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apomaro-mellow · 11 months

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Steve’s parents are in a cult and sacrifice him for their own gains. Yall can thank @whoevenknowsdude for giving me the motivation not to give up on this version.

The party was going on as usual. Steve had been to many of them before. The earliest he remembered was being five and led around by his mother’s hand, then eventually being handed off to a nanny for the rest of the evening. It was always some sort of parade. As a young child, he was the cute baby version of his father. Something for the women to coo at.

Around 11 he was a growing lad who was expected to cause a little trouble. Then at 14 he was a young man with a promising future.

‘Oh you must meet my daughter.’

‘You know Celia is about your age...’

‘So have you got a girlfriend?’

Steve caught glimpses of the older boys either politely rebuffing or ending up engaged with someone. This was a very insular crowd, he knew that. Still, he hoped he’d have something resembling a choice when the time came.

And yet, as he got older, no one rushed to introduce him to anyone. It confused him to no end. He had no trouble attracting girls at school and all of his parents’ friends thought he was charming. He came from good stock. Why did no one want him to marry their daughter?

He tried not to feel so offended by it. But it was just so bizarre.

But back to tonight. It was going like it always did. Steve spent most of it by his parents’ sides, only occasionally going off on his own. He made nice conversation, had a drink or two, despite being nineteen, and kept the Harrington name good and golden.

As the hour got late though, it got to the point where most of the men split off to have cigars. Steve was usually excused at this point but this time his father put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the next room. He took part in more conversation about his prospects (not going to school but who needed to when he was planning on succeeding his father) and drank some brandy.

“Steve, it’s time we discussed your future”, his father said, letting out a puff of cigar smoke.

“What about it...exactly?”, Steve asked.

“That sometimes we must defer to a higher power.”

“....Right...”

“Steven”, one of the other men started. “You ever take one for the team?”

“Yeah, plenty of times. But what are you guys talking about what’s going on?”, Steve asked.

“Come with me, son.”

Steve got up and followed his father. The other men came along down the stairs into the basement of the clubhouse. But then it went deeper.

“History is filled with ambitious figures, Steve. People who did whatever it took to reach their goals. Tonight it’s up to you to take us even higher.”

“Up to me? What do you want me to do?”

They came to the bottom of the stairs. His mother was already waiting, along with the other women. There was a large stone slab with restraints on it and Steve felt his stomach drop at the implication. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was too crazy.

“Mom, Dad...what are we doing here?”

“The higher power we worship will give us fortune beyond what we could dream of”, his father said. “But everything has its price.”

Before Steve could utter another question, he felt hands on him, gripping and pushing him towards the slab. He struggled and screamed for both of his parents. For some kind of explanation. For something that made sense. But he could feel his sanity slipping as they got him on the altar and tied his limbs down.

Lawrence, 50, with an unconvincing hairpiece stood over him. Steve never liked Lawrence. He always looked at him weird and his touches lingered like he was inspecting a piece of meat.

He was doing it now, trailing a hand up his tied up arm.

“I can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice, Steven. And your parents for bringing up such good stock. I have no doubt he will be pleased with you.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on but there’s no way you’re going to kill me for-for what? More money?”

His mother came into view, her expression mournful and Steve wanted to vomit.

“Steve, my love, we won’t be killing you. We could never do that. We just need a bit of your blood. After that....well after that....”

“Our lord will do what he wants with you. And with their lot I can only imagine he will want to devour your soul”, his father finished.

“So you are killing me.”

“We won’t be dealing the killing blow”, his father said. “And who is to say you won’t survive?”

Steve took a deep breath through his nose. This was insane. But it seemed like they at least didn’t plan to put a stake through his heart. He’d lose a bit of blood, they’d probably chant, and then when their demon lord didn’t show up, he could get a shower and then maybe disown his parents.

That didn’t make this situation any less shitty though.

Then someone ripped open his jacket and shirt, exposing his chest. Both of his parents were given knives. The knowledge that they didn’t intend to kill him quell that instinctual fear. Steve had always been a good kid. But sometimes good wasn’t enough. Sometimes he wondered if his parents regretted having him. So his current view wasn’t helping at all in that regard.

They both cut a slit right in the center of his palms and he hissed. They then took his blood and drew a symbol on his stomach.

There was indeed chanting but between the alcohol, his bleeding hands, and the general delirium, Steve couldn’t make it out. God, he just wanted this to be over. He just wanted normal parents who didn’t sacrifice their own son to the devil. He wanted a lot of things but it seemed like life would disappoint him one last time.

“Whoa! You’ve got a real party going on here”, a voice said, coming down the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?”, one of the chanters demanded.

Steve craned his neck to see....some guy. It was just some guy, in a black tank top and ripped jeans.

“Who? Me?”, he came to the bottom of the steps and looked around. “Was I not summoned? I thought I heard my name.”

“Someone get this fool out of here!”

“Oh, I see what the issue is. I’m not in the proper attire. My bad.” He took a few more steps forward, right into the range of the men who had advanced on him. Then flames erupted from his body, burning them in an instant. When the fire dissipated, Steve let out a gasp and started to actually pull against his restraints.

This was real! Fuck this was real! A real demon with horns and claws and fangs and shit-were those wings?! He had to get out of here, even if that meant ripping his hands and feet off to escape.

Turned out that was the wrong move. In seconds, the demon crossed the room on all fours and climbed atop the slab to hover over Steve.

“My lord”, Steve’s father said in an impressively even tone. “We offer you our greatest sacrifice-” He was cut off with a deep growl, one that Steve felt in his bones, being this close.

“You...haven’t...sacrificed....anything.” The demon turned its gaze to Steve, lying under him. “But you still have so much to give.” He touched a clawed hand to Steve’s stomach where the bloody symbol was. “Will you give it to me?”

Steve let out a breath. He was going to die. He was going to die and what did he have to show for it? Actually....what did he have to show for it if he lived tonight? Maybe it would be painless, this soul sucking. He just wanted to be done.

“Just take it”, Steve said. “Take whatever you want.”

The demon laughed darkly. “I always do.” He smeared a clawed hand against Steve’s torso, messing up what was drawn there. He sniffed his hand and let out a sigh.

“Steve!”, his mother shrieked and he wondered if she had just realized what she was giving him up for.

“They spilt your blood for their own gains. Now to me, that doesn’t seem fair”, the demon said. “Don’t you think they should have to give something up? Don’t you want them dead?”

Steve dared to look the demon in his face. The eyes betrayed nothing. Just a blank, red void. But there was something about his expression anyway. Something in the quirk of his lip, the tilt of his head. Steve wondered if he actually would kill everyone in this room if he asked. As for himself, well, despite everything Steve couldn’t ask that of him. He really only wanted one thing and this might be his single chance to voice it out loud.

“I just want to be free.”

“Now see here”, Lawrence said, wagging a finger. “We have been your loyal servants. Our wishes-cckhk!”

He was cut off when the demon’s tail wrapped around his neck, dragging him closer. The demon brought him over until they were eye to eye.

“I would go ahead and count the blessings I already have. You all get to live another day.” He dropped Lawrence, ignoring his gasps for breath as he looked back down at Steve. “And you’re coming with me.”

Flames swirled around them but Steve didn’t feel any heat. Just a rush of warm wind as his restraints disappeared. The light got too bright though and he closed his eyes. When he no longer felt the light behind them, he opened them up, expecting the fires of hell, or a dark abyss of a pit. Maybe even some combination of the two.

Instead he found that he was in a….cramped apartment. The demon was back to the tank top and jeans and Steve wondered if someone had slipped something into a drink.

“You live here?”

The demon stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Whenever I come topside, yeah. And for the time being, so do you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t tell me you wanna go back to those assholes. Not after they-” He stopped speaking and his nostrils flared. Then he looked down.

Steve followed his gaze and saw that his hands were dripping blood onto the floor. “Ah, shit, sorry I-” He was about to wipe it on his ruined shirt when the demon grabbed a wrist, freezing him in place. His words were caught in his throat when the demon took a long sniff at the blood still slowly dripping out of his palm. He looked Steve in the eye as he slowly licked it clean. When the blood was gone, Steve saw his hand was completely healed.

The demon took his other hand and did the same, but somehow went even slower. The licks were punctuated with what could have been open mouth kisses but Steve wasn’t sure. Either the demon was making out with his hand or trying to eat him with little success.

When that one was finished, the demon looked at him and Steve was taken with how blown his eyes were. Like Steve’s blood was top shelf.

“B-buy a guy dinner first, huh?”

The demon came back into himself and took a step back, releasing Steve’s hand. “Yeah, sorry it’s just-yeah…” He cleared his throat and then turned, going deeper into the apartment. “So my home is your home, until you figure out exactly what you wanna do. Um, bathroom’s over there I’m sure you wanna get the rest of that blood off.”

