a little, but sometimes a little is just enough.

Dust’s head swings around to peer at Death over your shoulder, smugger than a bird has any business being.

The heartache of waking up to a world without Eideard in it is just as fresh as the heartache you feel when you open your eyes and remember your world is gone. That sort of grief, unquantifiable, is hard to shift by the efforts of one, friendly crow, no matter how noble his intentions.

But for Dust’s sake, you try to shoulder the sorrow a touch more easily, even going so far as to sit up properly, still holding the bird to your chest and giving him a gentle squeeze. It’s a word of thanks, silent but poignant. Slowly, you place the crow down on the mattress beside you.

This time it’s your turn to clear your throat. Scrubbing tiredly at your eyes, you untuck your legs from the scratchy blanket and roll them over the side of the bed, pulling yourself forwards until you’re sitting beside Death, hands clasped daintily in your lap.

Amber eyes flick sideways and find in the gloom that your cheeks are still damp and blotchy from shedding so many tears.

Behind you, Dust flutters back up onto the headboard, head held high and proud, pleased with himself for a job well-done, and feeling he’s absolutely deserved another nap.

You breathe a sigh, holding it in your lungs and then blowing it all out again, glad to hear that it’s devoid of further tremors. “So… I don’t suppose we can pretend you didn’t hear any of that?”

Death half turns his torso towards you and replies, “Any of what?”

Without thought, you smile appreciatively and lean across the bed, giving the Horseman’s thigh a companionable pat. “Good man.”

It seems as soon as you touch him, you’re pulling away again, the moment passing too quickly for you to feel the way his leg jumps underneath your palm.

Death’s eyes are wide beneath his mask and affixed to the spot on his thigh you’d just touched without ceremony, without a single remark, like it was an entirely normal thing to do.

Certainly, you’ve touched Death before, and he’s touched you out of necessity, mostly. But here, in this dingy room belonging to an undead, the Nephilim takes particular note of the casual gesture, and he’s once again reminded of who and what he is, and what an outlier you are to touch the Reaper without fear.

Is that all it takes? Pretending he hadn’t heard you pour your grief out onto a stranger’s pillow makes him a good man?

Is that… how you see him…?

No. It was just another throwaway comment, meant to lighten the solemn mood that had taken hold of the room.

For a distracted moment, Death wonders if he can really feel the warmth of your skin through the leather of his trousers, or if it’s just a figment of his imagination. Whatever it is, it robs him of any witty remarks that might slip out to disrupt this tender moment.

A good man…

“You should try going back to sleep,” he offers absently, tearing his eyes off his leg to look down at you. The imagined warmth in his thigh has travelled to his chest, which is odd, given that you didn’t lay your hand anywhere near it.

Heaving a sigh, you ask, “How long do you think until sunrise?”

“Mm, at least another several Earth hours,” he says, “Plenty of time still to rest.”

Your fingers clench into fists around the blanket beneath you. “Plenty of time to dream…”

The old Nephilim’s mask turns to face you properly, eyes of liquid gold and sunset orange illuminating the darkness of his sockets. “Dreams cannot hurt you,” he says with conviction, partly because he knows they can’t, and partly because nothing, not even a nightmare could hurt you with a Horseman keeping watch.

“But they can make you sad…” you point out.

Hesitating, he has to take a second to remember that sadness can be potent enough to hurt a human. “I suppose they can,” he concedes reluctantly.

“That hurts, sometimes,” you whisper, drawing your knees up onto the bed and folding your arms around them, clinging tightly, eyes downcast to the floor, “Waking up and realising the people in them aren’t here anymore.”

Shifting his weight to prop a hand on one knee, he leans forwards so that he can meet your faraway gaze. “That pain will fade, given time,” he offers, echoing a conversation eons past.

After a second, your eyes slide sideways and align with his, and he can’t deny the glimmer of triumph that raises his chin at the sight of your gentle smile.

“I hope you’re right, Death,” you reply, “I really do.”

“You’ll find I’m not often wrong twice in as many days.” He’s referring to his… miscalculation with the heart stones and the Guardian, of course.

Did that really only happen yesterday?

“Cocky,” you snort, swiping a finger under the still damp corner of your eye, “Nice to know great, big Horsemen can make mistakes too though.”

“Is it?” he scoffs. He’d have thought it’d be daunting that the Nephilim whose charge you find yourself under isn’t actually as infallible as he’d like to claim.

“Yeah,” you hum, giving him a thoughtful look, “I guess to err isn’t just human, after all.”

Death waits, bracing himself to balk, to feel a spike of offence run through his veins at being told he shares a – rather undesirable – quality with humans. He waits, and feels-

… Nothing. No contempt. No disdain or disappointment. Maybe just a touch of surprise.

“I’m gonna miss them,” you murmur, derailing the Horseman’s train of thought.

“The makers?”

“Everyone,” you stress, “The makers, Blackroot, Warden…”

Coughing lightly into a fist, Death has to peel his eyes away to avoid looking at you when he says, “I’m sure they’ll be…. of a similar mindset.” Honesty, vulnerability, words that have real significance don’t come so easily to the Horseman. If they did, he’d tell you that those makers are going to miss you more than you could possibly know.

Chewing on your lip, you idly kick an ankle against the side of the bed and ask, “Do you think I’ll ever see them again?”

In response, Death huffs out a short, soft laugh, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “Do I think you’ll see them again?” he echoes, “Y/n, I’m almost certain of it.”

“… Wait. Seriously?”

“Don’t I seem serious?” he blinks languidly.

“Yeah, it’s just… that sounded like optimism. And coming from you, that’s… I mean…” Squinting through the dark at him, you fold your hands in your lap and ask, “Are you feeling all right?”

The Horseman’s lips quirk up, though his voice retains a gruff and unimpressed melody as his shoulders jump with a brusque harrumph. “You must be feeling better if you’re already poking fun,” he grouses, assessing the miniscule glow of humour tucked around the corners of your mouth.

“I am, actually,” you shrug, flicking a glance over his mask and tipping your head with a knowing smile, “Maybe Dust isn’t the only one who’s good at cheering me-“

Three, gentle knocks on a nearby surface of wood break through your sentence like hammer blows ringing off an anvil.

From one blink to the next, the Horseman is inexplicably on his feet, flinging a strong, sinewy arm out in front of you, all at once alert and suspicious, whilst behind him, you scramble off the bed with far less grace, fighting to find stability for a moment before you square your feet and send a wary glance over his appendage at the room’s entrance.

“Hello?” you call, swiping furiously at your cheeks to rid them of what little trace of tears might still cling to your skin.

Death doesn’t turn to face you, but you’d be hard-pressed to miss the disgruntled sigh that slips out from under his mask at your tactical blunder.

You’ve all but announced that you – a human, need you be reminded – are in here.

A voice from outside calls out, muffled behind the thick layer of wood. “… Lady - Ah, I mean, Y/n?”

The tension doesn’t seem to drain out of Death nearly as fast as it drains out of you.

Draven.

Before the Horseman can stop you, you’ve already ducked underneath his arm, reaching up to distractedly smooth down your bedhead as you call out, “Oh, Draven, uh, coming!”

You hear your name uttered in a growl behind you, but you wave off the ornery Nephilim with a flap of your hand, twisting about to face him as you make for the door, hissing, “It’s his room, Death. If he wants to come in here, he has every right to.”

Realising your hand is reaching to pull the door open, Death surges forward, intent on getting to it before you – ‘just in case,’ a voice at the back of his head whispers – but he doesn’t make it halfway to you when you grab the brass handle and tug the rotting wood towards you, letting dull, green light spill into the quarters and creep up the opposite wall.

A familiar silhouette looms in the doorway, framing the space with broad shoulders and a tattered shroud that’s been pulled low to half cover a skeletal, ghoulish face. From your angle, standing at least a foot and a half shorter than the figure, you can see up underneath his hood.

You regret your haste to open the door, simply because you aren’t at all ready to witness the grim and ghastly visage of the Blademaster this early in the morning, but you stamp down on the temptation to reel back, and instead school your expression into a friendly smile. “Hi, uh, again.”

Draven’s luminous, blue eyes flare brightly as soon as they land on your face. There’s something held between each of his hands, though you hardly spare them a glance because, ever the gentleman, he’s already halfway into a low, sweeping bow when he suddenly stops short, bent so that he’s staring you directly in the eye.

It’s decidedly unnerving to have so much scrutiny on you, especially when the undead’s jaw suddenly locks up tight and his browbone snaps together as if you’ve offended him somehow without even saying a word.

“Uh-“ you start to say, only to find yourself interrupted when Draven rises to his full height again, unfolding at the waist and aiming a frigid glare over the top of your head. Coincidentally, an icy presence appears at your spine, pressing in close enough that you notice the hairs on the back of your neck start to prickle.

A growl rolls out through the gaps in the undead’s hollow cheeks. “Y/n,” he addresses you, his voice hard as stone, “Has this devil done you a discourtesy?”

“W…What?” you blurt.

Ferocity bleeds from his lipless mouth as he glares at the Horseman who drapes you in shadow, pale blue eyes aiming to douse the liquid fire hanging ominously in the darkness behind you.

“Her eyes are scarlet with salt,” he accuses.

Raising a hand to your face, you prod tenderly at the raw skin beneath your eyes and realise with a sinking sense of shame that you must still look like even more of a mess than you did when the Blademaster first saw you. “Oh, no. No, Draven, it’s fine,” you sigh, dragging a hand down your face, “Just… Look, it’s just been a rough night.”

The undead’s glower lifts the moment he rips his eyes off Death and returns it to you, his forehead puckering with concern. “But, you’re-“

“- I’m all right,” you reiterate, crooking one corner of your lips into a tight smile that all but pleads for him to drop the matter. You’re mortified enough.

The look on your face must be adequately pitiable, for Draven’s stance relaxes by a fraction, and as his arms slump from their guarded poise, you hear something clunk woodenly by his waist, rousing your curiosity and tempting you to lower your gaze to his hands.

If you thought you weren’t ready to see the Blademaster at your door, you’re doubly unprepared to see what he’s carrying.

Clearing your throat, you bob your chin at his hands and ask, “What’ve you got there?”

“Hmm?” Begrudgingly peeling away from the Horseman, Draven follows your line of sight, blinking down at a little wooden bowl and cup he’s clutching in each hand. Suddenly very sheepish, the undead ducks further into his green hood, “Forgive me, I was going to leave these by the door, but… then I heard voices.”

“And what were you doing skulking about so close to the door that you could hear us talk?” Death asks, hardly bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

You turn to give him a quick, pointed glare over your shoulder, one that he ignores.

“Just as I said, Horseman,” Draven retorts, “I thought the lady might be hungry, so…” He offers out the cup and bowl for you to see, giving you an apologetic look. “I’d have left it outside for you to find when you emerged, I… didn’t want to disturb you while you slept.”

Before you can reply, a voice at your back pipes up.

“You were going to leave it outside?” Death scoffs, “Where anyone could have tampered with it?”

Ignoring the Horseman, you peer down into the proffered crockery, your stomach gurgling eagerly as a waft of steam drifts from the bowl and rises into your nostrils. Never before would you have thought you’d be so excited about something so beige.

A simple, brown stew is balanced on one of Draven’s large palms, lumps of what you presume is meat bob about near the surface, and a single slice of fluffy, white bread floats at the centre, drawing a rather embarrassing flood of saliva to the front of your mouth. In his other hand, the small wooden cup is clasped like a chalice of ambrosia, though the only thing that wets its interior is crisp, clear water.

In your eyes, he may as well be holding out a gourmet dish that only the wealthiest of men would deign to touch.

“Draven,” you breathe in awe, reluctantly dragging your gaze off the food and peering up into the undead’s hollow face, “What’s all this for?”

Puzzled, he tilts his head at you, as thought the answer should be entirely obvious.

“It’s… for you,” he says, pressing the bowl and cup closer to your wringing hands, “I assumed you’d want to eat when you awoke. It’s not much, just some pottage I scrounged up.”

You begin to reach out, unfurling your fingers to take the unexpected gift when all of a sudden, chilly fingers wrap around your wrist, and before you can utter a sound, Death tugs you tidily back into the room, taking your place in the doorway, and peering down at the undead. “Where did you get it?” he asks, ignoring the disgruntled huff you aim at the back of his head, “Is this safe for human consumption?”

Draven’s lipless mouth pulls into a sneer. “Do you think me a fool?” he accuses.

“I think you an undead who we’ve only just met,” the Horseman replies coolly.

The Blademaster leans back on a heel, appraising Death with an expression that borders on impressed. “A fair point,” he concedes. Seconds later, Draven yields a nod. “It’s safe, Death. Believe it or not, the King entertains more than just the dead in his court, some of whom still rely on sustenance to get them through the day. Supplies are not as scarce as they would seem at first glance, and I may be far-removed from humanity, but I still remember my way around a cooking pot.”

Then, wordlessly, he holds the bowl and cup out towards the Horseman, tipping his head to one side with an expectant gleam in his fearsome, blue eyes.

Death’s attention flits between Draven and his handful several times, squinting dubiously at the dull, brown slop. For a few uncomfortable seconds, the Horseman subjects your potential meal to a good, long glare, and then at last, to your relief, you watch him raise his hands and grasp the edge of the bowl between his thumb and forefinger, doing the same with the cup.

He doesn’t take them immediately, too busy giving the undead a threatening growl. “If she eats this and something happens-“

“-I’ll be meeting the business end of your scythe?” Draven guesses, quirking a brow bone as he relinquishes the crockery and drops his arms to his sides again.

Death’s eyes narrow to thin lines of fire, prompting the undead to let out a chuckle and raise his hands up in mock defeat. “I understand, Horseman, I understand. I’d be overprotective as well if I had a lady like her under my care.”

Half hidden behind the Nephilim, you suck a breath in through your teeth as your grim companion bristles like a cornered cat, almost doubling in size with the amount of indignation that swells his shoulders. You’ve only known him a week or so, but in that time, you’ve already learned that being accused of caring is pretty low on the list of Things Death likes to Hear.

And sure enough…

“I am not overprotective,” the Horseman seethes, but with such an air of petulance that whatever threat his tone might have been trying to imply is completely undermined. Not to mention there’s something curiously un-threatening about the sight of him clutching a bowl of stew that - not thirty seconds ago - he was giving the stink-eye.

Even Draven doesn’t seem all that worried as he casts a knowing look at you around Death’s shoulder, his ghoulish features scrunching into a wink.

“No?” he asks, cocking his head to one side and sliding his gaze back to the wall of Nephilim standing before him, “Well, in that case, when the sun rises, I’m sure you won’t mind if I treat the lady to that tour I offered her.”

He’s chancing his arm, and he damn well knows it. And because he knows it, he’s already watching for the precise moment when Death recognises that he’s just stepped right into a verbal trap.

Unseen by the human in their midst, Death’s narrow eyes are now almost indiscernible within the congealing darkness of his sockets, and it’s only thanks to their preternatural, fiery glow that Draven can tell they’re open at all. They float inside the pitch-black pits that have been carved out of an ivory mask, unnatural and eerie, like two strips of flame streaking through the night sky.

If someone were to strike a match in the air between he and Death, Draven is almost certain the spark would set off an explosion that could blow the Eternal Throne clear through the stratosphere.

Two options lay out before the ancient Nephilim: Allow yo u to go with Draven in the morning, proving the smug undead wrong in his judgement of Death’s character. Or refuse the offer on your behalf and prove him right.

Begrudgingly, Death concedes that the undead’s tactics have successfully tripped him up. Rare as it is, it’s somewhat refreshing to be kept on his toes. Not that he’s in any way pleased to be cornered like this… Not least because he has a reputation he’d like to keep intact.

“She’ll consider it,” he says shortly.

There. It’s neither a yes or a no, and vague enough that Draven’s expectant gaze darkens with disappointment. Death is tempted to smirk triumphantly. Just because he stepped into the trap doesn’t mean he won’t know how to get out of it. He’s almost offended that the undead thought it would be so easy.

But the acquiescing look on Draven’s face doesn’t linger for more than a blink before it’s gone.

“I hope she does,” he hums, leaning sideways once more so that he can send you another secretive smile around the Horseman’s bulk, a smile that you find yourself readily reflecting. It feels like there’s a connection there somehow, between you and Draven. Human and ex-human. It’s something that Death isn’t privy to because he isn’t and never was human.

You wonder… Hell, you dare to hope that Draven might just… get you. There’s common ground in your humanity. The soul that sits lonely in your heart reaches out for the tiniest promise of companionship, softening you to the undead in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Right now, as you share amusement at the Grim Reaper’s expense, you find Draven just that bit more bearable to look at. Even the swords and broken blades that jut from his person like morbid adornments don’t seem so gruesome.

“I will consider it,” you promise, prompting Death to heave a disgruntled sigh whilst you breeze over his complaint, “Thank you, Draven. Really. This…” This act of immense kindness, though it might have seemed so mundane if it happened on Earth, has done wonders to warm your heart after feeling your very soul freeze over after your nightmare. But how could you possibly put into words the comfort he’s brought you? Rather than overthink it, you merely give your head a tiny shake of disbelief and let out a soft laugh, “This means… so much to me.”