He looked almost nervous to have Steve here. And the absurdity of that made Steve let out a chuckle. And then everything came crashing down on him and he started to laugh in earnest. The demon’s anxious stance just made more laughter bubble forth. What the fuck had his life become?

“Are you okay?”

“I just realized why none of them wanted me to date their daughters.” Steve pushed his hair out of his face. “They knew they’d be giving me to you.” As he laughed the tears started to fall. The demon looked even more shocked but then he came over and wrapped his arms around Steve.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing. Or why I’m crying.”

“Because it’s fucked up man. Like hilariously fucked up. And sometimes you gotta laugh about that crap.” The demon pulled away just enough to look Steve in the eye. “But you’re better than what you just left behind. You proved that by letting them live.”

Steve wiped at his eyes. “Well you already burned a couple of them. Wait, you killed them!”

“Collateral damage when I let my flames loose. I don’t like being touched.” He seemed to realize he was doing just that and raised his hands in the air before taking two steps away from Steve.

“I don’t even know your name. And you would’ve actually killed them for me?”

“Oh I go by Eddie nowadays.” He turned and looked like he was trying to make himself busy by picking things up and putting them down.

“Eddie? Just Eddie?”

“Short for Edifice. Um, did you want that shower?”

“I….” Steve still had questions. But he felt barely functioning right now. Like if he got one more bit of information his brain would explode.

“Steve….You’re free now. That was what you asked for.” The demon, no, Eddie, his name was Eddie, was smiling at him.

“I want….to go to sleep.”

Eddie started to walk away and Steve followed. He led him to a room where the bed took up most of the space.

“It’s yours for tonight. And tomorrow, well it’s all up to you now.”

Steve collapsed against the bed. He vaguely registered his shoes being taken off but soon fell into oblivion.

Part 2

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #i have a whole lore in the back of my head #about how eddie is essentially 911 for summoning #but we'll get into that in part 2

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simplyreveries · 5 months

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Can I request a Lilia x fem!reader to which Lilia is pining hard for reader? Just cute fluffy things, maybe Diasmonia will notices it too!

when theyre pining; lilia vanrouge!

you're going to see so much of him around now. he'll quite literally just pop out of nowhere and surprise you. he'll hang from upside down and casually speaking to you, asking what're you up to. he will always end up following you along.

lilia will always invite you over to diasomnia, he wants to share and show you his trinkets and souvenirs he's collected during his travels all around twisted wonderland. he likes it when you're interested to know, especially as someone who has barely been outside of sage island! no worries because as soon as lilia can, he will take you -- well anywhere with him. in fact, he dreams of it. while staying there, if you're... lucky he'll even offer you some food he's made. (bless silver for just making you two some tea whenever you're there).

is always as telling diasomnia about you. he'll randomly blissfully sigh and say something like "weren't they so lovely today, malleus?". he is not ashamed or embarrassed one bit with how strongly he feels about you. he tells the others his "perfect plans" in securing you as his lover. he thinks he can easily woo you, he's confident and cheeky when it comes his abilities. lilia always asks you "why, aren't i just the cutest (name)~?".

you'll sometimes find letters delivered to ramshackle in old looking paper and stamps sealed. they're by lilia of course, even though he doesn't exactly sign them. you can enjoy some of them with treats...? he puts in with them. that or some sort of darker colored flowers malleus told him may be a good idea to do.

can be pretty eager to share you the history he's known, if you're in class and seem struggling looking at a textbook he'll can easily help you. it's just a bit strange because you can sometimes forget that lilia has lived through a lot of these experiences. its so bizarre?? when he chuckles and thinks back like "let me see... oh yes, i remember that."

he compliments you all the time, he thinks you're simply adorable. he is quite observant too; he'll notice some changes you might've did to yourself or a hairstyle you tried differently. he's offering you his own accessories, rings, necklaces, earrings, hair pins- it's funny especially if you two have contrasting taste of styles. but he loves it if you'd accept and wear them. he loves seeing you in them. it's also sooo convenient for him because he's now easily matching you in some way. "we look simply perfect together.". with how he is acts around you i feel like everyone just thinks you're together at this point.

#muah ty #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #not v proof read!!

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bleedingoptimism · 1 year

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You Are Mine part 3

Second day is an early call too. They are going to shoot a bunch of scenes of them hanging out between shows, loitering on the bus, playing d&d, and going to weird little dinners, all things they actually do when on tour.

It’s even better than the day before, Robin and Steve get along so well with the band it feels like they’ve been friends for years.

Since their conversation won't be distinguishable in the video, Argyle tells them they can talk about whatever and just be a little more emphatic when talking so it reads better on camera.

A direction that apparently they don't need at all because they are both so expressive. And so, they actually get to chat and get to know each other better, laughing and joking all through the day.

Robin, who is a ‘raging lesbian’ (her words) is fucking adorable and bizarre, her energy is contagious and nerve-racking. She’s finishing a career in linguistics, can speak fluently in like six languages, and is apparently a certified genius.

She’s also head over heels obsessed with her girlfriend, and won’t stop talking about her. Vicky is a nurse student, one of Steve’s classmates actually.

‘Steve is a fucking nurse student, why is that hot? Why does he find that so hot? Jesus’.

Steve is much quieter than Robin, especially in comparison. But he’s just, or even funnier. Eddie can see how observant he is, listening attentively and waiting for his moment, because he’s mostly quiet but when he speaks he always says the perfect thing.

It’s like every time he talks Eddie can see him dropping an imaginary mike on the floor. It’s fascinating honestly.

He is incredibly sweet too. Eddie can tell, by how his eyes light up when they are placed in a scene meant to look like they are playing Dungeons and Dragons and he goes on a tangent about the kids he used to babysit when he was younger, that they like to play too, how they drove him insane and how he never lost touch with them after they grew up, how they are all seniors in high school now, how proud he is of them. It’s so fucking cute.

They get a good laugh imagining the kids' reactions to seeing them in the video, Steve laughing so hard he cries when Robin starts imitating the expression of one of them finding out Steve made out with his favorite singer.

And they haven’t even talked about or planned that scene yet, it’s meant to be shot tomorrow, but when he hears them talking about it, it fills Eddie up with antici…pation. He’s dying to kiss Steve and he can’t stop thinking about it.

♫

After the lunch break, they shoot a bunch of scenarios of Eddie sneaking into various places, the bus, a bathroom, a changing room, and so on. Since Robin and Steve are practically the same height is easy to cheat the camera into only showing the back of the shirt that says ‘crew’ making it impossible to know which one of them he’s hooking up with until the end of the video.

He has a lot of fun pushing Steve into different corners of the set, and Steve does too judging from all his cute little laughs between scenes.

Argyle calls it a day late afternoon, he’s happy and excited, says he has a really good feeling about this,

“Not many scenes left to shoot, mostly you two,” he said pointing at Steve and him, “So we can start mid-morning tomorrow. Get some rest my dudes, love you” and dismisses them.

Eddie gets distracted talking with Argyle so when he gets back to the changing room there’s no one there, except… Steve.

He’s meticulously fixing his hair in the mirror and he’s humming the video’s song. Of course he is, Eddie thinks amused, he’s heard it so many times by now. He leans on the doorway watching Steve’s reflection, waiting for him to notice Eddie, but Steve doesn’t see him right away, and thinking he’s alone, he starts singing.

I don’t want to hide anymore,

I want the whole world to know,

That you are mine,

Are you mine, please be mine, you are mine.

It’s his song, but it sounds nothing like it. The chorus of You Are Mine is loud, angry, desperate but what Steve is singing sounds so soft, so beautiful. It sounds like one of those slow acoustic covers that usually play in coffee stores and it’s funny, Eddie despises those kinds of covers, but Steve’s?

Steve’s he could listen to all the goddam time.

He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn't notice when Steve finally sees him, he only looks up when the singing stops.

Steve is smiling at him bashfully through the reflection in the mirror, blushing prettily.

Smiling back he tells Steve, “I’m surprised you are not sick of it yet,”

He pushes himself off the doorframe and walks inside, hovering over Steve since he’s sitting on the only makeup chair.

Steve shrugs as he stands up and leaves the chair to Eddie, going around the room to grab his things. Eddie can’t help but feel a little disappointed, he kind of wanted Steve to keep him company, but to his surprise, Steve doesn't leave immediately, and it’s his turn to hover slightly close.

“It’s a really catchy song,” Steve says and Eddie snorts because, no, it’s not. But he just smiles again and says,

“Well, thank you.”