Laying a hand across his concave chest, the undead dips his torso into a shallow bow and replies, “For you, it was no trouble at all.”

To your own surprise, the chivalrous little display turns you shy, and you start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly, avoiding his searching eyes as you smile down at the floor near Death’s boots.

Clicking his tongue, the Horseman shifts to stand sideways in the entrance, sweeping an unimpressed glance between you and Draven.

You may have averted your gaze, but the undead certainly hasn’t.

From head to toe, you’re all but poured over like a scroll of parchment in an angel’s library. Shameless in his observation, Draven’s cadaverous eyes carve tracks across your face and roam down the length of your body, whilst Death goes mostly ignored.

The Horseman is no fool. Though the very notions of romance and attraction have forever eluded him, he’s old and worldly enough to have at least encountered both in some way, shape or form. Besides, even a dunce would have to be trying exceptionally hard to miss what’s right in front of his nose.

You’ve caught the Blademaster’s eye.

And there’s the rub. Demons, he can put his scythe to, corrupted constructs and bloodthirsty bugs can be slain to keep you out of their gullets. Even Karn and his, at times, glaring attachment to you were innocent enough, as if the youngling was more starved for meaningful friendship than companionship. But an amorous undead? Death doesn’t have any protocol for manoeuvring around that particular minefield.

Once again, if there is such a thing as luck, the Horseman would be cursing his own. Isn’t it just typical that in such a vast and limitless Universe, his path would somehow carry you right to the Blademaster – the only other sod in Creation who shares your origins? Musing on that, Death can’t help but wonder if there truly is some unseen, omniscient hand guiding you along your journey.

Whoever the puppet master is, they’ve got a sick sense of humour.

Draven was Human – famously unpredictable species, a stereotype you continue to substantiate – but more to the point, he’s an unknown, and Death doesn’t especially like dealing with unknowns.

“Well then,” he announces abruptly, causing you to jump and reminding him that he’s allowed the undead to linger for a few moments too long, “If there’s nothing else…”

The skin around Draven’s jaw stretches as he opens it until the holes in his cheeks are thin and long, but before he can utter a word, Death says, “Wonderful,” and with a deft swing of his elbow, he bumps the door closed, giving the bottom of the wood a kick on its way to make sure it slams firmly shut. The room is once more plunged into that grimy, too-green gloom.

“Oh, that’s real nice, Death,” you snap, “The poor guy gives me a meal and lets me sleep in his bed, and you slam his own door shut in his face.”

“… That’s it,” he grumbles, turning to face you and pressing the bowl and cup into your hands, careful not to spill its contents as you splutter out a weak protest and fumble awkwardly with the woodware, “Tomorrow, you’re coming with me to the Champion’s arena. Not-!” he quickly snaps when you open your mouth to speak, “- to fight. You’re to watch from the sidelines.”

Looking down at you through the dark, he can tell you’re torn between continuing to berate him and diving into your newly acquired meal. Your eyes flit back and forth between him, the bowl, and the door, through which you can already hear the fading footfalls of your gracious host.

You’ve bulled yourself up at Draven’s expense, lips twisting into an unhappy frown, but it isn’t to last. Not with how desperate you are to fill your belly with something warm and cooked. Venting out a huff, you begrudgingly expel all the hot air from your lungs and lower yourself down onto the edge of the bed, lifting the stew to your lips to blow at the steam that drifts from it. “How do you know I’m not considering Draven’s tour?” you challenge.

It’s a good thing you’re pointedly ignoring the Horseman in favour of tipping back the bowl, because the look he shoots you is venomous enough that it would have stung had you caught it head-on.

“Just... Just eat the damn stew,” is all he bites out.

Well… You’re only too happy to oblige to that request.

You try not to wolf down the whole thing in one go, but as soon as the thin, watery gravy touches your lips and washes onto your tongue, you’re almost bowled over by the sheer influx of taste. At this point, after surviving on little else but water and the strange jerky Thane gave you, you could have eaten a rice cracker and called it filet mignon. Several bursts of flavour warm the inside of your cheeks and seep over and under your tongue. A piece of meat slides between your teeth as you slurp it up and you bite down on it hard, finding the strip tough and chewy, but oh so mouth-watering.

You spare the briefest of thoughts to its creature of origin, though the moment soon passes when you swallow, letting out a groan that might have been embarrassing if you weren’t so sure you’re justified in making such a sound. Privately, you make a mental note to thank Draven profusely in the morning, though whether that’s before or after you apologise to him for Death’s behaviour, you haven’t yet decided.

“Holy-“ Pausing, you lower the bowl and sweep a finger over the corners of your mouth, delicately removing the gravy gathered there, “-Shit, this is good.”

He almost asks if it tastes strange or off in any way, but with the Blademaster's words still ringing in his ears, Death stuffs them down with the rest of his wounded ego and begins to grumble nonsensically to himself. In fact, he's so busy muttering under his breath and glowering at the door that he doesn’t even pause to throw a withering glare at Dust when the crow hops onto the bed again and struts up to you with the confidence of a bird who knows you’re a pushover.

Only too happy to reinforce that confidence, you deftly scoop a chunk of meat into your palm and offer it out for the bird to peck at.

“Overprotective…” Death scoffs heatedly, “The nerve of that…” His mask abruptly whips around towards you, giving you pause with your cheeks full of stew. “Do you feel I’ve been overprotective?”

Putting aside the fact that you’ve never seen Death get this riled about a jibe before…

Swallowing thickly, you draw out an unconvincing, “No?”

The strange glow of his irises flicker for a second – a twitch of an eyelid? “Well, if I seem that way, it’s only because you’re so damnably adept at getting yourself into trouble,” he complains, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall with a decisive thump, “And frankly, I’d rather avoid having an angry group of makers hunt me to the ends of the Universe if something were to happen to you under my watch.”

It’s not just a lie meant to preserve his pride. Not entirely…

“They wouldn’t do that,” you tut, bemused, tilting the bowl and taking another, long slurp of the stew, manners be damned. You never thought you’d eat a cooked meal again.

His chest rumbles moodily. “They would.”

A wordless peace lingers in the air between you then, disturbed only by the sound of you chewing through toughened meat and the gentle sloshing of stew as your fingers chase the pieces around their bowl. You pretend not to notice the quick, attentive glances being sent your way.

Dust throws his feathered head up towards the ceiling, his beak wide open around the hunk of meat you offered him. In a rather unappetising display, the crow gulps it down with a few bobs of his neck.

“Nice,” you grunt, pulling a face.

You don’t put your bowl down until every last piece of the stew is gone, and even then you have to fight back an urge to lick the interior clean, mindful that present company might find that habit a bit too uncivilised not to comment on. Even with the Earth and its civilisation far behind you, you can’t let go of table-manners. It would be laughable if the reminder of your lonely humanness didn’t carry so many undertones of despair.

Breathing a soft, satisfied sigh, you bend down and drop the bowl on the floor with a clunk, instantly exchanging it for the cup of water before you sit up again to watch Death glower at the doorway as though he hopes it’ll burst into flames.

There’s a rigidity to him that doesn’t suit the late hour and the warmth in your belly.

Casting your mind about for a way to free him from whatever monologue he must have rattling away in that enigmatic head of his, you take a swig of the water, regarding the Horseman ponderously over the rim of the cup.

“So,” you say, smacking your lips as the lukewarm liquid slides down your throat, “What do you think the chances are that Vulgrim’s delivered my message?”

Luminous eyes blink slowly, roving from the door to land on your face.

He visibly hesitates, then asks, “What would help you go back to sleep faster?”

Your deadpan stare is ruined by an unseemly snort and flutter of your lips. “Just humour me, wise guy.”

“Very well…” Death grunts, “Chances are slim.”

“… Don’t know why I bother.”

Despite your tone, you’re secretly pleased when his broad shoulders slacken as he chuckles, unfolding his arms and resting each hand casually on his hips instead. “Given how often you’ve surprised me so far,” he sighs with an air of begrudging acceptance, “I suppose it wouldn’t be so shocking to learn you’ve actually convinced the demon to go through with your favour.”

“I surprise you?” you smile.

“At every turn.”

“Aw~”

“That’s not a compliment.”

“Oh.”

It is. It absolutely is. But he’ll be damned if he lets you know what a luxury surprises are for a being who was confident the Universe had nothing new to throw at him. He’s already far too soft on you as it is. Paying you compliments paves a slippery slope towards irrefutable fondness.

Dust would be insufferable.

“Now then,” he coughs gruffly, more to disrupt his own thoughts than to get your attention, “You should… try and get some more rest. I’ll wake you at sunrise.”

All at once, what little levity had been draped around your shoulders sloughs away. He’s right. You should try and sleep a little longer. Moments like these, moments where you can stop to catch your breath, could well be few and far between in the coming days.

“Death? Will you…?” Your voice catches and you don’t finish your sentence aloud, working your jaw up and down wordlessly as a sudden but subtle wave of shame washes over you like an ebbing tide. ‘Stay’ is on the tip of your tongue. But you realise it’s a silly question to ask, even if a very small, very vulnerable part of you desperately wants to seek reassurance from the dour Horseman sharing this space with you. Death has given no indication that he plans to stray far from your side.

Bottom line? You’re afraid to fall asleep again, much as your overwrought mind craves a few more hours of unconscious bliss, and your arms feel heavy as lead when you lower the cup to the floor, setting it down beside the bowl.

If you sleep, you might dream, after all.

And your dreams are full of ghosts.

Fingers twist searchingly into the blanket you’re sitting on, squeezing and clenching until they ache. It grounds you, at least a bit.

You don’t really notice that Death’s mask is tilted to one side, watching your hands closely until he shifts, easing himself through the gloom until he’s only a step away from the bed. It’s sometimes convenient to forget what he is, when your heart misses home so badly that it wants to find humanity in everything around you, including Death. It’s easy to forget that he’s older than you could probably comprehend, that he’s wise enough to hear a human’s unfinished plea and be able to predict how it ends.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he assures you.

Relief unwinds your hands from the fists you’ve curled them into, like roses blooming from the bud.

Soon, you’ll be awake, and the tragedies of yesterday will be saddled to your back alongside all the rest, but you’ll carry them with you as best you can. You don’t have a choice, after all. You followed Death to the Land of the Dead.

When the sun rises, you’ll rise with it and face the consequences of your choice.

#I live #Darksiders #fluff #soft Death #jealousy #Draven x Reader #attraction #GOD it's late #But it feels good to post this #I'm still here

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

WIBTA if I sent a complaint about my upstairs neighbors to our buildings management despite never having communicated with them directly? Okay so I live in an apartment building. My upstairs neighbors regularly have loud parties (?) It doesn't always sound like it, but at least loud music playing, and sometimes that includes stomping around (assumed dancing) and loud talking/laughing or rarely fighting. This usually occurs on weekend nights, from friday to saturday or from saturday to sunday (most common I'd say), and can last for hours. Sometimes it's just during the day/afternoon, which, annoying, but sure, it's day, can deal with it while just being annoyed.

At some point, this was mainly an issue when I had sleepover guests, since they would sleep in the living room, opposite side of the flat I sleep on, and usually where all that originates (assuming they are also doing this in their living room) But I feel like it has been getting progressively worse, both in volume and times this happens at. It's currently 3.45 am on a Saturday, and they've been going since at least 3, probably earlier, but that's when I woke up/became aware enough to actively notice it. (Proofreading and it's now 4.10am, still going strong up there-) Now, I'm not one to call the police, especially when there is no actual danger or physical harm that can't be dealt with otherwise effectively, bc ACAB, but I've taken several clips with audio tonight because I'm fucking tired and am heavily considering sending the management company for our building a complaint about them. The issue I'm not clear on is mostly...that I never really talked to them directly. I know they've gotten complaints and stopped before, and I've left a note together with a guest of mine in front of their door before. Yet it remains a recurring occurrence. I've never actually knocked or rang the doorbell to directly ask them to stop. I live alone and am afab in my 20s, all I know about my upstairs neighbors is that it's two men (though there's definitely sometimes people over, as I said sometimes these occurrences are definitely parties). At most I will have one friend over who's also afab on these occasions. (We are both trans/nb but p much present as our assigned gender in current circumstances) I also have social anxiety, though I don't think it's particularly unreasonable to be worried to confront unknown men, who will know where I live as well, about literally anything considering we live in a society TM. (Obviously I don't know that it wouldn't just go over very easily however, exactly the issue that you can never rly know that- like ik most people would probably react chill or at best annoyed I'm interrupting them or whatever but there's always a chance to run into the exceptions TM)

I don't need to work on the weekends (though other people in flats around us might, idk) but I still gotta like, maintain my sleeping rhythm ideally, and you know. Generally pleasant to be able to sleep at night if you would like to- I do not know what actions they would or could take if they do consider the complaint at all, but I'm not really assuming they'd like, cause them serious issues regarding their living situation, it's more likely at most they get a letter/some shitty little flyer to not loudly party in the middle of the night get put up in the hallway/at the building doors. But again that's my assumption and not a fact I know for sure, I could be completely wrong about that, and I don't know if there's potential other complaints.

So, WIBTA if I sent clips of the loud music in the middle of the night and a complaint to our building management without knowing potential consequences, even though I have not tried to communicate with my neighbors except a singular note one time?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mcflymemes · 1 year

Text

TAYLOR SWIFT PROMPTS * assorted lines from her albums

meet me at midnight.

i'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you.

i snuck in through the garden gate.

they say looks can kill, and i might try.

tell me to run.

sometimes i wonder which one will be your last lie.

i play it cool with the best of them.

love's a game. wanna play?

maybe we got lost in translation.

no one's celebrating.

don't say i didn't warn you.

we're dancing all night.

i didn't choose this town.

i should just tell you to leave.

you can try to change my mind.

we were both young when i first saw you.

let's get out of this town.

i might be okay, but i'm not fine at all.

i'd live and die for moments that we stole.

what would he do if he found us out?

all this shit is new to me.

i could show you incredible things.

i waited ages to see you there.

i miss you.

i should not be left to my own devices.

if i bleed, you'll be the last to know.

please don't go.

get it off your chest.

you look like my next mistake.

you told your family for a reason.

maybe i asked for too much.

can i go where you go?

i know it's long gone.

i think it's time to teach some lessons.

life will lose all meaning.

you're on your own, kid.

what you heard is true.

take me somewhere we can be alone.

everybody wants you.

boys only want love if it's torture.

nice to meet you. where you been?

one day i'll watch as you're leaving.

nothing lasts forever.

you did some bad things, but i'm the worst of them.

i don't remember.

i called a taxi to take me there.

he's gonna burn this house to the ground.

i just sit here and wait.

i can read you like a magazine.

i think i've been too good of a girl.

you might have to wait in line.

close your eyes.

the blame is on me.

save all your dirtiest jokes for me.

get it off my desk.

you started it.

the jokes weren't funny.

i think i've been a little too kind.

you're not sure which is worse.

say you'll remember me.

i'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

i'd like to be my old self again.

we're dead if they knew.

you've got no reason to be afraid.

by the way, i'm going out tonight.

i can picture it after all these days.

we never go out of style.

i heard you moved on.

we're young, and we're reckless.

i know you heard about me.

you were everything to me.

i've been dressing for revenge.

can we always be this close forever and ever?

i cried like a baby coming home from the bar.

no one has to know what we do.

what a shame she's fucked in the head.

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand.

what doesn't kill me makes me want you more.

i don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you.

this is our place. we make the call.

this love is difficult, but it's real.

it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.

something about it felt like home somehow.

what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

how's one to know?

i polish up real nice.

you can tell me when it's over.

do you have a man?

the worst is yet to come.

will you please stand?

don't be afraid. we'll make it out of this mess.

i dropped your hand while dancing.

this dorm was once a madhouse.

hey, let's be friends.

don't get sad. get even.

you're talking shit for the hell of it.

you'll never have to be alone.

you love the game.

it's coming back around.

i get drunk on jealousy.

where do you think she got it from?

your opal eyes are all i wish to see.

i remember it all too well.

you wouldn't know what i mean.

don't put me in the basement.

i can make the bad guys good for a weekend.

you'll come back each time you leave.

i love you and that's all i really know.

i don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch.

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scarletttries · 1 year

Text

NSFW Headcanon Request: Kendall Roy (Succession)

Kendall Roy + Orgasm Denial: (prompt list here)

Kendall Roy is a man who very rarely has to be patient. When Kendall Roy wants something in his day-to-day life there's usually an army of personal assistants anticipating his needs and making sure his request is fulfilled within minutes.

After a lifetime of getting what you want as soon as you ask for it, someone actually making him wait, making him work for what he wants, and sometimes snatching it away at the last possible second would drive him completely crazy in the best way.