“You wrote it?” Steve asks tilting his head to the side and it’s fucking unfair how cute he looks when he does it.

Eddie just nods, because speaking hard when cute boy near. Man he usually has so much more game, what is it about Steve that just makes him feel so giddy?

“It must be about someone very special,” Steve says and there’s a question hidden somewhere in there.

And Eddie wants to tell him ‘I wrote it for you’ because it feels like he did. He wrote the song thinking about a concept, an ideal, someone he would truly want, and he genuinely feels he was conjuring up Steve in his mind. Even before he met him.

But instead, he shakes his head and says, “It’s hypothetical, there- there’s no one.”

And Steve smiles at him, his smile getting bigger slowly and his cheeks redder as he looks down for a second before staring at Eddie through his lashes, “Good” he says in an almost whisper and then leaves the room.

And Eddie thinks maybe all the songs in their next album will be about Steve.

to be continued

part 1: ♫

part 2: ♫

part 3: is this

part 4: ♫

☕ cafecito?

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #robin buckley #i wrote something #did yall like my song??

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yanderes-galore · 4 months

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I see you got Jojo's Bizarre Adventure on the request list. What about this concept: yandere part 3!Dio with a darling who is a Joestar(perhaps Jotaro's relative of some sort), that came to Egypt with the rest of Stardust Crusaders to kill him. Romantic please!

I made the pairing more platonic because while I love writing romantic Dio... but he is technically part of the Joestar family due to Jonathan in part 3? His intentions are ambiguous but I made the pairing platonic, I'm sorry :(

Not proofread, expect mistakes!

Yandere! DIO with Joestar! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Possessive behavior, Inner conflict, Murder, Manipulation, Sadism, Kidnapping, Human pet mention, Angst, Forced companionship.

Dio with a Joestar! Darling opens up idea that I adore.

He's dedicated his life to eliminating Jonathan's bloodline.

Since stealing Jonathan's body he can sense his descendents.

So obviously he knows of Joseph, he knows of Jotaro...

He knows of you.

He obviously keeps an eye on the whole group.

You're the older sibling of Jotaro, much more behaved than the younger Kujo... in terms of not getting thrown into jail 24/7.

You have developed a stand like every Joestar after Dio inflicted himself with an arrow.

As a result you join the Crusaders to help save you and Jotaro's mother, Holly.

Dio fully expects to kill you along with the rest.

However, as you go through trial after trial... stand user after stand user... Dio finds himself getting more and more interested.

An obsession with you makes the vampire conflicted.

After all... he's meant to kill you.

He wants to kill Joseph and Jotaro, but why not you?

You obviously want him dead... but he keeps thinking of others plans for you.

The obsession he has for you makes the vampire irritated.

He isn't quite sure why he's so fond of you... this isn't like him.

He may even blame it on Jonathan somehow.

He thinks he doesn't have to kill you... maybe he can just toy with you?

Kill your friends and family in front of you... trap you with him... control you....

Such thoughts are much more appealing to him than outright killing you.

He often sends minions to watch your progress.

He orders them to tell him all about you, learning about you eagerly like some research project.

I personally think the feelings he has towards you are more akin to something familial if you're a Joestar.

He blames it on Jonathan's blood making him go all soft towards you.

For one reason or another Dio wants to keep you while getting rid of the rest.

His intentions no doubt are to make you some sort of servant.

Yet at the same time he can't help but feel a certain fondness that makes him want to care for you.

Care for you?

He's a hypocrite... but he always has been, hasn’t he?

Eventually Dio may cave into his odd obsession.

You don't leave his mind and he can't quite take it anymore.

Eventually he'll kidnap you.

It may be before his big battle, it may be after.

Dio intends to win and isolate you.

Hopefully that's enough to soothe his soft fondness towards you.

When Dio eventually encounters you he makes his intentions clear.

He's going to kill your friends... he's going to kill your grandfather... he's going to kill your brother...

But he won't kill you.

Your loved ones perishing in front of you should be enough of a punishment, yeah?

Dio can't help but feel attached as his eyes land on you.

A Joestar... but one he wants to spare.

You're an enigma to him.

An enigma he plans to keep to himself.

Far as he knows he's succeeded in his goals by killing everyone but you.

You may have a stand but you're not as powerful as him.

Especially when he has the Joestar blood from Joseph and Jotaro in his veins now.

You're completely powerless against him.

He can pull you into his lap and treat you well... you'll be the perfect pet for him to play with.

He wants to be cruel to you... but part of him wants to be comforting.

Unable to push his fondness towards you away... he reluctantly embraces it...

He embraces you.

Even as you squirm... he doesn't let go.

You're his now... all his...

Reluctantly... yet also because he feels he has to... he cares for you as though you were a sibling he never had... or had lost long ago.

#yandere jojo #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jjba #yandere DIO #yandere dio brando #platonic yandere

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seabirdtxt · 1 year

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Hey, back at it with a request. I wanted to dump you with requests, but I also know that it takes you a bit to write, and I didn't want to overwhelm you ^^"""

Honestly though, with the requests I have in mind, I have a feeling they're going to become a spinoff series called "In which the Puppets learn the Creator is really, really bizarre."

With that said, this request will consist of some habits I have, and how our puppet boys would react to them! That being: reader is a night owl magpie who likes to collect a number of things. Whatever sparks their fancy, they hoard (It's why the Traveller has such a hoarding problem in the first place).

They collect some semi-formal things, like flowers and different plants, and like shiny rocks (Reader is familiar with the Language of Flowers, and I can fully see them and Kabukimono spending hours going over them. With Scara, Reader finds a piece of Rose Quartz in the shape of a heart and gives it to him, saying "You said you wanted a heart, right? Here you go! I know it isn't a real heart, but that's okay: because you already have a real one!")

But then they have the weird stuff they collect, like bones -and teeth -and scales - and bugs (Scara or Wanderer: "Why do you have this?" Reader, holding up the carcass of a beetle: "I just think they're neat!")

Or the worse part: literal trash. I'm talking broken pieces of glass and random metal parts, and like old candy wrappers that they've been keeping. (Again: Scara or Wanderer: "Get rid of this." Reader: "But it has sentimental value-!!!" S or W: "IT IS LITERALLY TRASH!!!")

But yes. Reader is a hoarder of many things.

i love this LOL i also hoard some pretty random things so like 🤝

(Might not have touched on all the same points as your ask bc i tried to keep it in-universe, but i tried to hit the major themes of each!)

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

Flowers and Gems: Kabukimono

This collection is one of your gentler ones, and you take care to replenish it often with new blooms and interesting stones you pick up along your way. There is so much more novelty to collect here than back on earth, after all!

Kabukimono is fascinated by the variety of it, begging to be taken along with you the next time you venture out into the world to add more to your stash, and maybe take inspiration to start a collection of his own! It takes a bit of convincing, but you eventually relent and allow him to accompany you.

He follows you with wide eyes and an awed grin, asking you all about the various plants that the pair of you come across. You try to remember them as best as you can, reciting what you remember from the ingame tooltips.

“Wow! What’s this one?” Kabukimono asks, bounding up to a reddish pink bush. He delicately plucks one of the flowers, showing it to you proudly.

“That’s a silk flower!” You tell him, smiling as you take the flower from his hand. He only smiles and picks himself another one. “The people in Liyue can process them and make them into a very fine fabric!”

Kabukimono nods in understanding. “That makes sense! I know lots of kimono makers back home often talk about the quality of fabric from Liyue.”

“Fun fact,” you add, “back in my world, silk is such a sturdy material that it can resist piercing damage, to a certain extent! But it is very weak to slashing, or cutting damage.”

“That’s so interesting!” Kabukimono’s eyes go wider at the information. “I wonder if that's true of the silk from this world, too!”

“We probably shouldn’t, y’know… test it or anything,” you interrupt him before he lets his curiosity get the better of him. “We can probably ask a seamstress about it later.”

“Ohhh, good thinking.” Kabukimono agrees. He pockets his flower and looks around the area, scouting for the next object to collect. “Hey, do you have an electro crystal, yet? I heard you can only mine them using pyro!”

You let Kabukimono lead you to your next destination, already planning to press the new flower for your collection. Distantly, you wonder how the two of you are going to get an electro crystal, considering neither of you have pyro visions.

----- ⚘ -----

Beetles and Bones: Wanderer

“I went back to Springvale to ask if those hunters still had some of those ancient boar bones,” is what you say, offering a sheepish grin to Wanderer, who stares down at you with his arms crossed. In all honesty, you probably deserve the scrutiny for having somehow escaped his supervision for several hours.

“Did you at least get the, uh,,” Wanderer gestures at the cloth bag you’re holding in your arms. “Special bones you were looking for?”

“Yeah!” You exclaim, shaking the bag excitedly. It makes a rattling noise as you move. “Do you want to see them?”

You don’t wait to hear the answer, instead leading the way to your room, where part of your collection resides. You hear Wanderer step in and close the door behind you, waiting in curious silence as you carefully put your bag on your bed, pulling open the drawstring with reverence.

One by one, you bring out the intact bones the hunters were able to unearth from you. You brush off some of the remaining dust, then you begin laying them out on your bed in their approximate positions.

“That’s your special ancient boar?” Wanderer asks, sidling up to you and looking at the bones with you.

“Yes!” You finally place the jawless skull at the top of the unfinished skeleton, putting your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “I found it during a quest when I was still guiding the Traveler. I knew I had to have it in my collection when I got here!”

“Fair enough,” Wanderer nods. “Can I see the rest of your stuff?”

You are more than eager to show off the cool stuff you’ve been hoarding since your arrival in Teyvat, from smaller animal bones, to surprisingly intact shed lizard skins and molted duskbird feathers, and even some hollow onikabuto shells.

Wanderer picks up each one with care, mindful of your enthusiasm for your strange collection. He turns each object over slowly, inspecting them as you’re explaining the particularities of your collection.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow some of these?” Wanderer eventually asks, as you’re nearing the end of your impromptu lecture. “I’ve got this Amurta elective that I haven’t started my project for, and some of these are interesting enough. I could probably write something about them.”

Your sudden silence is worrying, and he’s quick to backpedal in case he’d offended you in some way.

“Or, forget it, I mean-” he turns and pretends to scratch his nose to hide the dumb expression he knows he must be making. “I know this is all probably hard to get, so if you don’t want to risk it getting broken or stolen…”

“I would love to share it with you!!” Your sudden shout scares him out of his foul mood, and he looks at you in bemusement. Your eyes are wide and shiny, matching the stupid grin that settles on your face. Just as he’s about to reply, you leap up and scramble for one of the unopened drawers.

You proudly present a wooden box, and when you open it Wanderer can see the interior is padded and separated with thin wooden strips, creating protected compartments just big enough to fit some of the larger items in your collection.

“You’ve got to take extra good care of this stuff, okay?” You instruct him, and you help him pack the items he’d chosen into your carrying case. “I mean, I can probably find some of this stuff again, but the more delicate things are harder to come by. Promise you’ll be careful?”

He looks up at you, closing the lid of the box slowly and fastening it shut. “Yeah, I promise,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

----- ⚘ -----

Literal Garbage: Scaramouche

“You’re throwing this shit out, right?”

The noise you make, of absolute disgust and denial, is enough to make Scaramouche second guess his own words for a moment. He recovers faster than you’d give him credit for, picking up the broken clay jar and the dull shard of a broken sword. He holds up both in front of you, an accusing glare pinning you.

“Does this look like normal stuff to collect, to you?” he demands, tossing both back into the bin where he’d found them, retrieving a foil candy wrapper and a graphite pencil with no nib. Again, he discards both items with a noise of exasperation. “None of this stuff has any use! It’s all just garbage! Where do you even find this?!”

“Like,” you say, shuffling closer to your collection bin and putting the cover back on it slowly. “On the ground and stuff? I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose with a loud sigh, but doesn’t make any move to reopen the bin. “You’re seriously testing my patience, here. Why are you collecting all this garbage? Can’t you collect something less… bizarre? Like seashells, or something.”

“I have some of those, too!”

“Not the point, here!”

You look down where your hands are pressing down on the lid of the bin, then back up at Scaramouche with a bit of a pout.

“Are you really making me throw it all out?” You ask, pitifully. He takes one look at you and grumbles with displeasure.

“That’s not what I said,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks down his nose at you. “You want to waste your time picking up other people’s trash and pretending it has meaning to you? Fine, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re stuck with a container full of useless junk that nobody wanted anymore.”

“Sometimes, even the things that people feel have no practical use can be worth a lot to someone else,” you tell him. “Things don’t have to be worth anything to be wanted.”

Scaramouche chews on your words for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, whatever you say, I guess.”

He doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so you tentatively open the bin and reach inside, fishing around until your fingertips grasp what you’re looking for.

“Are you sure you don’t recognize this one?” You ask, holding up the candy wrapper so he can see it. He scrunches up his nose at the offending item.

“Am I supposed to?”

“It’s from that festival in Inazuma,” you smile, bringing the wrapper to yourself gently. “The one you guys took me to when you found out I hadn’t been to one before.”

Scaramouche looks at it closer, out of the corner of his eye. He lets his shoulders slump and shakes his head with a huff.

“Whatever,” he says. “The rest of it is garbage, though.”

You put the wrapper away with a cheeky grin.

#genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin isekai #genshin self aware au #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #genshin wanderer #sagau wanderer #genshin kabukimono #sagau kabukimono #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #seabird.inbox #seabird.txt #littlemistermedley

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hanniejji · 2 years

Text

curious little vixen

[ tighnari x child!y/n ]

summary: tighnari doesn't remember when he started getting attached to the small human who seemed to take after him. a menace, but only because he is one too. he's not too proud of that but you're smart, so that's a start.

notes: man i love tighnari and his sassy attitude, made this while i have literally nothing to do at work ackckd | m.list

words: 844 | warnings: 'bud' as nickname as in flower bud, 'pup' because young foxes are called pups, and shrimp, used "y/n" one time

"it doesn't look like a rose though."

amused, tighnari pats the tiny human behind him on the head, gently cupping your little hands in his to raise the flower in your palm higher.

"remember what i told you about the flora in sumeru?"

he watches your face twist in a confused pout, peering in the back of your young mind to remember his past lessons. a few seconds of being adorably focused, you perked up, an excited smile appearing on your face.

"flowers in sumeru are named after flowers that look nothing like them!"

"precisely," another pat on your head—he smiles proudly, taking the flower from your hand and intertwining the stem around your tuft of hair tied in a topknot. he fixes the tie with the flower, before pushing himself to stand and offering his hand in your direction.

"you're catching up quite fast, little one."

"i doubt i can reach your level of intelligence," you pout, tiny fingers encased in his hand and curiously watching your surroundings despite having already walked this path so many times. nonetheless, the forest is such a vast corner of knowledge and nature, all waiting to be discovered. it never ceased to juggle your curious little mind, having been around tighnari too much made you very inquisitive and observant.

a fact also never ceased to make tighnari proud and glad that you took after his interest.

thus, he takes it upon himself to take you out to the forest from time to time and slowly teaches you about the things he knows. of course, he makes sure that you're kept safe during the duration of your walks. archon knows what tighnari would do to anyone or anything that dares put you in harm.

"you're still very young, there's plenty of time for you to learn and grow," tighnari helps you cross the tree trunk laying on the slightly high water surface. "although," he grins down at you, keeping you balanced as you walk.

"what?" you tilt your head up to squint your eyes at him, already expecting a witty response.

you know tighnari already well enough to know that he's a tease, he sometimes would playfully tease you by playing harmless little pranks or asking bizarre questions that your little mind can't keep up. no harm done though, he knows his limitations but they're enough to keep you on your toes, prepared to hear the most annoying jest. much like a certain albino who also likes to say the most unfunny jokes.

right now, the mischievous smirk on tighnari's face lets you know that a teasing remark is incoming.

"you have a veeeery long way ahead of you before you can reach my level of intelligence, bud."

you groan, rolling your eyes. of course, why did you not expect this smug scholar to have a slight ego when it comes to his smarts?

"watch me in a few years!"

"sure, pup."

he gently nudges you forward, still holding your hand to keep you from falling the makeshift bridge. "careful, we don't want you walking back to the camp soaked."

oh?

tighnari's ear twitched, already feeling a suspicious tingle and squinting his eyes at you.

"don't."

"i haven't done anything?"

"you're planning to do something."

"i'm nooot."

tighnari stares at you pointedly, letting you walk halfway the tree bridge and following, still being cautious.

the next thing he knows, the two of you are submerged in the river. he barely felt your hand tug at his harshly, bringing him along with you as you both fell off and into the river.

"y/n!"

his head pops out to the surface, shaking the water off his hair and ears. you're laughing loudly, kicking your tiny feet to keep you floating. he glares, but he can't deny that seeing you this carefree makes his chest feel warm. your laughter in the forest is such a perfect fit, something about seeing you this happy in a place that he works so hard to protect fills him with so much pride.

"you should've seen your face!"

"oh shut up, shrimp."

"you have a large variety of nicknames for me, huh."