The first time you suspected Kendall might get off on being told to wait was early in your relationship. You'd donned a particularly elaborate set of lingerie to surprise him one evening, watching the sheer joy spread across his face as, entranced, he watched you shed your layers to reveal the lacey surprise. Kendall was quick to jump out of his chair, tracing your shape through the thin fabric with his fingertips, before looking for the clasp to take it off and expose you to him. Pushing softly against his chest you shook your head, nodding towards the chair he'd just sprung from,

"Uh-Uh, 'Dall. You have to be patient and let me take it off for you. No touching yet." He let out an incredulous laugh at the command, his legs shifting in his seat as the immediate effect of you telling him what to do washed over his body.

"Are you serious, gorgeous? Look at you, how am I supposed to resist that? You're a fucking work of art!" He pleaded, fixated as you let your fingertips dance over your skin, gently touching all the places Kendall was desperate to feel himself. You nodded your head to his question, colour flushing to your cheeks at his words and the way his gaze drank in every drop of you.

"You have to try Kendall - I promise if you're good and let me take this off myself," you let the strap resting on your shoulder fall down your arm for effect, "then you can touch me as much as you want when it's gone." Kendall grinned at the offer before he countered smugly,

"And if I come over there and start touching you exactly how you like it, then what? Am I going to get in trouble?" His lips settled into smirk as you considered his words, stepping forward to lean over him, watching him start to lift his eager hands, expecting victory.

"Well then Ken," you let your fingers fall the obvious bulge in his designer trousers, rubbing the length of him and earning a hiss as the contact sent shockwaves through him, "If you don't play along, I'm going to keep rubbing you," you moved your lips to his neck as you spoke, his eyes fluttering shut in his sensitivity, letting the blissful sensations fill him."and giving you exactly what you want," you worked your hand a little faster, feeling Kendall squirm in his seat, excitement quickly building at your touch, "and then i'm gonna stop." You snatched your hand away, "and make you wait until I come over next weekend to finish the job." You studied his awestruck face as his eyes snapped open, brain short circuiting at the feelings so close to releasing inside of him, desperate for more but only at your command.

"I'll be good." He spoke softly, all arrogance gone, a man who would follow your every word if it meant you kept looking at him like this.

And Kendall was good that night, squirming in his seat and waiting patiently until you decided he was ready to cum inside you, built up to one of the best orgasms he could ever remember having.

From then on you knew better than to let Kendall cum the first time he got close, making him wait while he got you off instead, more than happy to obey in exchange for the incredible release he felt when you finally allowed him to spill himself inside you, his favourite place to be.

Teasing looked so much better on you to Kendall, but that doesn't mean he won't occasionally turn the tables after a tough day of feeling like he has no control or power over anything in his life - except your pleasure. He's not above making you beg for him to speed up, to touch you, to let you finish, his dark eyes staring down at you as he feels the tremble of your thighs betray how close you are to your desperate release. Don't be suprised if once you've finally convinced him to let you cum, he doesn't ease up on fucking you for hours, reminding him how desperate you were for him to fuck you earlier as he draws out yet another orgasm you didn't think you had left.

#kendall roy smut #kendall roy headcanon #kendall succession #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy succession #kendall you / reader #kendall roy requests

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raaorqtpbpdy · 3 months

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Haunting With Dinosaurs (2)

Danny is summoned by a powerful occult practitioner named Victor Veloci, who wants him to bring dinosaurs back to life. It sounds absurd, but Danny is bound to him and cannot refuse, even though he can't actually bring dinosaurs back to life. Instead, he merges the ghosts of five dinosaurs with the bodies of the five human sacrifices Veloci used to summon him, restoring them to life as dinosaur halfas. And that's only the beginning. I'm lowkey assuming that the majority of people who read this will not have seen Dino Squad, so I've made sure to describe all the DS elements a little more thoroughly than the DP elements so those of you who haven't seen Dino Squad can understand what's going on.

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 4: Any Fandom Dino Squad | Element

Read it on AO3 also, Watch Dino Squad on YouTube it sucks (affectionate)

Danny is slightly aged up to be 18 and a recent high school graduate, also this is a ghost king Danny AU, and obviously Phantom Planet didn't happen, but other than that, no major changes have been made to DP lore in this fic.

As for Dino Squad, I've made some pretty significant changes, but they pretty much boil down to: This is a supernatural AU, so it won't have canon-typical Dino Squad made-up science. All other changes are explained in the actual fic as they come up.

This may or may not be the last chapter, haven't decided yet, but I made sure to give it a decent ending, just in case. It is not yet edited, but will be eventually.

"Italicized dialogue" indicates speech that can only be heard in the POV character's head. (Danny in this chapter)

Chapter 2: Day of the Dinos

[No applicable warnings]

After dropping off the van and driver, Danny flew straight to the school and waited impatiently. It was a Saturday, so the only people on campus were the boys' soccer team playing practice games, the few unlucky teachers who had last-minute work to get done, and the fewer, even unluckier students who'd gotten stuck with weekend detention.

For the sake of not drawing attention to himself, he'd switched to his human form. Any time someone got close who might recognize he wasn't supposed to be there, he would duck out of sight behind the school's sign, or a tree or something. He didn't need to be mistaken for someone who was supposed to be in detention—or worse, on the soccer team.

In the 15 hours or so that he'd been in this town, Danny hadn't learned much about it. He'd learned that it was called Kittery Point, and it was in Maine, so at least he hadn't left the country. After hearing Victor's accent, he'd been a little worried that he might've been in Europe somewhere. He'd learned that he couldn't leave this town, thanks to his order not to go too far.

And he'd learned that this place was absolutely teeming with dinosaur ghosts.

It was a veritable Jurassic Park of ghost dinosaurs.

It was kind of awesome, but also kind of terrifying, because Danny had nearly been stepped on twice while he was standing in front of the school waiting, and even if they were too weak to be visible or tangible to a normal human, they could still crush Danny just fine. He wouldn't die, but it would hurt like a bitch.

He'd been waiting for half-an-hour before Rodger finally showed up.

Danny had made sure to get all their names before he'd dropped them off. Rodger was the one he'd merged with the styrofoam-saurus or whatever it was. The one that looked like a triceratops, but wasn't. Danny still hadn't figured out the difference.

"Over here!" Danny called out to him.

"Uh... do I know you?" Rodger asked. "Sorry, I can't really chat, I'm looking for—"

"The ghost king?" Danny flashed his eyes. "It's me, Danny."

"You overshadowed some poor kid?"

"No, it's me," Danny repeated. "I can take on a human form to disguise myself. I call myself Danny Fenton in the form. Get it? 'cause it sounds like—"

"Phantom, yeah, I get it."

Back home, Danny couldn't really use his human form as a disguise, since even as a human he was fairly famous locally for his association to his parents, who were regularly in the news, especially the traffic report. It was pretty convenient to be a nobody, all told.

Rodger immediately tried to get answers out of him, of course. He seemed like the inquisitive type. He was obviously the smart one of the group. Not that the others weren't smart, but it was a type, and he met all the requirements.

"Please, be patient," Danny said. "Once everyone is together, I'll explain things to all of you at once, and you can all ask your follow-up questions. I don't want to have to keep repeating myself for each of you guys, okay? Sound fair?"

Rodger begrudgingly allowed it.

Danny had to go through basically the same conversation again when Max and then Fiona showed up, and again with Caruso.

Danny liked Caruso. He was cute when his face wasn't all busted up, and it turned out he was pretty funny too. Now that he'd showered, gotten dressed in new clothes, and put a little product in his hair, he was downright gorgeous. He looked classy too. Not a lot of teenagers wore their skinny jeans with a dress shirt and tie, but Caruso made it work.

Oh, Ancients was he staring? Danny, stop staring!

"So you can shapeshift," Caruso summed up. "That's convenient."

They had to wait a little while longer before Buzz showed up. He strolled up to them wearing brown combat boots, green cargo pants covered in patches and safety pins, and a tie-dyed muscle shirt with the logo of a band Danny had never heard of. Now, with all the piercings, and punk accessories, the mohawk made a lot more sense.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I almost didn't come. I thought it might be better not to know what was going on and just try to move on, but this voice squawking in my head is really annoying."

"Does it want fish?" Fiona asked.

"Yes! Yours too?"

"She literally won't shut up about it."

"Mine is also complaining about having to walk everywhere and calling me stupid and inferior for nor being able to fly," Buzz added. "Anyone else? No?"

They all shook their heads.

"Awesome."

"It's so weird seeing you without the battle jacket," Caruso commented.

"Well, you'd better get used to it because that thing is toast. Literally."

"Right... sorry."

"Alright, our ride should be out any minute now," Danny said, checking the clock on the front of the school building.

As if on cue, the very woman he was waiting for walked out the front entrance and he waved at her. Joanne Moynihan, a bespectacled, gray-haired, Irish science teacher at the very same high school these kids happened to attend, and she was the second velociraptor who'd survived the extinction.

It had taken Danny all night to find her, asking both human and dinosaur ghosts for leads, but he'd tracked her down that morning and talked to her, and she was way different from her counterpart. For one thing, where Victor had been able to see ghosts the entire time, Joanne didn't even believe in ghosts until Danny proved his own existence to her. For another, she was kind, and cared about humans, and Danny was fairly certain she would never kill anyone, let alone her own students.

"Our AP bio teacher?" Fiona asked. "Am I the only one whose confused?"

"I'm confused," Buzz agreed.

"What does she have to do with any of this?" Max asked, looking a little lost.

"A lot more than you'd think, actually," Danny told them.

"These are the five you were talking about?" Ms. Moynihan asked, surprised. "What are the odds of five students from my third period class all getting dragged into this mess."

"Well, every story gets to have a really big coincidence," Danny said with a shrug. "So here's ours, I guess. Should we get going?"

"Of course," Ms. Moynihan said, leading the way to the parking lot. "You're lucky I decided to buy a van so I could transport lab equipment more easily or it'd be quite the tight squeeze to drive all of you."

They all piled into her car. Then she and Danny explained the situation to them.

Ms. Moynihan took the parts about herself and Victor surviving the dinosaurs' extinction and then for millions more years, part of which was spent in suspended animation. Danny took the spooky and supernatural parts, like telling them he'd merged them with dinosaur ghosts to bring them back from the dead.

"I told him that it would be like a possession, but my intention was to essentially give you the powers of the ghostly dinosaurs while your own wills and personalities were completely in control," Danny told them. "I meant to use the energy from the ghost dinos to bring you back with some residual ghost powers. I didn't expect the ghosts' personalities to stick around.

"Honestly, I didn't really think ghost dinosaurs would have distinct enough personalities to stick around. Sorry about that, guys."

"So basically, the voices we're hearing were an unintended side-effect," Rodger summed up. "But what did you mean by bringing us back with some residual ghost powers? What ghost powers?"

"I'm surprised you haven't noticed them yet," Danny said. "Side-effects of being brought back to life using ghosts may include: intangibility, mild ESP such as the ability to sense the presence of other ghosts, flight, energy manipulation, laser eyes, and much much more!"

"Laser eyes?" Buzz repeated.

"Well, ectoplasmic beams that you can fire from various body parts, but yeah."

"So like... seeing giant spectral dinosaurs tromping through the streets?" Rodger asked. "Yea or nay?"

"You see them too?" Buzz asked. "So It's not just because I missed my meds today."

"That's what I'm talking about," Danny confirmed. "This town has, like, a hugely disproportionate population of ghost dinosaurs, and I strongly suspect that's Mr. Victor's doing. He has this spell or something that calls them right to him. That's how I got the dino ghosts I used to bring you guys back."

"I don't want to have ghost powers," Max lamented. "I wanna be a quarterback."

"Well, your only other option is actually being dead," Danny pointed out. "I'm not asking for gratitude, but you could at least stand to have a little perspective."

Max pouted and sighed but didn't try to complain anymore.

"Hey... we've been driving a long time," Fiona observed. "Where are we going?"

"Ms. Moynihan has graciously agreed to lend us her secret base," Danny said. "It's a lighthouse on the cliffs at the edge of town."

"It's not exactly a secret base," Ms. Moynihan pointed out. "It does have a very powerful light at the top signalling it's position to everyone it can, but Veloci doesn't know I live there, so it should be a safe place to use as our base of operations."

"What operations?" Caruso asked. "What exactly do you think we're going to be doing?"

"Well, for one, I've gotta teach you how to use all your ghost powers," Danny pointed out, "because they can be kind of problematic if you can't use them properly."

"And for another, Veloci needs to be stopped," Ms. Moynihan added. "You five now have the power, and I believe also the motivation to stop him."

"I stalled him by saying it would take centuries to regain enough power to repeat what I did with you guys on other dinosaurs," Danny said, "But with this binding spell on me, it's only a matter of time before he discovers I was lying."

"We should probably add finding a way to remove that binding spell to our to-do list, too, then," Fiona said. "Right?"

"I would certainly appreciate it," Danny agreed. "In the mean time, Ms. Moynihan is gonna help me enroll as a student at your school. I never thought I'd end up back in the hell that is high school after I became the king of actual hell, but I'll do whatever it takes to keep an eye on you guys and protect you."

"Why?" Caruso asked. "In fact, why did you bring us back to life at all? Not that I'm necessarily complaining, but like you said, you're the king of hell, king of the dead. Why do you even care about a few insignificant humans like us?"

"I may be the king of the dead, but that doesn't mean I want everyone to die," Danny said. "I was alive once too. I died young, and it sucked. It only happened to you five because someone wanted to summon me, so... I guess I feel responsible for you. For your deaths, and for making sure it doesn't happen again any time soon.

"Besides, I can't leave town because dear old Victor told me not to go far, so what else am I gonna do? Hang out with him and work as his dumb black magic shop? No thanks."

"I guess that makes sense," Caruso allowed, but he still sounded a bit suspicious.

Danny decided not to push it, even though he kind of really wanted Caruso, in particular, to like him. Hopefully, Caruso would come around eventually, but Danny wouldn't get anywhere with him by aggressively insisting he was the good guy and they had to trust him. He could show them he was trustworthy. That was what he planned to do anyway.

At last, they reached the lighthouse.

Ms. Moynihan went straight inside while the rest of them stayed outside so Danny could give them their first lesson: transforming.

"Transforming from a human to a ghost is just like flipping a switch," Danny explained. "Just try to focus, and shift from human to ghost. I've found a catchphrase can help when you're a beginner. Observe." He clenched his fists, solidified his stance and shouted, "I'm goin' ghost!"

Familiar white rings appeared, spanning his body, and then he stood before them in his ghost form.

"Turning human again should be even easier, since it's your natural state," Danny said, then demonstrated turning human again. "Now you try."

The five teens looked between each other with raised eyebrows and puzzled expressions.

"Uh... going... ghost?" Fiona tried.

Nothing happened.

"Hm.... Oh! I know!" Danny said. "Remember how your ghost powers come from being merged with ghost dinosaurs? Try picturing the dinosaur you're merged with. Fiona, for you, that's a spinosaurus. Caruso got a stegosaurus. Max got a T-Rex. Buzz got a pteranodon—"

"No wonder she won't shut up about flying!" Buzz shouted.

"And Rodger got a... um... styro... styrieco... saurus?"

"A what?" Rodger asked. His brows furrowed and he frowned in thought. "Do you mean a styracosaurus?"

"Maybe?" Danny said. "It looked like a triceratops to me."

"But with spines on the fringe and no horns over the eyes, right?" Rodger guessed.

"Is that what the difference was?" Danny asked, gaping. "You know, come to think of it, it did look like that—Oh! Also, those voices you guys are hearing might actually be able to help with this, since you're kind of trying to transform into them."

"Are you sure they won't be able to take control once we transform?" Caruso asked.

"Absolutely," Danny confirmed. "Well, mostly. Actually, I hadn't even considered that possibility, but it's probably fine."

Wow, Caruso was more clever than he let on. And Danny had just completely fumbled his reassurances. Damn. He was losing points with this guy that he didn't even have.

"Great," Caruso said sardonically.

Still, the five of them kept trying, and one by one, they were each able to turn into faintly glowing spectral dinosaurs. And as a bonus, the dinosaurs' personalities didn't even become dominant when they transformed. Huge win!

While they were practicing, Ms. Moynihan came out with a camera and took pictures of the red markings around Danny's wrists, the markings from the binding spell. They even carried over to his human form, which was concerning, and Danny couldn't make heads or tails of what the symbols meant. Not that he was exactly an expert on that.

Ms. Moynihan wasn't an expert on ancient symbology or languages either, as she was quick to point out. She was a scientist—a geneticist, actually—and all this magic and spirits nonsense was not her field. Nevertheless, she was a skilled researcher with millennia of experience, and she would do what she could.

By the time the teens insisted on heading home for the night, they could all fly back on their own, and Danny felt like they had a solid start. There was a lot they still needed to learn, and a lot they still needed to do before they could beat Victor and Danny would finally be able to return home himself, but they could do it. He was sure of it.

"Come to me," Victor's voice sounded in his head and the marking's on his wrists burned.

He shifted to his ghost form and took off toward the black magic shop in the shady part of town.

This would be both their biggest advantage, and their biggest struggle. Danny could act as a double agent, telling them about all of Victor's plans and schemes and warning them of danger. But he also had to follow all of Victor's commands, no matter what.

Leading Victor on without giving the others away until they were able to take him down was going to be quite the challenge.

"Ghost King," Victor called him. "They're gone! They've escaped."

"First, it's Phantom, not ghost king. I don't call you Evil Velociraptor Witch," Danny said. "And second, I can see that they're gone. I'm standing right next to you. You don't have to yell at me."

"Well where are they?"

"I don't know, they probably went home. Why don't you just call their parents and ask?"

"I can't call their parents, I don't know who they are."

"You sacrificed five random kids without even knowing who they are? Very sloppy."

"Can't you find them with one of your powers?"

"No can do," Danny said. "I can sense ghosts when they're nearby, but I can't magically track them down."

It wasn't a lie. Victor hadn't asked Danny if he knew where they lived, or if he could find them without the use of his powers.

He was starting to realize that Victor was one of those magic-users who was completely over-reliant on magic, to the point where he forgot about easier non-magical methods of doing things. If Danny was right, Victor wouldn't ask Danny to start knocking on doors until one of his missing sacrifices answered one.

He'd try to find a tracking spell or something, and a tracking spell wouldn't work without something that belonged to the person he was looking for. The only thing Victor had from any of them was their blood on the floor of his basement, and that wasn't going to cut it. At least, not once Danny mopped it all up and claimed he was just trying to be helpful when Victor yelled at him for it.

"I suppose I'll have to find a tracking spell," Victor said, turned out Danny was right on the money. "But first, you said they would be possessed by the spirits of the dinosaurs I called. But when they woke up, they seemed to be in complete control. I know how a dinosaur trapped in a human body acts, and they were not acting like dinosaurs trapped in human bodies."

"Technically, I said it would be like possession," Danny pointed out. "I can merge two spirits together, but I can't control which one has control. My guess is that the spirits of the dinosaurs were partially faded and weakened because of their age, which meant the human spirits were stronger and took control."

That actually was a lie, but Victor hadn't ordered him not to lie, so as long as he wasn't refusing an order, he was fine.

At least, that had been basically what he'd hoped was going to happen when he revived those kids. In reality the dinosaur spirits had ended up being much stronger than he'd expected, despite their age. That was why the humans could still hear their voices.

"I've never dealt with ghosts that were millions of years old before," he continued. "Honestly, I didn't even know there were ghosts of dinosaurs until after you summoned me. I'm doing the best with what I've got, but you gotta understand this is completely new territory for me, and I'm learning as I go."

"So what you're saying is I know infinitely more than you about prehistoric ghosts."

"I wouldn't have put it that way, but pretty much."

Victor sneered. "Very well," he said. "Leave me to my work, but don't go too far. I'll call upon you when I need you again."

"Aye aye, sir," Danny said with a mocking salute.

Then he flew up through the ceiling and back toward the lighthouse where Ms. Moynihan had told him he could stay until he was able to return home. He could tell already that he was in this for the long haul. And he definitely had his work cut out for him.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #fic #things i wrote #dino squad #dinosquad #dp x dinosquad #dp crossover #crossover #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover danuary week #supernatural elements

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mugenloopdalove · 6 months

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➼ “Stop smothering me, you dumbass.” “It’s to make up for the lack of hugs in all these years in your life when I wasn’t there!” for stobotnik? :>

Agent Stone was no one before he got assigned to Doctor Robotnik. Even on the force, he was never truly... Wanted. Which, in hindsight, might be why he was assigned to the also widely dislike doctor.

But the doctor, his doctor understood. Sure, there were times he insulted him, times he put him down, times he treated him like nothing more than an inconvenience...

But there were times he made it clear that he knew the truth: he needed Stone as much as he needed him. And then, there were rare, rare occasions where Robotnik showed a completely genuine side of himself. True openness and weakness was rare for him but... Stone was happy to know he was the only one to see that.

As they sat alone one weekend, Robotnik happily sipping on one of his favorite lattes, Stone couldn't help but wonder...

"Sir? If I may ask... What were you doing before we met?" He asked, a bit pensive. He wasn't sure of the doctor would lash out but... He couldn't satiate his curiosity. He needed to at least try to ask.

And... Part of him wanted to know just how special he was to Robotnik. Was there anyone important before him?

Robotnik cocked an eyebrow, putting his coffee down. "Interested in my history, are we, Agent Stone?" He asked, a devilishly handsome grin spreading across his face. "Well, I have been thinking of writing an autobiography. Let the world know the great tale of the universe's most handsome, intelligent, and powerful man that ever has or will live and breathe!" As always, his words were loud and dramatized. And as always, Stone couldn't do anything but smile lovingly.

"I'm sure it will be a best seller, sir," he said genuinely. The world deserved to know of such a fantastic genius.

"Of course it will! Play your cards right and I'll make sure you get a signed copy, agent." The grin on Robotnik's face set Stone's heart aflame. "And I suppose I could give you a preview right now, since you've asked so kindly."

The doctor cleared his throat and rose from his seat and began pacing the floor as he talked, his motions as over the top and beautiful as ever. "As you are already so keenly aware of, I was tragically orphaned from a very young age. But I never once let that stop me. Yes, I was always a step, no five steps!! Ahead of my peers. And while this did leave me so deeply misunderstood, I never needed friends! The other children were unintelligent, disloyal little bugs, not worth even a nanosecond of my time! I created my first loyal, lovely robot from a radio at the tender, youthful age of four, and from there, my babies were all I ever needed."

Stone hung onto every word and... He couldn't help to notice a slight, ever so brief change in Robotnik's tone when he talked about the other children he grew up around...

They weren't so different, were they?

"My genius, flawless intellect carried me to earning my doctrine at 16, and from there, I continued my innovative research in technology for years to come thanks to substantial government funding. I never had time for 'parties' or 'friends' or other... Moronic wastes of precious time. I had science! And science! And my babies, of course, were all I needed."

There was that wavering again... It was starting to hurt Stone's heart...

"The government assigned me many, many agents before I met you, and each felt more moronic, disobedient, and impetulant than the last! And then... There was you, Stone. You understood my intellect! You listened and obeyed so flawlessly! And, you made a killer latte." Stone thought he could faint from all the praise. Robotnik stopped in his tracks just next to his chair, and stayed there, grinning wildly. "And now, here we are! Sure we've had our ups and downs, but we haven't been defeated yet! Our time will come, Agent Stone! And when it does... We'll prove every imbecile that doubted me wrong."

There wasn't Robotnik's usual confidence in the last statement. In fact there... Seemed to be a bit of pain behind the words. Stone couldn't take it. He did the one thing he could think of, something he wanted to do for years now. Something he should have done long, long, long before...

He stood up, boldly grabbed his beloved doctor's arm, and pulled him in for a tight, tight hug, not daring to let go.

"Stone! I- what is the meaning of this... Affection?! Let me go this instant!" Despite his protests, Robotnik didn't fight the hug at all. "I can't- stop smothering me, you imbecile!"

Stone just held the doctor closer, burying his face in the other coat. "It's to make up for the lack of hugs in all these years of your life when I wasn't there, sir." He never was this bold but... He needed Robotnik to know he didn't have to be alone.

"I- I don't need-! I... Stone you-" Finally, Robotnik groaned in defeat, slowly returning the hug with equal force, making Stone's heart race faster than he thought possible. "Don't get used to this, agent. And don't you dare tell another living soul."

"Of course not sir. It's our secret."

#my writing #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog movie #sonic movie #agent stone #doctor robotnik #stobotnik #aaaa

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theresawritesstuff · 9 months

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Prompt: The one and only time their kids do stand up is for Lenny and Midges 20th wedding anniversary in 1982.

So...this clocked in at around 5k words. I had fun 😅 Written as something that could be compliant with Guess Who's Coming to Yom Kippur but not necessary to have read the fic.

Enjoy! (It's long. Seriously. You've been warned)

"You both comfy? Having a good time?" Susie tutted uncharacteristicly.

"We're great, Susie," Lenny assured her, his arm draped contentedly across the back of Midge's chair.

"Everything is perfect," Midge agreed.

Susie nodded. "Okay good. Now do me a favor and sit tight. You aren't going to want to miss this."

"Miss what?"

Midge looked up curiously as the jazzy baseline of a familiar song began to play, announcing her youngest daughter's ascent to the stage she'd been told just happened to come with the venue.

A hush fell over the room as the teenager cleared her throat, taking her place at the microphone.

"You might be wondering…" she drawled with a mischievous smirk. "Who throws their parents an anniversary party then gets up on stage to make fun of them? I mean, who does that?

"Who stands in the middle of a ballroom in front of friends, family, colleagues, caterers, social acquaintances we've never heard of but Mama insisted should be invited–You know who you are–and decides to do a mediocre version of what they're known best for world wide? Who does that?"

She shrugged playfully to the crowd of guests.

"Apparently we do."

She smiled as a ripple of chuckles made its way through the room.

"Did you know about this?" Midge whispered to Lenny.

Her husband shook his head, watching their daughter work the room.

"Good evening everyone. I'm Lilah Weissman-Bruce and my siblings and I, with some assistance from Susie Meyerson and Associates, are your hosts and entertainment for the evening.

"Tonight, as you know, we are gathered to celebrate the twentieth wedding anniversary of Miriam Weissman-Bruce, AKA Mrs. Maisel to the comedy world, and her forever lover Lenny. Her words, not mine. Blechhh!"

Lilah mimed gagging over the phrase briefly before winking at her parents, subtly gauging their reactions.

"But seriously folks. My parents are so in love with each other even after all these years. And I can tell you first hand…It's as adorable as it is nauseating."

Susie barked a laugh in agreement while Midge shook her head, smiling proudly.

"I'm not saying they can't keep their hands to themselves but fair warning Mama is three–three?" She looked to her mother for confirmation on the number, then kept going, "Three glasses of champagne into the evening and just got back from a week of shows on the west coast so, you know, make sure to knock before you get your coat from coat check. Or use the bathroom. Or refresh some of the hors d'oeuvres in the walk-in fridge and I'm giving them ideas…"

The laughs grew at her daughter's deadpanned horrified realization. "Great…"

Lenny smirked, pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek.

"Please don't get randy in the walk-in. Please," Lilah begged, earning another laugh.

She took the mic from the stand so that she could move about the performance space a bit more, grinning to the crowd.

"Like I said, for those who don't know me, I'm Lilah Weissman-Bruce. Those of you that do know me probably know me as Birdie or better yet, the answer to the question 'what would happen if we left Lenny and Midge alone together for a weekend?'"

She held up an arm, waving in a jazz hand fashion.

"Ta-da! Mystery solved!"

She smiled to herself, taking in the laughs.

"Yes, I am the youngest of the Maisel-Weissman-Bruce horde. The progeny of not just one but two stand up comedians. Please take a moment to marvel at how mentally stable I am."

She held for applause, waving it off in mock modesty after a moment of reveling. "Thank you! I'm stunned too."

She shook her head, slowly pacing the stage. "In all fairness, Mama and Dad have always been very conscious about how their careers impact our family and made sure we knew growing up that we could choose whatever career paths we wanted. Just as long as it wasn't comedy."

The friends they'd made in show business over the years laughed especially hard at that punchline.

Lilah waved a playful finger. "That didn't stop other people from suggesting it though! I think I was about two or three years old the first time I remember visiting Mama on set and having a sound tech hand me a microphone out of the morbid curiosity to see what I would say.

"It was one of those big ones with the foam cover on top like the most perfect scoop of ice cream. You know the ones…"

She turned thoughtfully to the microphone currently in her grasp.

"I remember looking at it. Holding it in my hands. Feeling the weight of it. Contemplating the gift I'd been given…

"And then I put it right in my mouth."

She mimicked taking a big bite of the microphone in her hand, earning a guffaw from Ethan near the dj station.

"It did not taste like ice cream!" she informed them. "Anytime anyone came within ten feet of me with a microphone after that I just screamed NO THANK YOU and ran."

She shot out her arm to illustrate the memory, grinning at her own joke.

She let out a sigh, shrugging. "So the fact that I'm holding this now should tell you what a rare treat this is. We've managed to avoid doing any sort of stand up over the years, my siblings and I. No school talent shows, no anonymous open mic nights, no multi generational acts for fundraisers. Nothing!

"But then this party started to come together and we started talking about ways we could make it extra special and we realized…these two are really hard to shop for. Like really hard to shop for.

"So then we decided, what the hell, just this once. For Mama and Dad. And all the people that have pestered us to do this since we were kinder…And only because Billy Joel was on tour when we called to try to book him for tonight. Man that would have been something, wouldn't it?"

She considered the microphone in her hands again.

"Although now that I've gotten over this not being ice cream, this isn't so bad…"

She smirked teasingly at her parents, breaking a little.

"No, no, I'm kidding. Promise! None of us kids are quitting our day jobs," she assured them.

For the rest of those gathered, she added,"Granted, I just wrapped up my senior year of high school, so I'd need to get a day job first, but if I had one I would not quit it to be a stand up comedian."

Lilah leaned an arm on the mic stand to confide in her captive audience for her next bit, waiting out the laugh.

"You know, people always have asked me 'So what do you want to be when you grow up?' Weird question, honestly. What do you want to be?

"When I was really little I told everyone I wanted to be a unicorn.

"Then as I got a little older, a little wiser, a little more understanding of how the world works I realized what a great opportunity I had…" she grinned wickedly to the crowd, "to utterly mess with people. So I started telling folks that I wanted to be a proctologist."

Lenny let out a sharp laugh, having forgotten that particular antic of years gone by until that moment. It was one she'd mainly saved for Midge's colleagues over his own.

"No one expected that from the cute little seven year old hanging out in mommy's make up chair! I always loved when I could get an old guy to ask me too. I'd be laughing for days from the looks on their faces. Weeks if they asked me when Susie was in the room!"

"You and me both, kid," Susie muttered proudly into her drink.

Lilah let out a contented sigh, growing more serious.

"I'm starting college soon though so I've had to give my career options some real serious consideration…And you know? I think I've finally decided."

She paused, drawing up the suspense.

"I think I'm gonna go with being a unicorn."

She grinned to herself, giving a little bow as the laughter erupted around her.

"Thank you so much. Now give it up for the real future Doctor Weissman-Bruce. My sister Esther!"

The applause swelled as the sisters exchanged a hug and passed off the microphone for the next set.

Esther looked around the room, exhaling her nerves. "Hi," she chuckled, shaking her head at her little sister. "Hi, I'm Esther."

Her siblings let out a loud whoop from the side of the room along with the applause of their guests.

"Thanks," she smiled, checking the note card in her hand.

"Um… You know…It's a funny thing growing up having everyone think your parents are super cool. Because they're really not.

"I mean, okay, they are," she conceded, "but also they're not.

"To everyone else out there, they're the Marvelous Mrs Maisel and the Legendary Lenny Bruce. To me, they're just my dorky parents."

She fought back a smirk at the rumble of laughter, starting to get more comfortable on stage.

"I remember when I was really little, before these two even got married, I was out somewhere with Mama, probably shopping, and this woman, this fan, came up to us for an autograph.

'Mrs Maisel! Mrs Maisel!'

"And I remember I just looked up at her like she was crazy and said 'She's Miriam Weissman now' and kept walking."

Her smile grew as she picked her mother's laugh out of the crowd.

"I didn't know what a stage name was. But I sure as hell knew Mama had changed her name back after the divorce and no one was going to undermine that on my watch."

She waved a dismissive hand at the laughs, segueing.

"But no, weird fan encounters aside, I think these two love birds did a good job raising us, giving us a semi-normal childhood. Or at least as close to normal as this family can really get.

"It was more perplexing than anything else really. The fan stuff.

"Friends would always be so starstruck by people that I knew as my parents lame work friends. Sorry to those of you that applies to. I'm sure you were very hip," she apologized, getting another laugh.

"But seriously! Think about when you were a kid and your parents got together with their friends and every adult would just awkwardly start their conversation with you with 'Wow you've gotten taller since I last saw you. How old are you now?' while trying to mask their horror as they come face to face with the passage of time and the fact that they too are growing older…"

She paused, letting the melodramatics sit for a moment.

"Now add in more gin and talks about contract negotiations and you've got every barbecue that Mike Carr has ever hosted."

Mike slapped the table, shaking his head fondly at the call out while those that knew him laughed along.

"See? Now we're on the same page," Esther beamed. "And don't get me wrong, these two are very funny individuals. I get that. But they're still my parents. Do you laugh at everything your parents say? No! Because we're not supposed to! The parent child dichotomy negates so much of what other people find hilarious.

She flipped the card in her hand, continuing.

"Everyone always assumes that every family dinner is this big laugh fest.

"And yeah sure, we joke around when we're together but it wasn't like there was a tight ten happening every night over the brisket. We still had a 'no dick jokes at the table' rule growing up. Although I guess that rule isn't usually for the parents but other than that they're surprisingly normal, I swear!"

She smiled at the uproar of laughter, deciding to pocket the cards.

"Yes, they are famously filthy comics, professionally. But our home life was it's own weird brand of wholesome. Dad still tried to help us with our homework and took us out for ice cream when we had a bad day. Mama still threw us birthday parties and did the mandatory PTA carnivals and took us shopping for school clothes.