"c'mon, get out of the water before you get sick. i don't want to spend a single moment nursing a stubborn brat."

despite his words, his hand tightens around your hand as he stirrs you both into the direction of land.

he did, in fact, take care of you as you sneezed into the tissue. blankets are wrapped around your shivering body, an empty bowl on the bedside table and the aroma of freshly made medicine from herbs wafting across tighnari's room.

"you're a menace."

"so are you."

tighnari rolls his eyes, but still tucks you to bed, fixing the blanket around you and eyes softening at the way your breathing relaxes, eyes closing in a peaceful sleep with the help of his medicine.

you are indeed a menace, he guesses it's what he gets for hanging around you for too much. but he wouldn't exchange anything for it in the world.

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malk1ns · 2 months

Note

"Everyone is convinced you aren't actually dating" would be so funny for sidgeno

oh i LOOOOOVEEEEE this one.

reverse trope prompts are here :)

When Kris laughs, Sid seriously considers punching him in the face.

"Good one," Kris says before Sid can do more than clench a fist. "Is this because of the Rossi article from last week? Oh, we're the best of friends, we know each other better than we know ourselves, all those embarrassing quotes, so now you're carrying on with it and pretending you and G are actually dating?"

"No, we—" Sid starts to protest, but Kris just laughs again and hangs up.

Baffled, Sid stares at his phone, then looks over at Geno sitting on the other end of the couch, whose brows are drawn together. "I don't..." he says uncertainly. "He's not believe?"

Sighing, Sid gets up and settles himself into Geno's lap, tucking his head against Geno's neck. "I guess not," he says, muffled, wiggling to get comfortable as Geno wraps his long arms around Sid's torso and pulls them flush. "He saw the article too and thought I was playing along."

Geno hums disapprovingly. "It's not very good story, not very good joke," he mutters. "You call back?"

Sid closes his eyes. They have the windows open to let in the late afternoon breeze off the lake. His home in Halifax is always peaceful, and with the breeze and the summer heat and the distant lapping of the lake, Sid's feeling drowsy. "Maybe tomorrow," he mumbles into Geno's jaw. "Let's take a nap."

Sid's phone blows up the next day. First Flower, because of course, but then Dumo, and PO, and Kuni, and Pascal—guys that are on the team, guys that haven't been on it for years, all of them texting to laugh at him for trying to fake being in a relationship with Geno.

"I don't get it," Sid says, baffled, as yet another text lights up his phone. "That article...I thought we were busted. It was so..."

Geno's tapping gloomily away at his iPad. Sid wisely isn't asking what Ovi's sending him. "Yes, it's like, have to say it first to friends before they read. We practically tell them how long we're together in it, like, why they're not believe?"

They'd forgotten they had agreed to a joint interview for the Athletic until they'd woken up, had sex, and decided to get high. They'd just started feeling it when Geno's phone had gone off with the appointment for the interview in 30 minutes. Sid had gone into the basement while Geno stayed in his office so they couldn't hear each other, but the situation had been so bizarre and only gotten more so as the edibles kicked in that by the end of it Sid was barely containing his laughter, and Geno was no better.

When the article came out a few weeks later, Geno had gone white and Sid immediately called Pat for damage control. They all assumed the worst—Geno's blatant tender emotions for Sid, the way Sid talked about their time together, there was no way nobody would pick up on it. Sid figured they'd get the first inquiry within days, and he and Pat and Geno and JP had sat up on a conference call all night strategizing.

Sid had never really thought about coming out publicly as more than an abstract, but with a plan in place he felt good, prepared.

And then...nobody asked.

A few days went by, and Pat reported all-clear every night when they checked in. Somehow, impossibly, they were going to get away with it.

Sid and Geno had talked, though, and they decided they wanted to tell their friends. Hence the call to Kris, who had apparently decided to text everyone they've ever played with to tell them about Sid's "great joke".

"I have no idea," Sid replies, frowning at his phone as he turns it off. "I mean...maybe..." He hesitates.

The problem is, he kind of gets it. He and Geno have been joined at the hip since 2006, but they didn't actually get together until 2015. By then, they'd heard it all, and vociferously denied it—to friends and family, to their respective girlfriends, and to themselves, until after they were bounced out of the playoffs and Sid went to Geno's house and finally, finally kissed him.

Sid had pictured sneaking around, trying to explain away why they were spending so much time together alone, but...nobody said a thing. Nobody noticed anything different. It really forced Sid to confront just how long they'd been into each other.

So, yeah. Maybe they shouldn't be surprised that nobody believes them.

Geno sighs and tosses his iPad aside. "Whatever," he announces, "they get it soon. Hey, you want to go upstairs?" He wiggles his eyebrows at Sid.

Sid beats up into the bedroom, but it's close.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing

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captain-mj · 2 months

Text

Celebration or Funeral

Graves invites the crew out to a bar for seemingly no reason and hopefully no ulterior motives.

Price was dumbfounded at the audacity honestly. Graves had sent out an invite to the 141 and Alejandro and Rodolfo. Even included plus ones if they had a partner to bring.

He didn't understand at all. It was so bizarre. The invitation was safe. They had a team to check for anthrax and the like. But everything had been given the seal of approval.

There was a time, date, location, even coordinates in case they didn't know the place. He had checked. It was a bar in Texas that was close enough to the border that the Los Vaqueros wouldn't have to travel too far from home. It was close to where they had chased Hassan originally.

The 141 would have to fly of course, but that's cause they were stationed in Urzikstan at the moment.

Price mentioned it offhandedly to Farah, planning to toss it out and never ever seeing that traitor again.

But Farah had smiled at him. "Oh! Yeah, Alex and I were going to go. I'm glad Phillip decided to invite you guys."

"Phillip? You guys are on first name basis now?"

She frowned at him, immediately looking displeased. "Price, remember what we talked about. We've been working together for a while now."

"You can't trust him."

"I never said I did. I simply ask you trust me." Farah huffed. "And I will be going to their outing. He does this with his closest Shadows often and Alex and I always have a nice time. Maybe you all need to come along. It might be good to clear the air since we will continue to work with each other."

Price really wished he could convince Farah to stop working with him, but if she insisted on doing so, he would be there. "Fine. I'll come."

The other three agreed to come immediately, not wanting Price to walk into an ambush, relatively, alone.

The plane ride was... uncomfortable to say the least.

Ghost was currently glowering at Alex who kept glancing over at him and grimacing. He'd sigh passive aggressively and Alex would turn around to glare at him back.

"And why are those two acting like jilted lovers?" Price aske Gaz and Soap.

"Oh, Alex said he and Graves had become friends and Ghost is made because the two of them and Alejandro are friends. He considers it a betrayal to their friendship." Gaz explained.

"Ah. Are you also upset, Soap? You did get shot."

Soap nodded. "Well. I am pissed. But with Makarov around, Graves helping Farah to fight him, and him betraying Shepherd to throw him under the buss, I'm trying to stay level headed about it."

It was a shockingly grounded take. Price wished he could do the same. Inside, the anger was too hot. Too volatile. He didn't know what it was about Graves that just got under his skin, but forgiveness wasn't on the table.

Honestly he wanted to just beat him into the ground. Hurt him like he had hurt Soap and Ghost in Los Almas. Like he had hurt the Vaqueros.

He felt like a rabid dog when he thought of it. Normally, he was so much better at keeping his emotions in check.

Farah patted him suddenly and he glanced up at her. "Do you want a drink, old man?"

"Yeah. I could use one." He stood up and followed her to the cabin. The plane used to be a private one, but it had been repurposed for Farah and her Freedom Fighters. It was better for long distances than a helicopter and it had better optics when they had to make speeches or talk with government operations.

Farah didn't keep much alcohol on board, but she did keep a thing of whiskey for the two of them to share. She poured them both a glass and he took it from her gratefully.

"I understand why you're upset."

"And I understand why you're working with him." Price interrupted. "I do. I promise. It's just an adjustment. Especially finding out you socialize with him."

"Mostly I socialize with Oz actually."

"Oz?"

"His second in command! He's great. Very cool. He's shown me how to play video games." Farah smiled so softly, almost like she was embarrassed.

Price smiled a little himself, thinking of Farah being... normal. She had fought for so long. Her entire childhood spent in hell. If she enjoyed spending time with this "Oz" guy, he must not be awful. "Okay. I'm going to give all of them a chance, alright?''

"Thank you, Price. I do appreciate it." Farah squeezed his arm. "Really. I hope we can all work amicably."

They settled back down with the others and rested for this rest of the plane ride.

The moment they touched down, Farah and Alex were quickly getting out. Price bit his tongue and hung back, the 141 one quickly following his lead, even though Gaz did glance at Alex and Alex did glance back.

"Try to play nice. No unnecessary fights." Price ordered, patting Gaz's back.