"Speaking of which, can I have a brief moment of sympathy for my teenage self for having to go up against Mrs Maisel in arguments about what was cool in the world of fashion? I mean come on!!! The woman is so well known for her sense of style that before any of us borrow something from her closet we need to check to make sure the Smithsonian hasn't already called dibs on it."

Lenny gave Midge's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, chuckling softly.

"We've come to understand one another a little better on that front now that I'm an adult but as a kid it was like oil and water. She would always try to find us these ritzy designer clothes and I just wanted the bargain bin tie dye and the cheap earrings from the school craft show!"

Esther looked over to see her mother wincing at the memory as she laughed along with everyone.

"I know! It's amazing we both survived," she smirked. "Poor Dad had to referee so many arguments he had no strong opinions on either side of at all. And that's an achievement in and of itself really. Finding something Lenny Bruce is the neutral party on.

"Politics? Nope. Literature? No chance. Should people be allowed to put ketchup on a hotdog? You'll be hearing about it for at least half an hour! But put him in the war zone of a Weissman fashion smackdown? He's suddenly the calmest, quietest mediator there is. If wars were fought over the pros and cons of pattern mixing, we could send that man in and have world peace within the week! He certainly saved our household from going ballistic multiple times between 1970 and 1975.

"Forget all his humanitarian work, that alone should win him the Nobel Peace Prize!"

Midge reached over to pat his knee and whisper a silent Thank you, resting her head against his shoulder.

Esther continued, once the laughs and applause died down. "Tensions over my teenage fashion foibles aside, it actually has been really incredible being able to call these two my parents. They helped me believe I could achieve anything I set my mind to, with enough persistence of character. They showed me what it means to stand up for what's right, even when everyone else is sitting down. They taught me how to laugh when things don't go to plan.

"And most importantly, they taught me that love, that family will see you through any season of hardship or heartbreak... Even if you still insist on wearing the craft show earrings."

Midge shook her head, meeting her daughter's eyes across the room with love.

Esther returned the gaze in kind, placing a hand gratefully over her heart.

"Alright, Ethan, it's your turn. Get on up here and get it over with. You can finish your cake later! There's like five of them."

She smirked to herself as her brother meandered up from the dj station, swiping the plate of cake from his hand.

Ethan sighed dramatically as he took the stage, adjusting the mic stand height to his level.

"Hi. I'm Ethan. Most of you probably knew that," he began, getting his bearings. "Being the oldest, I actually remember a little bit of what it was like back when these two were first dating. Back when we still lived with my grandparents.

"I remember the day I met Lenny. It was notable even back then because Mama never brought any of her prior romantic prospects into our lives. Never invited any dates for a family dinner. Wouldn't even talk about them in front of us really. But Lenny was different.

"I remember I was nose deep in an issue of Detective Comics and Grandma Rose came over and said 'Ethan, say hello to your mother's friend Mr. Bruce'..."

Lenny covered a smirk, knowing full well where his son was going with this.

"I looked up. Saw this tall, strong jawed, dark haired fellow in a dark suit.

"I looked back at my comic book. Back up at Mr. Bruce…

"And thought 'Holy shit! My mom is dating Batman!'"

Ethan smiled to himself, listening to the distinct laughs of those who knew the story and those who did not.

"They tried to deny it, but the more I learned about the guy, the more I was convinced this man was the caped crusader.

"No, seriously! Stay with me on this. He only worked at night," Ethan said, counting the list of evidence on his fingers. "He always wore black suits. Sometimes he had those dark circles like he'd been up all night, fighting for truth and justice.

"I actually caught him on our fire escape one morning changing his clothes. Clearly solid proof–I could only assume he'd already stashed his costume. Heroes do that sort of thing, you know. Totally plausible. No other reason he would have been out there, just outside Mama's room at seven AM. Clearly this was the crime fighter I'd been reading about."

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Oh to be five again…

Lenny covered his face with his hand, fighting back a laugh, shrugging sheepishly.

"Then there was the whole name thing! Mr. Bruce. Master Bruce. Grandpa Abe had told me about how sometimes they change people's names in the media to protect someone's identity. Their secret identity. I had a solid case!

"Mom's new boyfriend is Batman. Sweet. Can't wait to tell my friends.

"But then I started wondering… Is my mother a former supervillain?

"I mean, Batman is always going up against folks like the Joker, the Riddler… Mama goes out late all the time, doesn't talk about what she's doing and people keep calling her the Comedienne.

"Plus! I overheard my grandparents saying Mama got arrested again.

"My mother. Arrested. For crime!

"It was a distressing revelation. But then I remembered…Batman doesn't hang out with Bad Guys. Clearly the power of love had brought my mother back to the light. She couldn't be a villain. Not anymore at least. And that was good enough for me. If she hit up a bank or two and got away with it, yeah, okay, I can get over that. More toys for us and maybe she might stop yelling at the milkman.

"And if she wasn't a supervillain…that meant she must be Robin!

"I still don't know where they hid the batmobile but I'm gonna find it one of these days. There's only so many places you can park a car in Manhattan."

He cleared his throat, looking at his feet as he gathered his thoughts.

"I know now that back then a lot of people didn't see Lenny quite so heroically. But I always have. In more than just the way that most kids see their dads as heroes. Because he really was out there standing up for truth. For justice. Not in the nice, tidy, easily palatable way everyone liked to read about in the newsprints, but out of a genuine, heroic belief that we could do better as a nation. As individuals.

"And even more importantly to me, he made Mom smile again. Really smile after God knows how long. Nothing could be more heroic than that."

Midge reached over, taking Lenny's hand.

"I think these two have saved each other quite a bit over the years they've been together. They're the real dynamic duo, if you ask me. And I couldn't be prouder to call them my parents.

"Happy Anniversary you two."

He took a deep breath as applause filled the room, working through the swell of emotions in his chest.

"Okay! I'm gonna go circle the block one more time just to make sure today wasn't the day they brought the batmobile out of storage. In the meantime, give it up for my sister Kitty!

Kitty took the stage, patting Ethan on the shoulder as she passed him on the steps.

"Fuck, Ethan, you weren't supposed to make us cry. Jesus…" she admonished, wiping at her eyes. "That was my plan!"

She grinned at the chuckle from the equally emotional crowd.

"Hi, I'm Kitty. I'm the closer for the evening. Hey let's give these two another hand, am I right? Twenty years!"

She shook her head, exhaling as she collected herself, moving the mic stand back down.

"I remember when Dad first told my grandma that he was moving back to New York with me, she thought he was nuts.

"He hadn't really done the whole single dad thing on his own before. The obscenity laws were still their own levels of obscene. The lawyers didn't come cheap. He was still in his first year of getting clean. It meant moving me across the country, building a whole new life.

"It was a lot.

"But I was all in on the idea. I couldn't wait. I was so ready to be a Weissman!

"He hadn't even proposed yet but I knew he was going to. I just knew it. And not just because I really, really, really wanted him to so I could play dress up in Mom's closet anytime I wanted. Back before we had to fight the Smithsonian for some of the good stuff."

She winked at her parents, fiddling with the mic chord.

"No…You could tell just looking at the two of them that they were meant to be together. Or at least I could.

"I remember it was like this light had turned on inside them anytime they got together. They just radiated this…magic. They still do. I hope that makes sense. I've never been fully able to put it into words…Which is why I brought slides!"

Those that knew her as the family shutterbug murmured a mix of chuckles and good natured groans.

"Oh come on now! You're gonna love this," Kitty teased.

She pulled up the first slide, a snapshot of a much younger version of her parents in a midtown club, chatting over drinks, the energy between them clearly flirtatious.

"I did a little digging for this set," she admitted. "Being that this is an anniversary party, it felt appropriate to build a sort of visual history of their love story. So let's start here. In 1959.

"I found this in a collection by an old club photographer who worked at one of the spots Dad had played around that time. Now I think we can all agree these two look pretty smitten."

She held up a finger, grinning in amusement. "One small hiccup though…"

Midge ducked her head while Lenny smirked impishly, recognizing the night it was from.

"Dad was not Mom's date that particular evening in 1959. He was the entertainment."

She clicked to the next slide, revealing a shot of her father performing on stage with Midge visible in the audience, watching enraptured.

"This handsome stretch next to her, however, was her date. Poor guy…I grilled Susie for the details because I was desperately curious. She said this guy was a doctor! Like top of his field, owns a brownstone and a Picasso kind of doctor. Not bad, Mom.

"Didn't stand a chance though, did he? Not with Lenny 'steal your girl' Bruce smoldering at her from behind the microphone."

She clicked back to the previous slide. "I mean look at this! You knew she was on a date, mister! Shameless."

She tutted in faux exasperation, rolling her eyes.

"Like I said. Meant to be together. It's pretty obvious looking back, isn't it?

"And it wasn't just Mom looking for a better date."

She clicked a few slides forward, revealing another club shot, this time of Midge and Susie looking positively miserable.

"I'm pretty sure this was New Year's, 1961. Rough night, from the looks of it."

She clicked to the next slide, a snapshot from the same night, possibly taken only minutes after, with Midge smiling brightly in Lenny's embrace.

"That is until Dad pulled a sneak attack and surprised her by flying back early. See what I mean? Magic! Look at those faces!"

"We were pretty cute," Lenny murmured.

"Were?" his wife teased, earning a smirk.

Kitty leaned on the mic stand, addressing the room.

"I gotta tell you, I owe some of you here the nicest gift baskets for capturing these next moments way back when and for sharing these with me over the last few months on the sly. But until I get around to it…"

She clicked to the next slide, revealing a shot of the pair lounging, mid conversation on the stage of an empty Carnegie Hall.

"After Dad's famous midnight show at Carnegie, graciously provided by Alan! Not much of a runner but he was quick with a shutter. I'd say the bail money was worth it."

Lenny barked a laugh at one of his oldest friend's expense.

Kitty grinned cheekily at her adoptive uncle in the crowd, moving on.

"Skating outside 30 Rock. Ethan, Esther, and I were there too. Also my first memory of snow! Thank you, Mike, for pulling this gem from the archives.

"A quick aside, I believe that's Gordon drunk off his ass on the ice in the background there. Who let you out there without skates, man?"

She clicked to the next, an image of Midge and Lenny standing cozily together, hand in hand outside a familiar Chinese restaurant.

"We could never figure out why exactly they liked this place so much, but thank you Imogene for capturing their go to anniversary spot. Even when they definitely could afford somewhere more upscale."

She clicked over to a shot of Midge and Lenny laughing on the front steps of the Weissman family bungalow, eating ice cream straight out of a multi-gallon tub from the Steiner soda shoppe.

"Oh I love this one! Here's Mom and Dad on our first trip to the Catskills just before they got engaged. And right after they got temporarily banned from the soda shoppe."

"I thought we paid for that," Lenny wondered to Midge.

"We did eventually."

Kitty clicked to the next slide.

"Their first dance at their wedding. I don't have a joke for that one, I just like it."

The next image to come up behind her was one of a hospital room, her parents both asleep, Midge half upright with a newborn in her arms.

"Oh here's when Birdie was born! So in love," Kitty cooed. "And so so so tired."

She laughed to herself, glancing up at the picture before turning back to the crowd.

"For those of you who are curious, no Dad was not the one responsible for the nickname. That one we can blame on our brother. When Grandma brought us to visit Ethan heard her cry for the first time and thought there was a wild bird stuck in the hospital. So not Dad's fault.

"Although he picked it up and ran with it pretty quickly, come to think of it. Dad I gotta ask... Kitty, Birdie…Did you really just want a pet? Is that what it was?"

Lenny let out a laugh, shaking his head at the call out.

"No, we know you love us, we've established this," Kitty assured him quickly, "but come on man! If we'd had a little brother what would you have called him? Fish?"

Kitty smiled at her parents, enjoying herself as she clicked to the next image.

"Moving on to 1964 with possibly the most colorful ensemble Dad has ever worn in his life…" She revealed a shot of both parents in near screen ready duplicates of the Jolly Holiday ensembles from Mary Poppins, all four kids completing the look with matching penguin costumes.

"Our first group Halloween costumes as a family! He looks good right? The blue bowtie is my favorite, honestly. Dick what do you think? I think he looks great."

Kitty grinned at the memory.

"We got so much candy that year. Grandma Shirley made those penguin costumes for us and put pockets all along theinside so we could use those when our bags got too full. Genius really. Until they got too heavy and then we really did have to waddle home."

She let out a sigh, segueing.

"In addition to actively creating some of the more notable moments of our pop culture, these two have also been caught canoodling during some of the more significant moments in our nation's history over the past two decades."

She brought up an image of the pair in a lip lock backstage.

"Here they are making out backstage at Ed Sullivan while the Beatles made their US debut."

"They were playing our song." Midge shrugged unapologetically.

Kitty pulled up an image of another kiss, this one of her parents hanging out of the window of the Steiner bungalow, holding a pair of makeshift rabbit ears under a full moon.

"And during the Moon landing."

The next image contained a celebratory kiss over a newspaper headline.

"And when Nixon resigned," Kitty smirked.

She pulled up another slide, this one of the pair outside 30 Rock in the mid-seventies.

"Here they are outside after one of the first episodes at SNL. The night we met Gilda!"

She beamed, hand over her heart as she looked out at their friend in the crowd.

She pulled up the final slide, her father kissing Midge's hair as they watched proudly from the bleachers.

"And at Birdie's graduation just last month."

She grinned over at her little sister with a shrug. "That last one might not seem significant to the rest of America but to us, to Mom and Dad, it was a big moment. Their youngest child graduating. And soon… they will be empty nesters…How will they pass the time?"

She took a bow as their guests applauded, blowing a kiss to her parents.

"Thank you so much. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed our act because we're never doing it again. Now let's eat the rest of that cake!"

#midge x lenny #prompt fill #Long ficlet #Possibly too long?#The chatterbox gene is strong #I've been writing this for ages #midgelenny #Weissman-Bruce kids #Edit: forgot to add the song before lol

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withloveajaxx · 2 years

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OMG HI i hope its ok to req no rush or anythinf!!! I wanted to ask if you could write spiderman childe x reader headcanons??CAUSE I REALLY LIKED THE SPIDEY CHILDE X READER WHERE HE SWUNG READER AROUND!! I HOPE THATS FINE HAVE A NICE DAYYYYyyy

if i was dying on my knees

genre: spiderman! childe x gn! reader fluff

warnings: mentions of wounds and nuidity (like once towards the end because of childe's teasing)

summary: if spiderman was hurt in any way, there's only one person he'd go to.

note: hello nonnie!! i'm so sorry it took me ages to finish this request :(( i added short hcs at the beginning and wrote a full on fic for your request since i found that the hcs were a little short and it didn't serve spidey childe justice HSJDKSKD. the fic is 1.2k words,,, a but lengthy cuz i got carried away but ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND THIS BEING A FIC WITH HCS INSTEAD T-T hope you enjoy this and have a great day too anon ^^

quality time with ajax isn't so rare. but it's also not as common as you would think.

sure you go to the same school, you have a few study dates here and there.

but the fact still stands that he's spiderman and, unfortunately, there's a lot of crime and small town problems that he has to take care of.

to solve yall's little quality time problem, you have routine date nights every weekend that you both never skip.

it's a simple movie night over at your apartment with snacks, blankets, dvds, and most importantly, cuddles <3

but your date nights don't always go according to plan....

it was supposed to be a regular weekend date night for you and ajax. there was takeout laid out atop the glass coffee table in the middle of the living room, a movie playing on the television. you had even taken out some time to place your guys' favourite blanket and pillows on the sofa so you could both completely unwind and relax comfortably in each other's arms.

everything was ready and set. the only thing missing was your own significant other.

despite the television playing a loud action movie in the background, you could only focus on the endless ticking of the clock as it got later into the night. the absence of ajax's presence made your heart pound with anxiety and concern.

(more utc!)

even if ajax had piles of school work to do, even if he was feeling tired from his work, he would always make it for your routine little date nights. it was the only way he could spend some precious time with you since he was always so busy helping the city as the infamous hero, spiderman. so there was only ever one reason for him to be late for your date nights, and that's if he was fighting or saving someone from danger.

you know ajax has fought or done heroic acts countless of times. yet that still doesn't stop you from worrying that something might have gone wrong. with the nature of his line of work, how could you not worry?

as you begin to further dwell on your concerns, a loud knock at the window interrupts the millions of racing thoughts running through your head. you hurriedly clamber off the couch, rushing to open the apartment window.

there's only one person who would possibly come knocking at your window this early into the morning.

"hey, love." ajax's familiar voice greets you, but it's unstable, his breathing shallow and uneven. he's being much more careful than he usually is when he's entering your apartment in this way and, more than that, he has one arm wrapped around his middle.

there was evidently something wrong and it made your heart drop to your stomach.

"ajax, what happened to you?" you frantically asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to assist him into your living room. your eyebrows are furrowed in nothing but worry and your frown in disapproval when the latter lets out a weak laugh at your panic, as if the situation at the moment was nothing serious.

"got a little scratched up," he huffs out, wincing slightly when he tries to straighten himself up from his half curled position. "but… i managed to get your favourite snacks before getting into some trouble," he adds, lifting the arm around your shoulder to reveal a plastic bag full of all the candies, chips, and even drinks that you loved.

unfortunately, his feeble attempt to lighten the mood did not work as you helped him settle onto the couch.

it was obvious to him that you were upset. he watches as you wordlessly leave and return with the first aid kit that, at this point, you've grown so accustomed to using on him and it makes his heart twists and tightens in his chest with a heavy feeling of guilt.

for someone who was usually so chatty and casual, ajax can't find any words to say as he watches you ever so gently lift up his suit to patch up the wound on his stomach. his tongue is heavy in his mouth, lips sealed in a thin frown when he feels your hand tremble slightly against him.

not only is he silent, but it seems as if you can't find anything to say either. you don't want to know how dangerous the enemies were or how they had even managed to land a strike at your seemingly untouchable significant other.

however, you can't bear the tense silence in the room. any more second you spent in silence only made the unshed tears in your eyes that much harder to keep from spilling over.

"are you still okay? doesn't hurt too much?" you whisper, fearing that if you spoke any louder, your voice would crack.

"i'm fine, baby. relax, i've had it worse before." ajax can immediately tell that wad was the wrong thing to say when he catches you furiously swiping away the tears that began to stream down your face.

"i know you've been through worse, ajax," you mutter, trying your hardest to keep your voice level, to swallow the thick lump that's stuck in your throat. "but that doesn't mean it isn't painful to see you like this."

noticing that you were practically done dressing his wound, he gently tugs you up from where you were kneeling on the floor to sit beside him. as much as you wanted to shy yourself away from him, you can’t help but lean into his touch when his hands come to tenderly hold your face.

“i know it hurts you to see me like this,” he states, thumbs brushing away the tears that continue to stream down your face. “but i came back to you in one piece, yeah? look at me, love.” he ducks his head down a bit to catch your downcasted eyes. “i’m okay.”

“you came back to me in one piece now, but what if you don’t next time?” you ask, unable to stop a small sob from escaping you. “what if you get so badly hurt that i can’t patch you up? or what if you just don’t come back at all?”

at this, ajax’s frown deepens. he pulls you closer to him, his slender hands combing through your hair as he cradles your head towards the part of his chest where you can feel and hear his heart beat.

“i can’t promise that i’ll always come back to you perfectly fine. no matter how strong i am, there will always be people who are stronger,” he mutters, his lips coming to permanently rest on the crown of your head. “but i can promise you that i will always, and i mean always, come back to you.”

you picked up your head from his chest, bringing one of your hands up to extend your pinky at him and spoke, “pinky promise?”

“pinky promise.” he links his pinky with yours without any hint of hesitation, going as far as to peck your lips to seal his promise. “you aren’t that lucky, love. no matter how annoying i get, you’re never going to get rid of me that easily.”

a huge wave of relief washes over ajax when you let out a wet chuckle, lightly slapping his arm in retaliation. he affectionately pecks your cheek one last time before slowly getting up from the couch.

“now, i believe we haven’t finished our date night yet. why don’t you prepare the snacks and i’ll just freshen up a bit and change, yeah?”

“are you sure you’re okay, ajax? you don’t need help changing or anything?”

“oh, honey. if you wanted to see me naked you could have just asked,” he teases, laughing in amusement when you try to throw a couch pillow at him.

even though the night may not have started out as planned, you were relieved that ajax was safe and sound beside you. his head was lolled onto your shoulder, breathing finally even as he slept peacefully through the movie that you were currently playing. at least he was with you, and especially after your little moment tonight, your heart was at ease knowing he would never leave.

taglist (send an ask to be added or removed): @dawndelion-winery @tiredsleep @codename-hiraeth @mari-san-cant @mininji @artificial-heartache

#iely's writing #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfics #childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #childe comfort #childe fluff #childe angst #childe headcanons #childe imagines #childe fanfic #06/04/2022

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simp999 · 1 year

Text

I'm so proud of you, Pt. 2☆

Ship: Giacomo x GN! Reader

Series: Pokémon

Word count: 4.2k(9.1k total)

A/N: My longest fic yet, I stayed up 'til 4 am for this, I wrote every lyric out myself help

Warnings: swears in song lyrics, skipped some lyrics to shorten it up. You can skip playing the songs, but I'd suggest playing the last one for sure!

Themes: Comfort, fluff, friends to lovers

Taglist: @ultranimallover33 @5centsanhour

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Giacomo woke up to rays of sun shining into his room, getting too bright for him to continue snoozing. He laid on his side, his arms in front of him, almost as if he should have been holding something. …Hey, hold on a sec. He should be holding something, or rather, someone.

‘No, no, no! This can’t be right, it was too real! It couldn’t have just been a dream,... right? I finally had the guts to confess and it was just in a dream?’ His face starts to feel warm, and he begins to feel his eyes sting slightly. Giacomo attempts to smile to himself.

‘Man, I sure am hopeless.’

Giacomo is about to roll back over to fall asleep to waste the rest of the day away, but an odd smell interrupts him. It smells like food. Tasty food. Pancakes? His nose forces his body to sit up and turn around to look at the kitchen area of his dorm out of curiosity. There he spots you, slightly swaying your hips and bopping your head to the sound coming from- are those his headphones? Sneaky.

He can’t help but notice his heart skip a beat, or two. Maybe three if he pays close attention. Giacomo lets out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding in, and silently makes his way over to you with a smile on his face.

He gently puts his arms around your waist and his head in the crease of your shoulder, reassuring him that yes, you’re really here. You, on the other hand, were completely focused on your pancakes and may or may not have gotten spooked by Giacomo. You pull his headphones off of your ears to rest on the counter next to you, clicking the button on them to pause the music. Bluetooth headphones sure are nice.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty.”

Giacomo begins to sway a little, just like last night.

“Mm, can I help?” His voice is deep and muffled, given that he just woke up and has his head in the crook of your neck.

“Nah, m’ almost done.” You begin to put some carefully cut strawberries on top of your guys’ pancakes. Giacomo glances over at the nearby clock that reads 11:09. ‘No point in going to school now, I guess.’ Not that he minds spending the rest of his day with you, of course.

“How long've you been up?” Man, you could definitely get used to his morning voice. And clinginess.

“Hmm, since around seven or so.” You had to thank your mental alarm clock for that. It can be useful, you’re just about never late for school, but it even happens on days off at times. There were so many mornings where you’d wake up every hour, or even half an hour, in fear of missing school and being a 'bad example'. You finish up the pancakes by sprinkling a tiny bit of icing sugar on top, asking Giacomo to bring the maple syrup to the table so he can decide how much he wants.

“Damn, this is hella good.” He was genuinely surprised at how good the food is. Yes, it did smell amazing, but he’s also seen your sandwich skills. Yeah, not too hot when it comes to those.

You snicker at his phrasing and tell him that it’s one of your favorite breakfasts for the days when you’ve got time to yourself. Which doesn’t happen often, so it’s more of a weekend kinda thing, but this is an exception.

“And Gia?” He looks up at you from his place, his mouth completely stuffed and you can barely hear an ‘mhmm?’ from him. “Thank you. For yesterday, I mean.” You now have his full attention, “All this ‘trying to be a good example’ and being ‘the perfect champion’ isn’t something I can do anymore. It’s not like I’m just gonna quit being champ or anything, but I’ll try to take it easy from now on. Which means I won’t care about what others might think of me anymore, and I’ll be more outgoing and expressive in public. Y’know, let the people think and do whatever they want.”

“Cool.”

You look at him expecting to get more of an answer, but you look over to him only to see him shove even more pancakes in his mouth. Okay sure, that’s cute and all but come on, man.

“Gia…”

“Mhrm?” Once again, very muffled. You’re so close to laughing but you’ve got to keep your composure!

“This means I’d like to hang out more, outside of just our dorm rooms n’ stuff.”

He’s quick to chew up the last bit of food he had in his mouth, (and may have choked on it a bit).

“Oh.”

He looks at you like you’re kidding, even a little. You know that people are going to assume stuff about the two of you, and are probably going to make fun of you for hanging out with a former ‘bad guy’, right? He can’t tell what emotion was written across your face, but he could tell you weren’t joking.

“Wait like, for realsies? I’m not exactly a good example.”

You sigh, it seems this really isn’t getting through his thick skull. You grab his hand.

“Yes, for realsies. I mean it when I say I don’t care what they think anymore. And I’d say you teaching that new student guitar made you a perfect example, sweetheart. Just depends on the subject.”

He flushes a little at the mention of that scene, you remember him teaching that kid? That was forever ago. Right around the time you guys first started meeting up to battle, right? Guess you really meant it. Yet again, his heart can’t seem to slow down. So you guys will be hanging out a lot more, then. That’s fine, that’s completely fine. He’s not nervous about that, not at all. Why would he ever be nervous, huh? Not like you guys never hung out outside of school. In public. With other people around.

It’s normal for your heart to feel like this, right?

Man, you’re good at making him feel weak.

He stands up from his chair, collecting all of the dishes you two just dirtied. After he clears his mind a little, he’s back in reality.

“Um, then, what now?” He fidgets with the sleeve of the hoodie he fell asleep in.

“Well, my team and I make it a point to go outside at least once a day, and it’s quite nice outside, so how about a walk to the park?”

Of course, he’s down to go. He grabs his hat and pokéballs from the corner of his desk and Mabosstiff is already at the door, wagging his tail, ears perked up at the mention of the word 'walk'.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mabosstiff is enjoying the walk and the warmth of the sun, while Giacomo notices a slight irritated frown on your face. He asks if something’s up, and you know that you said that you wouldn’t be worrying about stuff like this, but there’s somebody sneaking pictures of the two of you from behind. Seems like it might be someone from the journaling club. You’re not annoyed that they’re getting pictures of you and Giacomo and probably going to write about you two, actually, you might like the idea. Not that you'd admit that to Giacomo, though. But cutting in on your personal time with him? What a pain.

As soon as you mutter “Photographer, five O’clock.”, he’s making his way behind you to shield your body from the camera in one swift motion. You eventually notice that the dude left after giving up, but it seems Gia hasn’t. Makes sense, he’s probably not used to this. You bring your hand up to his and lock pinkies, bringing him back up beside you to show that you guys had nothing to worry about now. You begin to swing your arms back and forth absentmindedly.

‘Cute.’

The two of you finally make your way to the park and take a seat while your pokemon start to play. Skeledirge crawls over to Mabosstiff and they start to carefully duke it out. You find it funny how gentle Skeledirge is with its chomp, and the same goes for Mabosstiff when it uses ice fang instead of using crunch or payback.

The playfight reminds Giacomo of a certain dark-type user who’s supposed to come tour in town. He heard that he had another artist he respects from Unova coming to make a special appearance, too. Now, how is he supposed to bring this up casually? You still have a busy schedule, right?

“Hey, so, um-”

Is he asking you on a date? No. Why’s he so nervous about this then? It should just be pure excitement, given that this artist is his favorite.

“If you’re not busy tonight, I heard that there’s a concert going on in Levincia later if you wanna go?”

“Of course, who’s going to play?”

“A dark-type user from Galar, He does lots of rock and alternative music. Heard he just recently retired from being a gym leader, so now he’s got time to tour.”

“Piers?! Man, the one time I didn’t check online to see if he was touring he comes right here. He’s my favorite artist, know just about all of his songs, too. And yeah, Marnie, his younger sibling, took over the gym for him.” It was pretty hard to contain your excitement. With how busy you’ve been lately you haven’t had time to even consider concerts or anything of the like, but you’re taking a day off, so who cares? If you aren’t going to worry about what others think anymore, then why not take it to the max?

“Hey, think I have time to get a haircut and get some new clothes? I’d rather fit in with the crowd more there.”

“For sure, let’s go to the hairdresser’s and get you a new fit. Actually, would you be down for getting your makeup done too?” He’s shocked that you know the artist, and so very glad that you enjoy his music. Better make this a memory worth remembering, so he’ll give it all he has to make this the best concert you’ve ever gone to.

“Depends, what were you thinking?”

“Hmm, black eyeliner and messy black eyeshadow?”

“Bet.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next few hours were spent shopping for alternative style clothes. You’ve always loved punk and alternative fashion, but you haven’t been able to wear it comfortably while being champion. Layering accessories and wearing messy clothes is so fun, you’ve seriously gotta do this more often. Now that you’ve got your outfit on and your hair done, it’s time for the makeup. Your accent color is red, you wanted to match the hot pink that Piers has but it seems there aren’t lots of pink accessories with the style you were going for. One last look in the bathroom mirror and you walk out to see Giacomo on his swivel chair with all the makeup beside him.

“Damn, you look awesome. Ya’ ready for the makeup?”

You give him a nod and walk over to him, unsure of what to do next. He pats his lap, silently telling you to come sit. Once you’re all settled, he gets to work.

It doesn’t take long, he just has to messily put on some black eyeshadow, whatever thickness eyeliner you chose, and a bit of red under your eye to make it all pop- and match your accent color.

Okay sure, maybe he took a little longer since he couldn’t help but lock eyes a few times. And maybe steal a few glances at your lips. And when you asked if he had black lipstick? Even better, a good excuse for him to keep staring. And is that technically and indirect kiss? Never mind, forget about that. Maybe he took advantage of the situation and kept his hand on your chin and face whenever possible. But whatever, it’s all done now, and you look so “damn badass” right now.

You’re finally allowed to look in the mirror on the desk, and you’re elated with the outcome! The smile on your face says it all. It’s not one of those ‘kind, respectful’ smiles, it’s the one that shows all your teeth, and had you grinning from ear to ear. He’s surprisingly good at makeup, and your eyeliner is really even and sharp. You’re really about to go see your favorite artist with your favorite person. It doesn’t get much better than this, does it? You’re about to stand up to go make any last adjustments, but not before sneaking a quick peck on Giacomo’s cheek to thank him for his efforts. It takes him a minute to remember where he was and what he was doing, maybe even who he was.

“Hey, get back here! I gotta fix your lipstick now, idiot!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you finally make it to the concert, definitely not the first people there, but you’ve got a good view of the stage from where you are. The hype builds up as the crowd continues to grow, the time of the concert nearing.

“Get ready for a mosh pit with me and my party. Levincia, it’s time to rock!”

You grab Giacomo’s hand in anticipation, excited to finally be able to belt out the lyrics of your favorite songs at full volume.

“I’ve got a shotgun tongue”

“And tick like a timebomb,”

“All black everything.”

“I’ve got a switchblade wit”

“That cuts like a bitch,”

“And I think you two should meet.”

You take a deep breath in, and let it all out. Finally able to enjoy yourself and have fun for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I wanna BREAK FREE from my humanity,”

“I wanna release the animal in me.”

“B-B-B-Break free your curiosity,”

“You’re gonna give me what I need.”

Giacomo has never seen you like this before. He never expected this side of you. You just keep breaking that fake, perfect image of yours, and he’ll admit it’s pretty hot. The bright lights of the stage beaming on your face, and the giant smile written across your face contrasting the darkness of your clothing were seriously something to cherish. He’s only ever seen you this happy a few times. In, and out. Deep breaths. He’s ready for the next verse.

“I’ve got blood on my hands,”

“No guilt on my conscience.”

“The war in your path,”

“The sex in your violence,”

“ALL OF MY FLAWS, I WEAR THEM WITH HONOR!”

“A purple heartbreak for all we’ve suffered.”

“I am the enemy,”

“I am the enemy”

He could have sworn he heard your voice raise just for that one line.

Piers got the crowd to wave their hands, to jump, to yell, to do whatever he wanted the crowd to do and it was awesome.

“Give me liberty or death”

“Charge me more and pay me less,”

“I SAID GIVE ME LIBERTY OR DEATH!”

“Ahh f**k, it, just give me death.”

He chuckled a little at that line, it almost sounded like you made it personal when you sang it. The concert was going so well, he’s so glad you seemed to be enjoying it.

“ALL OF MY FLAWS I WEAR EM’ WITH HONOR!”

“A purple heartbreak for all we’ve suffered!”

“I am the enemy,”

“BRAND NEW NUMB!”

And that was the first song. Giacomo looked over to see you trying to catch your breath, him doing the same. What an experience, there sure isn’t anything that can match this, not even playing it as loud as you can at home can even compare.

The next song immediately had a catchy beat. It was pretty cool to immediately see everyone bounce almost in sync.

“I see a red door and I want it painted black,”

“No colors anymore, I want them to turn black.”

“I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes,”

“I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.”

“I see a line of cars, and they’re all painted black,”

“With flowers and my love both never to come back.”

The song gets even catchier, and Giacomo notices the way the chains on your belt jump while you bounce to the beat.

“I see people turn their heads and quickly look away.”

“Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day!”

You notice how he’s looking at you every so often and you smile at him, as well as offer a thumbs up to show that you’re doing good. He must be checking up on you, concerts can get overwhelming, after all. But you’re having the time of your life.

“Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts,”

“It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black!”

“No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue,”

“I could not foresee this thing happening to you!”

“If I look hard enough into the setting sun,”

“My love will laugh with me, before the morning comes.”

“I wanna see it painted, painted, painted black!”

“Black as night, black as coal”

“I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky.”

“I wanna see it painted, painted, Painted black!”

Lots of good tunes so far, you definitely remember blaring these songs from your headphones lots of times in the past.

The next song was very sudden, but as soon as you heard the first lyrics, you knew it was about to get hella loud.

“Suffocate, everything,”

“They complicate, everything,”

“They steal your fate, every day,”

“But you can’t believe it!”

“Take yourself far away from nothingness,”

“A million miles from emptiness.”

You loved to see the way Piers rocked out to all of his music, it was definitely his passion. He’s a lot more enthusiastic when he plays live than when he battles.

“Remember the days, of the innocence,”

“Before it came in waves?”

“Remember the trust? It was blown away,”

“Into oblivion.”

“Remember love,”

You glance over at Giacomo for a quick second, seeing him scream the lyrics at the top of his lungs. He sure does have a nice voice, you’d love to hear him make at least one cover. But the right song hasn’t come on yet.

“Remember hate, remember everything,”

“They said just to break you again.”

“Remember all, all of your enemies,”

“Forever and ever, they,”

“Suffocate everything, they”

“Complicate everything, they”

“Steal your fate, every day”

“But you can’t believe it!”

A taller person ends up in front of the two of you, and Giacomo can tell you’re struggling to see Piers. He motions for you to get on his back after bending down for you. You can’t hear him over the music, but can tell what he’s getting at. Now that you can both see, it’s back to enjoying the music.

“Forget the decay, and the endlessness,”

“Of all of our mistakes,”

“Forget all the blame, and the apathy,”

“And throw it all away.”

“FORGET THE PAIN,”

“FORGET THE HATE,”

“FORGET ALL YOUR ENEMIES,”

“THEY WILL NEVER BREAK YOU AGAIN!”

He could feel how powerful your voice was thanks to how close you were to him, he could feel your belly and chest move every time you took a deep breath.

“LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND YOU!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had now been nearly an hour since Piers had shown up on stage.

“You all better enjoy this, I don’t do encores, and we have a guest artist joining us for our last song.”

The crowd went crazy when a short girl with white hair walked onto the stage.

“Yeah! Ya’ll better get hyped for this last one!” Roxie's voice came over the speakers.

You looked at Giacomo in disbelief, he never mentioned having Roxie up on stage tonight! He just shrugged and smiled at you.

Your heads immediately turned to the stage as soon as you heard the first note. Another note along with the first lyric, and you were singing the hardest you have all night, hoping and praying to Arceus that Giacomo knew the lyrics. There was a good chance you’d lose your voice after this one, you’d definitely need to drink lots of water tomorrow.

“You’ll never take us alive!"

He looked over at you and started singing his part, almost like he was waiting for this moment the whole time. Not like he checked the setlist beforehand, or anything.

“We swore that death with do us part,”

“They’ll call our crimes a work of art!”

You started bouncing in place to the beat, so excited to be right here, right now, with him.

“You’ll never take us alive!”

“We’ll live like spoiled royalty, LOVERS AND PARTNERS,”

“PARTNERS IN CRIME!”

“Partners in crime~”

You grab his hand again and squeeze it tight, grounding yourself. This is one of your favorite songs, you had no idea he even knew this song existed.

“This, the tale of, reckless love, living a life of crime on the run,”

“I brush to a gun, to paint the states green, and red.”

“Everybody freeze!”

“Nobody move!”

“Put the money in the bag,”

“Or we will shoot!”

“Empty out the vault, and me and my doll will be on our way,”

“Our paper faces flood the streets,”

“And if the heat comes close enough, then we’ll play with fire, ‘cause!”

“You’ll never take us alive!”

“We swore that death will do us part,"

“They’ll call our crimes a work of art”

“You’ll never take us alive,”

“We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lover and partners,”

“Partners in crime!”

“Partners in crime~”

“Here we find our omnipotent outlaws, fall behind the grind tonight.”

“Left unaware that the lone store owner,”

“Won’t go down without a fight!”

“Where we gonna go?!”

“He’s got us pinned!”

“Baby I’m a little scared,”

“Now don’t you quit!”

“He sounded the alarm, I hear the sirens closing in!”

“Our paper faces flood the streets,”

“And if the heat come close enough, then we’re burning this place to the ground, ‘cause!”

“You’ll never take us alive!”

“We swore that death will do us part, they’ll call our crimes a work of art.”

“You’ll never take us alive,”

“We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners,”

“Partners in crime!”

“Partners in crime~”

(The Placerville sheriff’s police department, come out with your hands up, we have the place surrounded. Put your weapons down, PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN! Ready men, aim, FIRE!)

The thrill and excitement coursing through yours’ and Giacomo’s veins were the only thing keeping you two from getting flustered over the lyrics. This is like a dream come true. Was this basically you two shouting your love for each other? Yeah, and you both were none the wiser.

“The skies are black, with lead-filled rain,”

“A morbid painting on display!”

“This is the night the young love died,”

“Buried at each other’s side.”

“You’ll never take us alive,”

“We swore that death will do us part,”

“So now we haunt you in the dark,”

“You never took us alive,”

“We live as ghosts among these streets,”

“Lovers and partners, partners in crime!”

"Partners in criiiiiime~"

“PARTNERS IN CRIME!”

With both of you completely out of breath, no longer able to hear anything but the crowd cheering, you jump tackle Giacomo for a hug. He spins you around and you can barely tell what he’s saying, only thanks to the way you saw his lips move could you tell what he was saying.

“That was epic!”

He knew that you couldn’t hear him, so he figured he’d chat with you more after the concert.

People slowly started getting out of the way, you and Giacomo were pushing through the crowd, attempting to get some merch. You ended up getting ahead of the crowd, and you bought shirts, keychains, bracelets, and pins for yourself and him, and got him a CD of Piers’ latest album. You even managed to get a quick picture with Piers and Roxie after and got him to sign the CD.

Only after all the commotion was over and you guys were back at his dorm, you on his bed and him on his chair, did he start to think more clearly.

“Hey, you spent a ton today, didn’t you? You shouldn’t have bought me all of that stuff at the concert, at least let me pay you back. I could have bought my own stuff you know.”

You bring your head up from where it was resting.

“You can’t even buy half a potion, shut up.” You snicker a bit at that, always taking any opportunity to make fun of Gia. “But seriously, you’re like, the best. Ever. I should be thanking you.”

You look at him and your smile turns sincere.

“You deserve the best, love.”

His cheeks go pink at the nickname, but he’s not too flustered for a comeback.

“You are the best, sweetheart.”

Songs used in order:

Brand new numb - Motionless in white

Paint it, black - The Rolling Stones

Leave It All behind - Cult To Follow

Partners in Crime - Set it Off (my favorite band!!🔷️⏳)

5h 20m

Jan.25-26.23

112 notes · View notes

carboysandbikemen · 2 years

Text

It’s Like A Reward

Pairing: (Afab gender neutral) F1driver!Reader x Fabio Quateraro

Request: “Please could you write for a quartararo x f1driver!reader (any team), i can't seem to find even a fabio fic 😭😭”

Summary: You’ve been kind of seeing Fabio for a couple of months after hooking up over summer break, and decide to go visit him for his latest race weekend, rewarding him for his win by teasing him until he begs you to fuck him

Warnings: 18+

Word Count: 1867

Tags: sub!fabio, praise, top!reader, teasing, strap on mentioned once but then its fabio taking your cock.

Masterlist

It’s not been easy for you both to keep this under wraps, to see where this thing between you might go without it being all over the press. Sure, you posted him on your instagram over summer break when you went surfing together, but if Marquez and Ricciardo can go skiing then why would people question the two of you hanging out. It was only a matter of time before your paths crossed anyway given you’ve been at Ferrari two years now and Fabio is friends with a couple of others on the grid.

You just hadn’t expected to hit it off so well, which is why you decided to go visit him for his latest race to surprise him. Waiting until after the race so it’s not too much of a distraction for him, you pull him into a hug to congratulate him on his win.

“You did so well Fab!” You tell him, taking the opportunity to whisper in his ear that you'll have to reward him later, watching as his eyes widen slightly before you wink at him and let him go debrief with the team looking slightly flustered but grinning back at you as he goes.

You send him a text to tell him you’ll wait for him in his trailer, grinning to yourself imagining him reading it in the meeting, trying not to react in front of everybody.

By the time he makes it to your trailer he’s already looking flustered, practically pouncing on you the moment he closes the door, kissing you and threading his hands around you as you grab his waist, giving him the contact he needs by slipping your hands under his shirt and into his trousers to hold him.

“So.” He says a little breathless. “Reward?”

You laugh, looking down at his little face grinning up at you, all excited already.

“Yeah Fab. You did so well.” You lift his shirt off and run your hands over his chest, lightly brushing his nipples as you go. “I'm so proud of you.” You keep your touch light and teasing but not breaking contact yet. “Need to be rewarded for being such a good boy I think.”

You thumb open the button of his trousers, careful to not touch him too much, and strip him out of them, taking the time to run your hands up his thighs as you come back up. He’s hard already but you leave him in his underwear for now, your hands still lightly teasing his body.

He looks desperate for you already and you lead him into the bedroom and sit him on the bed, not sure he could take everything you plan to give him standing. Plus he looks so good looking up at you half naked and desperate.

You cup his face, trailing your fingers over his jaw and he parts his lips for you in anticipation, making you smile at what a good boy he is for you. You run your thumb over his bottom lip, slipping it inside his mouth slightly and he runs his tongue over it. When you run it over his lip again, this time wetting his lips and playing with his mouth he looks up at you, eyes wide.

“Go on, be a good boy.” You tell him as you slip two fingers into his mouth, running them over his teeth as he closes his lips around you and runs his tongue around you.

You can’t help but fuck his little mouth, enjoying the way he moans around you. You pull them out enough and pull his bottom lip down enough that he drools slightly down his chin and onto his chest, and you take a moment to be thankful you stripped him. He doesn't do anything though, just sits there and lets you play with him, shifting slightly as he gets more turned on.

“What do you want, Fabio?” You ask but fuck your fingers back into his mouth just to hear him moan.

“Do you want me to touch you?” You keep moving your fingers and he just moans his confirmation.

“Do you think you deserve it?” You pose it as a question but don't expect him to reply, playing some more with his slutty little mouth. “I think you might after today.”

At your words he looks up at you, desperation and relief clear in his eyes. You let your fingers drag out of his mouth again, and you rub some of his own spit onto his nipples, the cold air on his wet skin making them hard. He lets out a little whine that makes you want to bend him over and fuck him right here and now but you have to remind yourself that you have plans for him.

“Such a good needy little boy.” You say instead, moving to kneel between his legs, running your hand up his thighs and pinching his thigh making him whine again. He probably couldn't take it if you stopped touching him so it's a good job you don't plan to stop anytime soon.

Slowly you run your fingers over his covered cock, feeling how hard he is beneath your touch. You choose not to tease him about the little wet patch he's making already, he’s being so good for you that you think he deserves it by now.

You take off his underwear and lick up his cock, looking up to see his eyes close and head tilts back, a whine softly leaving his mouth. He runs his fingers through your hair as you grip his thigh and take him into your mouth.

Moaning around his cock makes his hands tighten in your hair, so you do it again just to see him get even more desperate for you.

He’s making so many noises for you, whining and saying ‘please’ and ‘yes’ over and over in soft little whispers. You love him like this, needy and desperate for any touch you give him and knowing it’s all for you.

You take him deep into your throat and hear him choke out a noise, holding your head in place but not with enough force that you're not still in charge here, he’s just desperate.

When you start to feel him getting close you stop, pulling off him and nearly laughing at his little frown and whine, looking down at you in confusion.

“Oh, do you not want me to fuck you?” You joke and the frown instantly leaves his face.

You stand up and he grabs your hand.

“Please.”

He looks like such a slut naked and hard and leaking for you, not wanting you to stop touching him.

“Please what?” You say, running your hand through his hair, grabbing it gently and tilting his head back to look at you. He’s still grabbing onto your other hand.

He whines.

“Please what Fabio?” You repeat.

“Please fuck me. I need...” He huffs and whines at you again so you tighten your hand in his hair. “I need you inside me.”

“Good boy.”

You gently lay him back, spreading him out on the bed, playing with his nipples a little to watch his aching cock jump as you do before grabbing some lube and settling between his legs.

There’s something about still being fully clothed while he’s spread out and waiting in front of you that feels so filthy so you don't strip just yet, instead you gently work one finger into him.

When you’re inside he lets out a little ‘ah’, grinding his hips up into your hand and you let him, enjoying watching him desperately try and get more friction.

He reaches down to grab himself and you stop him.

“You’ve been good but not that good. Play with your nipples if you want but that's it.”

You work two fingers inside of him, watching him tease himself.

“Such a good little slut for me Fabio, playing with yourself for me, desperate for my fingers.”

“Please.” He whines.

“Hmmm I’m not sure you’re ready. You're so tight.” You say as you fuck him slowly, not giving him enough just yet.

“I’m ready!” He manages to gasp out the protest. “I’m ready please, I need you in me, I need you to fuck me, I need...”

As much as you like to tease him you’re so endeared by his little begging that you give in.

“Okay, okay since you're such a good boy for me.” You say, leaning down to bite his thigh before you stop, feeling him tighten around your fingers.

Quickly, you strip and put on the strap, watching him grinding desperately into the bed waiting for you.

You run your hands up his thighs, across his stomach and up to brush his nipples before cupping his face.

“You ready?” You ask, lining yourself up.

He nods, too desperate to form words and you lean down to kiss him as you gently push into him making him moan into your mouth.

Once you're fully in you stop, letting him adjust for a second but he just rocks into you and whines, his hands gripping your back and his legs wrapping around you.

“God Fabio you look so good like this. You look so pretty taking my cock.”

He lets out a whimpering noise and you can't help but tease him a little more.

“Want something baby?”

“Please move.” He chokes out. “Fuck me just, fuck me please.”

“Good boy.” You tell him, and start to fuck him like he needs, looking down at him as he takes your cock.

“So good. Such a good boy, taking it so well, doing so well baby.”

“Touch me please.” He’s almost crying now, needing the touch, the attention. He can’t do it himself, he needs you to do it for him, it has to be you.

You reach down between you both to grab his neglected cock, wrapping your hand around him as he keens and reaches up to take your mouth into his, pulling you into a deep kiss.

You can tell it’s not going to be long for him, he’s so needy, but you think he deserves it today so you move your hand a little fast and fuck into him a little harder until he cries out, tears espcaping the corners of his eyes as he comes for you, spilling onto his stomach and all over your hands.

“That's it Fab, good boy, that's it.” You say as he does, fucking him through his orgasm.

You sit up slightly, leaving your cock in him as you gather up some of his come from his stomach and push your fingers gently into his exhausted little mouth, watching him as he shamelessly tastes himself on your fingers.

He looks so fucked out and tired, so you gently pull out, quickly grab a warm wet towel and clean him up, grabbing some water and snacks from his bedside table where you know he keeps them, before pulling him against your chest for cuddles.

Eventually, you fall asleep like this, wrapped up in eachothers arms. As you drift off to sleep, your last thought is that you wish you could do this every race for him.

#f1blr #reader x fabio #fabio quartararo imagine #fabio quartararo smut #reader x fabio quartararo #fabio quartararo #motogp smut #motogp imagine #motogp #gender neutral

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 5 months

Note

For the anon with a request (part 1) 😉

I'm so frustrated because Evan and I are out of town for the weekend for my cousin's wedding. I packed my sexiest lingerie and planned to rock his world tonight afterwards. I think about how hot he's going to look all dressed up and I sigh and close my eyes picturing me undressing him. But son of a bitch if I didn't start to feel cramps and realize I was starting my period. Great. Cramps and no fun tonight. Well at least not with our clothes off. I wasn't supposed to start for a couple more days. Like a dummy I also didn't pack anything because I was too focused on our late night activities. I moan in disgust as I feel the cramps getting worse.

Evan walks in the room, having gone down to the car to get our bags. He was such a gentleman. Always doing the heavy lifting no matter how much I protest. He notices I look a little pissed.

"uh-oh, what did I do?" He says as he freezes in place

I chuckle softly and give him a loving look. "It's not you babe. I just...started my period and I wasn't supposed to yet. Had a night planned for us"

"Oooh boy." He says jokingly

"I have cramps and I didn't bring anything.

"Oh shit. What can I do? Want me to run to the store?"

"would you?"

"of course. We passed a pharmacy as we turned down the street."

I tell him what I need. Advil and Tampax. I ask him if he's ok getting the latter for me. He says he sure can.

"you're amazing and I love you" I say and kiss him. "I will make this up to you soon" I wink at him. He chuckles his soft breathy chuckle. My mind wanders to what his breath feels like on my body when he's on top of me and his weight is delicious on me. I sigh. It sucks being so damn horny when you can't fuck.