"Aye, Captain." Soap responded.

Ghost stayed very quiet, only giving the slightest nod.

"At ease."

They didn't really separate. Maybe it was unease at being on unfamiliar turf or the fact that they were all enemies.

Alejandro was smoking near his car, Rudy at his right. His body language shifted, relaxing at the same time the grin appeared on his face. "Hermanos!"

Soap smiled. "Alejandro, Rodolfo. Long time no see."

Alejandro grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug. Soap did the same with Rodolfo.

Gaz nodded at them. "Colonel Vargas. Sergeant Major Parra."

"I feel we're on a first name by now, Sergeant Garrick." Rodolfo smiled at him. "Nice to see you again."

Alejandro nodded but jumped into business. "Our invitation said this was an... apology. You guy's mention anything about this?"

"No. Just an invitation."

"Interesting. Let's head inside."

The bar itself was full of people. It took Price a moment before he realized it, but, with the exception of the bartender, every person in the room was a Shadow. All of them were in civvies, but he recognized a few of them from chance in encounters. They all talked about their work with no issues.

Alex had a cowboy hat on. For some reason, this was something he noticed immediately. He was currently downing a pint, trying to drink it faster than a dark haired woman who was currently beating him.

Farah was chatting animatedly with a giant man with strange makeup on. HIs hair was set up a bit like a vikings would be. He was smiling at her and nodding excitedly.

Price didn't like it.

The giant man looked at him and quickly looked... embarrassed? It was an odd look on such a big man.

Farah followed his gaze and waved Price over. He quietly walked over, keeping an eye out on everyone. Most people were drunk or getting there so there weren't many threats.

Oz smiled at him, standing up. Price didn't like that he had to tilt his head up to look him in the eye.

"It is nice to meet you, Captain. You too, Colonel. The rest of you." Oz seemed unsure of himself.

"Oz, I'm assuming?"

"Yes, sir." Oz nodded.

Farah smiled. "We were talking about a game he showed me! It's called Terraria. It's so much fun!"

"Now, Osmond." There was that familiar accent. Graves was smiling, looking... stupidly casual. A flannel shirt, tight jeans, a belt buckle. A walking stereotype of American. "Please tell me you haven't converted Farah to your nerdy shit."

"Hey!" Farah defended him. "It's fun!"

Graves shook his head, a bright blush on his face from intoxication. "Whatever you say, ma'am." He looked at them. For a moment, he made eye contact with Price and it was like a lightning bolt. But then his eyes skipped right over to him to Alejandro. He took a deep breath. "It's nice to see you again, Colonel. And you, Sergeant Major."

"The feeling is not mutual."

Graves stepped a bit closer, on the very edge of his personal space. "Alright. Hit me."

Alejandro frowned.

"One free hit. Consider it the start of us getting even with each other. There's no guns in here. No one is going to stop you and I'm not going to hit you back. So, hit me."

Alejandro weighed his options for a split second before socking Graves so hard on the side of his jaw that Oz had to catch him before he stumbled.

Graves took a split second, blinking involuntary tears from his eyes. He faced him again. "Great. Your drinks are on us." Despite the freshly blooming bruise, he still managed a rather charming smile.

Alejandro shook his head but stepped back. Rudy didn't.

"Only fair I let you have one, yeah?" Graves smiled right before Rodolfo hit him hard in the stomach.

"Stay out of Los Almas." Rudy hissed to him.

"I was planning on it, amigo." Graves managed to straighten up after a minute. "You four aren't getting a hit."

"Gonna let me shoot you later?" Soap growled at him.

Graves laughed. "Nah. Have as many shots as you want though." He nodded at them and walked away, clearly hurting a little but playing it off.

Price ordered the most expensive whiskey available. He downed a shot, keeping an eye on Graves as he went to each table. His hands touched every Shadow's shoulder. It was a light touch but Price recognized it. He did the same thing when the 141 came back from missions. A light touch to let him know they were alive.

"John." Simon muttered. "How are we feeling?"

"I'm following the Colonel's lead. He seems to be trying to run up a tab. I'm going to do the same. Farah also seems... happy. A normal friendship outside of the military will be good for her. Or as close as this is."

Ghost nodded and sat next to him. They observed them for a good minute before Gaz slunk to Price's other side. Soap was mingling.

There was country music playing. It sounded modern, but Price didn't exactly listen to the genre. He sighed and ordered another whiskey, hoping to keep himself just drunk enough to relax but not so drunk he couldn't fight.

As the songs flipped through, Price got tipsy enough to mildly enjoy himself. His friends had left him at some point, not too far away, just around.

Something came on the radio and Graves climbed on to a table. The top few buttons of his shirt had been undone and he was panting a little bit.

"Turn that motherfucker off!"

"Come on, Graves it's just one song!"

"No! I've hated that motherfucker for ages and suddenly he wants to prounce around like a little bastard. That motherfuckers went to a fucking private school! Get his ass off my radio!" Graves hissed.

Price swallowed thickly. Maybe it was the whiskey, of which he was a few glasses down. Maybe it was the sudden anger and passion in his face. But he felt flushed from more than alcohol.

The next song, which sounded like a love ballad to him, seemed to please Graves who started to sing along. Despite the table being wooden, it held his weight as he stomped his boots on it. He smiled brightly as he did and someone handed him a whiskey bottle to drink during the chorus.

Price made eye contact with him and quickly glanced around to talk to his team.

HIs team which was not there.

Ghost and Simon had started to banter, making fun of people in the room despite never looking away from each other.

Gaz, who now had that cowboy hat on, had gotten swept up in Alex, the two of them currently dancing. Alex was a little out of step, his prosthetic leg probably making it harder.

Farah was now dancing with one of the pretty Shadows. The two of them twirling around.

Even Alejandro and Rodolfo were staring at each other, Rudy's hand was on Alejandro's chest.

Fuck. He didn't have anyone around.

Price looked back up at Graves who had looked away but somehow a few more of his buttons had come undone. His head tilted back, showing off a pretty neck. Fuck, his chest was heaving, breath puffing out of him.

They were making eye contact again. Graves licked his bottom lip and drank more of his whiskey.

Price got up and went to the bathroom. He took off his hat for a moment and splashed his face with water to try to sober up a little.

"Price." That fucking accent sounded from behind him. Maybe he should've hid in one of the stalls. But that would've felt juvenile.

"Graves." He looked in the mirror at him.

The man smiled. "Sorry if I'm interrupting. You alright?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" Price growled out, watching those red cheeks got redder.

Graves shrugged a little. "Don't know. Maybe I'm projecting on ya a little." He looked away, drinking more of the bottle.

"I'm angry."

"is it all at me?"

"No. Not just you." Price sighed and straightened up. He walked over until he was standing over him. Graves straightened up a little but he let Price take the bottle from his hand. His eyes followed his lips as he took a long drink.

Graves sighed. "Good?"

"Cheap tasting." Price tried to tease him, but it fell flat.

The pretty blue eyes peering up at him wouldn't let him go. It was infuriating. He found himself leaning down, lips pressing against Graves's, tasting the whiskey off of them. His tongue darted out to deepen it. For a blissful moment, his mouth opened up to let Price in.

Then he was turning away. "This isn't going to fuck up your team, is it?"

Price blinked and it was like reality slammed into him. "It is."

Graves smiled sadly. "John, I'd love to. But I'd be a right ass fucking up what you got going on. I think I've done enough damage."

"It'd feel great. God, I'd treat you right."

He laughed and Price felt his stomach clench. The rest of the whiskey bottle was slipped into his hand. They shared another kiss, tongues chasing each other.

"If you're sober, and still want to, go ahead and call me."

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #Price x Graves #Graves x Price #Captain John Price #jason aldean hater #kyle gaz garrick

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roxineedstosleep · 2 years

Note

Hello!

I wanted to request a yan! platonic batfamily with a reader who gets ignored in their real family so they usually spend their time causing trouble around Gotham.

Well… as it was not specified whether it was one shot or headcanon. I'll do a headcanon (sorry if it wasn't what you wanted).

*****************************************

Bruce and Alfred are too used to the idea of neglectful fathers. Jason, Tim and Steph's father ring a bell?

So, if you cause minor problems like shoplifting, speeding down the track, getting in trouble during a protest or some minor charge, I really feel they would let you get away with some of it the first few times.

You're not an immediate risk like the Joker or Deathshot. you're just a minor criminal. But if it's the 15th time you've been taken to the police station, and the 15th time your parents have stood you up there… let's just say you catch their interest.

Even more so if they see that even the precinct officers themselves treat you so casually. They call you by nicknames, give you little scoldings, help you with your injuries and keep you in a cell away from the other criminals; real Gotham criminals.

Hell, you even had a nice poster of your favourite band in your cell!

I can tell you for a fact that Jason almost broke his helmet mouthpiece when he saw how one of the detectives brought you a little minicake from the vending machine to sing you a birthday song along with the staff on duty. But only to get yelled at and threatened by your parents when you were taken out a few hours later.

How could they do that?

Damian would even rethink his new teachings when he saw how the other criminals in town were better at guiding you than your own parents. What kind of parent leaves their own offspring in the middle of winter with nothing but slippers? No wonder you had to steal some coats and proper shoes. Not to mention stealing some hats and blankets for the homeless people who gave you shelter that night.

You where their blood, why?

Dick would definitely stop you from doing anything if he could, they left you without food or anything to buy? he'd sure give you his cereal bars and some snacks he carries with him so you wouldn't have to steal the junk from any shops.

You were so young!

Tim was surprised to discover that the police records of all the precincts had more photos of you and better medical records than the hospital where you were born. You had almost no medical records. But there wasn't much CPS could do for you either. It was either those horrid creatures for parents, or an overcrowded foster home that would send you to the first bad-ass correctional facility.

They treath you like a plastic bag... how?

Bruce was furious. And he thought he was a bad father… well, you had your terrible mistakes, but he never thought he'd do that to any of his kids. How could they do that to you?

How they dare?

Then it just happened.

Another arrest, but instead of listening to your parents' screams and insults, Bruce Wayne comes in and asks them to get you out of there.

It all happens so fast… or it's all SO bizarre that you just let a stranger drive you away in one of his many expensive cars. He takes you to a mansion, puts you in a room, the only butler almost feeds you in your mouth and a group of 4 boys come in to hug and cuddle you.

You don't react at all. why do you suddenly get so much love all at once? you don't move. you basically live in vegetable form for a few days until you want to walk out the door and you find that you can't. you don't move.

You try again, but nothing.

And when you want to ask how to get out of there, everyone treats you like a fool and tries to distract you with other activities.

Basically they treat you like a stray cat that has to be locked in the house to become a house cat. And they don't plan to let you go until you fulfil that role.

Why go out on the street and live in misery if you can be happy and warm with them?

#yandere batfamily #yandere batman #yandere batfam x reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere alfred pennyworth #yandere batboys #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere platonic

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rocknrollbabe14 · 6 months

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You Make Everyday Feel Like It's Christmas (Joe X Reader)

You Make Everyday Feel Like It’s Christmas

Summary: It’s your second Christmas with Joe. Christmas has a new meaning for you this year. But you’ve always loved this time of year. But this time, you want to bring a little holiday cheer to your fiancé. Joe doesn’t “hate” Christmas but he’s not quite feeling up to it this year. Can you manage to get him in the Christmas spirit? Or will he be a scrooge?

Prompts: Shopping, “I cannot believe you’re making me go shopping on Christmas Eve.”// “Don’t be a Scrooge.”// “I’m freezing, come warm me up.”// baking

Rating: 18+ (for the fact at the end, it alludes to premarital sex)

Also, special thanks to @josephs-quinns for making my header and making my visions come to life. Love you ❤️❤️❤️

You were never one to put off Christmas shopping. Matter of fact, you thought people were crazy for waiting until the very last day to finish their Christmas shopping. The thought alone made your stomach twist with anxiety, making it feel like it was bubbling up into your throat. How could people be so calm when they were working against the clock to make last minute Christmas magic happen? You had never understood it—until now.

“I can’t believe you’re making me go shopping on Christmas Eve.”, Joe groaned as he slid on his peacoat, fixing his scarf just perfect around his neckline.

The weather in London was absolutely frigid in comparison to what you were used to in the United States. Moving to London to be with your fiancé was something that you never imagined would be on your bingo card. But, here you were. You had been together for almost two years now and you knew that being engaged in under two years sounded a little bizarre, but Joe had claimed he knew from the beginning that you were the one for him.

You knew how it sounded. It sounded very cliché looking back, but you loved him and you were happy with him. This was only the second Christmas you both were spending with each other. Tomorrow’s plans were clear. You were spending half Christmas Day with his mom and his stepdad and the other with his dad and his stepmom. Joe never really had talked a lot about his parents divorce and how his childhood was.

Fortunately, you couldn’t relate. Your mom and dad had been happily married for thirty years. The plan was to fly in and see them the week after Christmas with Joe in tow. At first, you weren’t sure how your parents would take you moving to another country to be with your fiancé. However they both were supportive of your relationship.

They had always been supportive of you and your decisions throughout life, making comments that they had raised a smart daughter, you had your head on your shoulders, etc. All the ones most parents said about their responsible children. It made your feel good, made you feel like you had completed your due diligence of being their child.

You rolled your eyes playfully at Joe before laughing lightly. “Come on, babe. Don’t be a Scrooge.”

Joe sighed lightly. “I’m not being a Scrooge. Just wondering why we waited until the absolute last minute to buy my mum and dad’s presents along our mate’s.”, he tried to feign a fake smile and chuckle.

Something with his energy seemed off, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“They were your friends first. And you can’t show up to your parent’s houses empty handed.”

Joe held your peacoat, helping you slip into it. One thing about him was certain. He was a gentleman.

“It’s going to be so busy.”, he groaned lightly.

He wasn’t doing such a great job at hiding his disdain for the holiday activity you both were about to take part in.

“Why don’t we just try and make the best of it? You know I hate waiting until last minute to do anything especially Christmas shopping. My anxiety is through the roof.”, you admitted as he grabbed the door knob, opening the door to your all’s house that you shared.

Immediately, you both felt the nip of the winter wind causing you both to grimace. You pulled your peacoat tighter, beginning to button it quick and in a hurry. It was something you had learned to do in the past year of living here.

“I’m going to try.”, he looked at you. “I started the car so it’d be warm for us.”

“Thanks.”, you smiled softly as he let you out the door first, carefully locking it behind you both.

He rushed down the steps in order to make it to the car before you did. A smile came across your face as you remembered why. Him being the gentleman his parents had raised him to be, there was no way you were opening your own car door. He never gave the opportunity for that to happen and he wouldn’t either. It was something that was important to him, just one of the many he ways he showed you he cared.

You looked up at him, feeling the cold air nip at your nose. He finally gave you a soft smile as he opened the car door, making sure you got in safely, and closed the door once he mad sure your appendages had made it safely into the car. You watched him through the defrosted windshield coming over to the other side, wasting no time in getting before shutting the door. He rubbed his hands together easily, shivering lightly.

Joe wasn’t usually affected by the cold. He was used to it, being raised in London and all. Winters were harsher there. He had told you that before you moved to be with him. He was brutally honest about everything before allowing you to move to be with him. But you respected that.

“Cold?”, you asked lightly.

“I’m freezing.”, he admitted with a soft chuckle as he leaned over, giving you the perfect position to kiss him in. “Warm me up.”

He flashed his puppy dog brown eyes at you playfully, the ones he used when he was being a little cheeky. You’d never admit it with words, but he already knew that he could win you over with that look.

“When we get home.”, you smirked back at him before leaning down and giving him a kiss.

“Fine.”, he feigned being hurt.

You smirked over at him as you linked your phone to his car. One way or another, you were determined to get him in the Christmas spirit no matter what it took. Scrolling through your phone, you decided on a song finally to kick off the car ride. The beginning notes of “Like It’s Christmas” by the Jonas Brothers came on, causing you to begin giggling to yourself. Joe shot you a look immediately, a coy smirk working its way across his lips.

“Really?”, he asked through a small laugh.

“Come on, babe. It’s one of my favorites.”

“I’m aware, love. Just didn’t know we had to endure the boy bands along with the other chaos surrounding today.”

Your eyes panned down to your lap, trying to ignore the pang in your chest. He didn’t mean it like that, did he? Shaking your head lightly, you continued to try and convince yourself that he didn’t mean it like that. The happy, bright Christmas music continued to play in the background but now you weren’t really in the mood to sing now. Joe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as you all continued to the mall. You were beginning to wonder if this was the best idea. But you were determined to put him in the Christmas spirit. That was your ultimate goal.

“I’m kidding.”, he choked out.

But you didn’t really feel like he was joking.

After a little convincing, he finally got you singing even if he wasn’t doing much of it himself.

As Joe searched for parking, you could begin to tell his patience was beginning to wear thin. He swore a little, a few obscenities coming out of his mouth at how crowded and congested it was. Once he noticed you had heard him or was watching him, he abruptly cut them short. He was trying his best for you whether you knew it or not. He was struggling to be in the spirit this year but how could he tell you? The answer was simple. He wouldn’t.