Evan gets back fairly quickly and I feel relief. I take an Advil, do what I have to do with the other and lay on the bed. We have a few hours before the wedding starts and I want to try to get rid of my cramps.

He asks what he can do and I say he could spoon me so I can use him as a human hot pad for my pain. He does just that and then lays a big warm hand on my lower abdomin.

"Oh, honey that feels so good" I say

"Glad to help" he whispers in my ear. It makes me shift a little. He chuckles again.

I look behind me and say "an orgasm might help the pain go away" I say softly

Without saying a word he starts touching my breasts. Rubbing at my nipples through my bra. I moan so he reaches in my shirt and starts rubbing my nipples between his finger and thumb gently.

He continues to play and it feels so good cause right now I'm oversensitive.

He is rubbing and flicking and then he shifts me towards him and he climbs on top of me. He lifts my shirt up and starts lapping at my nips. His tongue is soft and gentle and slow. I just lay there and experience it. He's actually getting me close just playing with my breasts. I beg him to touch me. His fingers rub over the fabric of my pants. He's pressing hard enough to get to my clit and he starts in circles. He doesn't have to do much as my body explodes and I cry out softly.

"That's my girl. Did that help?"

"Yes", I say sleepy.

"Rest for a few" he says as he spoons me again and I fall asleep thinking about how I'm going to repay him tonight after the wedding. This very sweet man that I am lucky enough to have in my life.

(to be continued)

writer anon wasted no time with the request!

#fic

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1rsoldiersince2012 · 1 year

Text

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 3277 (chapter 15)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY

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15. Karma is a...

The weekend has passed calmly. If 'calm' has suddenly changed its meaning.

You were stressing over everything, drowning in memories of Robert and you, remembering how you agreed to go on a second date with Wesley, and later found yourself meeting Murdock more than your bosses would like their best lawyer to do.

Monday morning you came to work earlier than usually, making yourself a nice cup of tea, you were sitting in your office, a red folder with documents rested in the middle of the table that was so clean, you saw your own distorted reflection. Dressed in red turtleneck and jacket, you were waiting for the heavy knock on your doors, prepared for everything that might come, yet you weren't prepared for the sight you saw when Todd burst in your office, two minutes after the beginning of a workday.

"You bitch-" he closes the doors loudly and storms at your table.

"Morning, Todd." You say calmly, clasping your hands together on the folder. "What seems to be the problem?" You take a better look at his face and see a huge bruise under his eye. "You look well." A smirk escapes your lips, and Todd visibly clenches his fist at you.

"You're hiring criminals and sending them after me now? You fucking bitch." He paces around the office, raking his hair like a maniac.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Todd. Why don't you have a seat, eh?" You eye him suspiciously, before smiling brightly, "I believe we have things to discuss."

"Oh, yes, we fucking do, I'm gonna sue you, and your little fuck buddy, and you," he turns back at you and points, "you're gonna regret it, all of it!"

"Gee, Todd, maybe you should try some camomile tea? I heard it helps with the nerves." You pretend to be concerned, and a sickening smile appears on Todd's face.

"I swear, you're the biggest bitch I've met in my life."

"Me? Oh, please, I know far worse." You raise your eyebrows theatrically, and he takes a step towards your table, hoping to intimidate you.

"You, you hired some justice idiot to get out of your problems? Well, it didn't fucking work, congratulate yourself and your buddy Murdock!"

"You don't shout at me in my fucking office!" You stand up from your chair, and it rolls all the way back until it hits the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about and who gave you the look of America's next sweetheart, so sit the fuck down and let's play lawyers, Salotto."

He sends you a look and furiously grabs the chair to sit down, you do the same.

"I thought about your offer." You begin and a shadow of hope passes on his face. "Although for any other woman the thought of seeing your micro penis would sound appealing, I found something far better, let's take a look, shall we?" You open the folder and Todd, still chewing the last thought, has yet to catch up with you, when a firm's picture of him on the first page throws him off tracks.

"What is that?"

"Oh, I've sacrificed my off days and found something very interesting, Todd." You smile slightly, flipping through pages, "I'm sure all the things will be familiar to you, but don't get angry at me for repeating, where was it? Hmm. Oh, found it, fraud, bribery, giving and receiving, oh you really like that one, I can see." With every word, his face became redder and redder, yet you continued nonchalantly. "Throughout your career, you've managed to take money from 30 clients, and then bribed five officers to get out of speeding tickets, used drugs that are illegal in the state, and my personal favorite - money laundering." You close the last page of the folder and take a look at Todd.

"Where'd you get that?" He looks like he's about to snap any moment, looking at the closed folder, barely blinking.

"Two words, Todd, hard work."

"Bullshit."

"I can sue you for far more, sugar. You'll rot in jail for 20 years at least." You lean forward, closer to him, and he suddenly grabs your throat.

"Not before I fucking kill you-"

"I have a camera here." You rasp out, and the fingers slightly loosen, yet he's still holding you in place.

"Another fucking bullshit, you, I'm gonna put you in jail first." He looks like a maniac, eyes popping out, you grab his hand and hold it just as tight as he's holding your throat.

"If I don't call my associate in an hour, he's gonna leak your shit to the public, killing me would be a cheery on top." You look right him in the eyes, your free hand slowly slipping into the pocket of your jacket, where your pocket knife was secured.

He lets go of you yet pushes you back with force, and you fall back on the chair. "Your associate?" he mocks, "is that how you're calling him now?"

"Contrary to the popular belief, Murdock is not my associate, I have someone in higher power." You say hoarsely, holding your throat, "you leave me and him alone, or I swear, you're gonna be eating the shit food they serve in jail."

"Oh, I'm gonna kick you out of here, one way or another," he threatens with a bitter smile and leaves, closing the door with such force that a painting of a lake falls from the wall.

You sit back in the chair, closing your eyes for a moment. The hands were no longer squeezing your throat, yet the twitching was still present.

"Good morning to you, too." Matt smiles to no one in particular, simply because he felt satisfied with what he did on Friday and last night, when he stopped three muggers.

***

"Matt, I think Melissa's guilty. I can't find anyone else who might have hated the man, he was everyone's favorite in the whole Hell's Kitchen." Foggy greets Matt with a look of desperation and dark circles under his eyes, although Matt was lucky he couldn't see them.

"I wish I had the mood you have now." Karen retorts, looking up from the pile of papers.

"What, did something happen?" Matt furrows his eyes immediately.

"Yeah, we have no evidence against Melissa." Foggy sighs dramatically.

"I'm sure there's something we can find, we always do." Matt tries to lift everyone's spirits for a moment, although he appeared to not be very good at it - Foggy was the best man for the job.

"She's the wife of the richest guy, you think she doesn't know how to throw everyone off her tracks?" Foggy argues further.

"Wait, you guys remember what Annie said?" Karen stands up suddenly. "Melissa's not letting her into the house anymore, but she said that she saw a very suspicious looking document in her office."

"Well, we're not going to see that document, so it's no help." Foggy starts loosing all the hope he had for this case, Matt stops in the middle of the office to think. Maybe there could be a way to take a look at that document... In his mind, Matt curses the loss of sight once again. "Baking ideas?"

"Um, no, not really." Matt sighs, and rubs his forehead. "Without a warrant, we can't do anything legally."

"And you can't get a warrant because?" Karen looks at the two men in front of her.

"We have no reliable source of information to support our request."

"Beside, it could take a while, and court's tomorrow." Matt finally sits down next to Foggy and takes off his glasses.

"Why are they even hurrying it so much? He died on Friday, what about the autopsy or..." Karen also sits down, stealing a look at Matt. He could feel her heartbeat picking up within seconds.

"I'm sure Benowitz is involved, and he pushed the session to this week, so we wouldn't have enough time to find any evidence." Matt recalls how Benowitz swore to take him down if he ever got a chance, and this was a perfect opportunity.

"How are you so sure?" Karen asks, flipping through the pages of Annie's statement.

"Everyone knows how sold they are in HC&B, the decent lawyers - I could count them on one hand's fingers." Foggy leans back on his chair.

Matt refrains from the comment, although he was burning to mention you yet again. "The quicker they deal with it, the fewer speculations go around the city. It's convenient to close the case as soon as possible."

"So there's no way to get any evidence?" Karen tries again, grasping on the last straw of hope.

"Unless you want to spend your life in jail." Foggy sighs and takes a look around the office - a couple of unopened fruit baskets were beginning to rot on the cabinet. They should really liven the place up. And start taking money.

"So we go unprepared, huh?" Karen puts her head on her hands, looking down.

"We go. You're staying here. Someone has to take care of the office." Foggy says, earning a shocked look from Karen.

"He's right. Besides, potential clients might swing by." Matt sides with Foggy, although he didn't want to spend much time with Karen for other reasons - he was afraid that she'll fall in love with him, and truth to be told, Matt didn't feel like breaking her heart.

"That's good, but why?" Karen emerges from the office, and takes in Foggy's appearance.

***

"Court's been pushed to Wednesday." Foggy barges in the office, carrying a bag of donuts, hair messy from the wind, three coffee pressed close to his chest.

"Annie managed to amaze the judge - fake illness, high temperature, caught a very nasty virus." Foggy wiggles his eyebrows. "Where's Matt?"

"Oh, he left just minutes ago, didn't you two pass each other on the street?"

"No..." Foggy says, slightly hesitating.

"Hm. I'll text him the news. He's got that thing that voices out messages, right? Because he left in quite a hurry, said he had an important meeting, I don't want to disturb with a call-" Karen starts rambling and waving her hands in the air.

"It's good, text him. I'll kick his ass for abandoning us tomorrow. Now, come on, we have to find some dirt on Melissa." Foggy lifts his cup in the air in a winning manner.

***

"You know, if you were helping, it would be actually quicker!" You whisper to Matt, who closes the door.

"If I was able, I would, but now you're on your own, try to look for a signed document." He whispers back, confidently walking toward the window. The early autumn darkness has already flooded the calm street of West 56th. After spending half an hour with you in the car on the lookout, Matt has decided that this was the calmest street in Hell's Kitchen. Additional points go to it because he never had to come here as Daredevil.

"Jesus, how many copies of the same document does one need?" You sign, trying to look for the paper as quickly as possible without making an obvious mess in the sickeningly orderly office.

"Hurry." He says, turning his head as if listening like a dog.

"I'm trying." You exhale through your nose, frustrated as hell, already regretting on fulfilling this kind of favor.

"C'mon, she's gonna be here soon."

"My idea was to come here earlier, genius," you finally find what you need, but at the same time you hear a car pulling in the driveway.

"Hurry!"

"I got it, I got! Just need to take a picture." You say and pull out your phone. The car door closes loudly, and you snap a picture, praying to all the gods that she didn't see the flash. "Fuck, fuck." you whisper under your breath and put the paper back in its place, fixing the whole stack. "Matt, we have to hide, there's no way out now." You desperately look around and notice a wardrobe. In the office. Weird, but this should do.

"Get inside, idiot." You pull him in the small space and close the door, trying to control your erratic breathing.

He's quick to come next to you, grabbing your wrist. He didn't need to check your pulse like that, he already heard your heart pounding loudly, but feeling the twitching under your skin was on another level.

"Go, go" He urges you to get inside the wardrobe and already begins closing the door when you pull his sleeve towards you.

"You know, I think there's space only for one." He whispers, biting his smile away, although in darkness like this you don't see anything anyway.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, thank you, Murdock." You whisper, putting your phone into the pocket of your jeans, your hand brushes his, and you close your eyes for a moment. There is no way you can do anything in here without touching him, but the worst part was his leg between yours, squished and uncomfortably close to your core. His face was merely inches away from yours, chests were almost touching.

Your heart is beating like crazy, as is his, the adrenaline pumping through your veins clears the head, but this closeness makes you feel dizzy, and you mentally curse yourself for getting into this situation. You're a respectable lawyer, as is Matt, and you shouldn't be doing any of this shit, not when your career is hanging on a thread, not when Benowitz is collecting evidence against Matt in court, not when he's about to ruin Nelson and Murdock forever.

He takes in your perfume, although mixed with anxiety, you still smell incredible.

Matt wants to slap himself for these thoughts, but he just can't help himself, there's a pull to you, and he can't deny it any more, not when you're pulling your legs together and squeezing his.

Matt swallows rather loudly, you close your eyes and take a breath, trying to calm yourself. The door of the room opens and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen, and you stop breathing for a moment. Melissa walks around the room, her heels ring loudly in the space. Matt tries to focus on the intruder (oh the irony, when he is one), but your heart is beating too loudly for him to block it out.

He puts his hand on your chest, and you freeze. "Calm down" he whispers as silent as possible, hoping that his action will calm you. You bite the inside of your cheek, and put your head on his shoulder, desperate to slow down your breathing.

Melissa gets closer to the wardrobe, and Matt is already creating a plan of attack - if anything, he'll push you further inside and do what he swore to never do - hit a woman. When Melissa's distracted, hurt and surprised, he'll grab you and just run out through the door as fast as possible. Hopefully, he won't have to do any of it, but possibilities were still high.

If she were to recognize him, his career would be doomed. Attacking his opponent's client would send him straight to jail, if not get him killed on the spot. Surely someone high in power like Melissa had a gun somewhere. Perhaps in this very wardrobe...

You lift your head up and look at Matt, or his darkened form in front of you. It was smart enough for him to ditch his glasses in your car, because in action, they might break. And how many people you knew who wore red tinted glasses? One.

The phone rings loudly in Melissa's purse, and she hurries to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I've been trying to call you like a hundred times, where the hell have you been?"

"Still trying to corrupt that little girl?" She blows out some air and leans on the table, dropping the box of paper clips.

"Nah, it's like something is protecting her. Or someone. I saw her a couple of times with that blind guy."

"Yeah, Murdock. Fucking church boy."

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't search everything about him, Benowitz, he's our enemy. But we both know it's smart to go after our real enemy."

"Of course I have it. But we won't need it. Just find some more evidence against her, in case of sabogate, and we're good. Her lawyer won't be able to do shit if we have something good."

You fail to hear what Benowitz says, but Matt hears everything perfectly. He clenches his fist, removing his heavy and hot palm from your chest.

"C'mon, it's our chance."

"Good, see you tomorrow, Steven."

She puts her phone on the table rather loudly and leaves the room. You hear her steps descending, and you quickly tap Matt.

"No, not yet. She's pouring herself brandy, she's returning."

"But h-" you don't get to finish as Matt puts his hand on your mouth.

Is he mad? Take off your shirt? Now? For what? So that Melissa could look at your bra when she opens the wardrobe? This is insane. Thoughts race in your head, but you do as you're told. There's already not enough space for two people in here, but taking off your shirt in place like this seems like mission impossible. You begin, slowly pulling your hand out of the sleeve, and pushing the shirt a little upwards. Matt pulls his hand away from your mouth and puts it on your bare side, gently holding you in place and helping with the shirt. You can't help but shiver at everything - the cool air, the situation you're in, and Matt's gentle touch.

Quick steps ring in the office again, and you struggle to breathe quietly, as Matt's hand blocks your mouth. He leans closer to your ear and whispers as silently as possible, "take off your shirt".

You murmur something against his palm, but stop as Melissa starts pacing around the office again.

Finally, you have to take it off your head and Matt grabs the shirt, putting it on your head - your mouth and chin, leaving your eyes.

Melissa steps closer, you can hear her silently whistling under her breath -

And in one moment, many things happen - you get pushed further into the closet, Melissa lets out a scream that is stopped in the middle by Matt knocking her out. Matt grabs your arm and yanks you towards him, both scrambling to run away from the house. In the heat of the moment you found yourself pulling him, because after all, you were the one with actual sight. In the street, cold air hits your almost bare half, but there's no time to think, as you run into a dark alley.

He stops and you, holding your side and pant like crazy, "Running was not what I signed up for when I went to law school! " You put on your shirt, looking around if no one saw you running around the city in a bra.

"I see someone's badly out of shape." Matt smirks, but soon his smile fades.

"Did you just hit Melissa?" You laugh, somehow finding this situation hilariously dangerous.

"Yes, but not hard, I don't think I broke anything, come, we gotta hurry before she calls the cops." He pulls your hand again, leading the way to his apartment.

"Wait," You stop and check your pockets, letting out a sigh of relief when you feel your phone there. "We drove here, but I parked on the other side of her house, it would be very suspicious for us to show up near it now."

"You're right, you go, stay in the shadows as much as possible, and drive home, send the picture to Foggy, and please, be careful." He spins on his heel to leave, but you quickly grab his sleeve.

"No, what do you think you're doing? You're coming with me." You pull his jacket slightly.

"No, y/n."

"Murdock, you know that I'm already pissed, so don't cross the line." You step further and pull him towards you again, this time he complies, helplessly following you to the car.

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #matt murdock x reader #matts superhearing complicates things for you #foggy nelson #karen page #marvel daredevil #netflix daredevil #daredevil #marvel #daredevil fanfiction #human disaster matt murdock #lawyers #bound by law

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