It had taken a week or two after Thanksgiving for him to finally get his ass in gear and help you put the tree up. He remembered you saying back home, you usually put the tree up after Thanksgiving. Like literally the night of or the next day. He could remember laughing, thinking you were a little obsessed with Christmas but he found it cute, if he was being honest. It’s part of what made you—well, you. He didn’t understand what was really going on with him this year.

But he didn’t have much time to think about that as he shifted the car, placing it in park and eyes panning over to you.

“Ready, love?”, he asked with a sigh.

“Yes.”

"Here goes nothing.”, he smirked easily.

Westfield was always busy. But it was especially busy at Christmas time. Today, was no exception. Maybe it was even worse. Joe was going to go with worse.

“So where are we going first?”, he asked, grabbing your hand lightly.

“Uh—what about we hit up Burberry? Weren’t you wanting to get your dad a new scarf?”

Joe shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess?”, you repeated back. “Joe, I need you to help me here. You know your family and friends better than I know them. I get we’ve been together almost two years but you know more of what they like.”

“Sure, we can get dad a new Burberry scarf Sounds good, love.”

Entering the mall, Joe could feel his blood pressure rising. It was so crowded—especially to be Christmas Eve. Hadn’t people finished already? They should have, you all included. Joe began to tug at his scarf lightly, feeling as though it was choking him. He needed to breathe.

“Can you at least give me some input? Gifts are special. I love gift giving. It’s my love language.”

Joe also loved to give—taking his friends out to eat or cooking a meal, buying you things here and there just to show you he loved you and cared so you were confused as to why he was being indifferent now.

“I know, love.”

You sighed lightly as you felt like you had to practically drag him into Burberry. The employee greeted you both, asking if you were looking for anything specific. You explained you’d like to find a scarf for your future father in law. She led you to the patterned scarves, leaving you both to make the decision on which would fit Joe’s dad the best.

“What about this one?”, you turned back to show him the archived beige cashmere scarf.

“Yeah, looks good.”

Joe barely flicked his eyes up from his cell phone.

“Joe.”

Joe’s eyes pulled up from his cell phone once again.. “I said it looks good, love. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

You huffed lightly in frustration before closing your eyes and trying to remind yourself what today was about. Yes, Joe was being totally intolerable right now but you were still very much in the Christmas spirit and you were not about to let him ruin that for you. You would convert him before it was all said and done.

Picking up the scarf, your voice came out sharper than you had intended. “Okay, let’s checkout.”

What was so important on his phone that it couldn’t wait? This behavior was very unusual for him. He never let anything distract him around you—not his phone, not anything. He followed you to the counter, wasting no time in handing you his wallet to pay for everything. Sighing, you forked over his debit card and watched as the cashier swiped it and handed it back to you, allowing you to place it back in his wallet. She asked if this was a gift (it was a different associate than earlier) to which you answered yes.

Proceeding, she asked if you all wanted it gift wrapped. Once again, you found yourself being the only one to answer her question. It was as if she could sense some tension between you both.

“Finishing up last minute Christmas shopping?”, she tried to make casual conversation.

“Yeah, we’re usually never this late.”, you fake laughed.

She sensed it. “It happens to the best of us.”

“It does.”, you agreed, almost gritting your teeth and hoping Joe could hear the annoyance laced in your voice.

“Here you are. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Thank you for shopping with us today.”

A fake smile spread across your lips. “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you as well.”

Once again, Joe was not interacting with you, this only causing for your blood to boil further. However, he finally put his cell phone away for a few minutes. You were glad—because you were afraid you would have said something you may have regretted. You didn’t want to fight with him today. Sure, every couple has their disagreements but which ones argue near Christmas time? You didn’t want you all to be the one. After taking a small break to run to the restroom and talk some sense into yourself and attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, you felt a little more positive.

“So what all do we need?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“What all are you planning on getting everyone? All we have so far is a Burberry sweater for your dad.”

“Uh, let’s see.”, Joe began. “I guess we can get Wes some top shelf booze.”

“Okay. That leaves Ollo and your mom.”

“I’m not sure what to get Ollo.”, Joe admitted.

“Doesn’t he like photography?”

Every answer that you were getting from Joe was like pulling teeth. It didn’t—and shouldn’t be this hard to pick up gifts for your loved ones. You spent a lot of time throughout the year thinking of the perfect gifts to give everyone in your life. You didn’t understand what was holding him up. Finally, you decided to help him.

“What about a new sleek leather camera bag?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

Good. That was the best adjective he could come up with to describe what you considered to be a very thoughtful gift for his friend. The rest of the day felt almost like agony. You all had spent more time than you had intended at the mall, totaling five hours in what could have only taken a couple of hours. It was five-thirty, almost six. The mall was closing at six. Joe carried most of the bags. It seemed like it was totally against his will which only dampened your mood further.

You all had gotten Ollo his leather camera bag, Wes his top shelf booze, and his mom a Gucci scarf and gloves.

“Ready to go, love? They’re closing in thirty minutes. And I don’t know about you but I’m so ready to get out of here and head home.”

“Yeah.”, came your short response.

You were at the end of your fuse. Walking towards the exit, Joe attempted to grab your hand with his free one. Loosely, you allowed him to intertwine his with yours, hoping he would get the hint. But it didn’t seem that he had yet. The winter wind nipped at your nose as you all walked outside to the car. Joe let go of your hand to unlock the car door. And before he could even attempt to come to your side and open the door for you, you beat him to the punch.

Frustrated and hurt didn’t even begin to describe your emotions right now. Joe looked confused as you slammed the door shut lightly, grabbing your seatbelt and fastening it. You watched in the mirror as he shook it off and loaded all the bags inside the car before getting in himself and starting the car. Your phone automatically linked back up, Christmas songs beginning to play in a loop. You were no longer in the mood to be joyous and in the spirit.

“Love?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay? You seem—off.”

Joe tried to start the conversation lightly, easing into it.

“I’m fine.”, you insisted, crossing your arms.

Your body language definitely indicated otherwise.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”, you snapped, almost instantly regretting it but it was enough for him to stop prodding.

The rest of the car ride home was in silence other than the radio playing upbeat Christmas songs. Ones you would usually sing along to, but not today. Not now. Ten minutes away from home, you cut the radio off and let the rest of the ride be in complete silence. Joe knew he had fucked up and in a big way. The sun had set by the time you all pulled into your driveway. The outside light illuminated the driveway as he placed the car in park, shutting it off.

You wasted no time in unbuckling and grabbing your fair share of presents to carry inside.

“Do you have the house keys?”, you asked dryly.

“Yeah, here.”, Joe handed them to you and he could have sworn you almost ripped them out of his hands.

He watched as you marched up to the door, unlocking it, and disappeared inside. It took him a few minutes to catch up, but when he entered the house he noticed you had set everything down on the couch and had disappeared into the bedroom. The door was closed. His brown eyes panned to the Christmas tree, the one you always plugged in as soon as you all arrived home from whatever errands you had to run. It sat in darkness. His heart sank knowing something was wrong with you.

He sat the armful of presents on the couch beside your pile before he hurriedly kicked his shoes off, racing to your all’s shared bedroom. He turned the doorknob but it didn’t open.

“Baby?”

No answer. You had never given him the silent treatment before. Sighing, he tried the door again but to no avail. It was obvious you didn’t want to be bothered. What had he done that was so wrong? He needed to figure it out and fast. Walking back over to the couch, he sat done on the section that was clear of the pile of presents. What could he do to fix whatever he had broken? The house was silent. The silence only feeding into his dilemma.

He didn’t have much time to wallow in his woes before his phone dinged. Wasting no time, he picked it up and looked at the name. Wes.

-Hey. What time are we doing dinner Tuesday?

Joe typed back quickly.

-We were thinking around six. Does that work?

A swoosh indicated his message had sent.

It was just a few seconds before his phone dinged again.

-Sounds good. Finish up your last minute Christmas shopping with Y/N?

He sighed before typing back.

-Yeah, we did. But I feel like she’s mad at me.

-How come?

Joe sighed, beginning to text with a recount of the day. He started from the very beginning and worked his way through your all’s entire day. Joe’s heart sank into his stomach, realizing where and how he had probably went wrong once he saw the entire day in a tangible, typed messaged. From the beginning, he hadn’t seemed very thrilled that you all were going last minute Christmas shopping. Then, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with your music choices.

-I know Christmas is usually hard for you and it’s not exactly your favorite. Especially since your parents divorced. But it sounds like she was really trying to include you and make you happy this Christmas. It’s your first as an engaged couple. She may feel like you could care less and she’s hurt by that.

-How do I fix it?

Joe felt stupid even sending that question to Wes. But he needed an idea where to start.

-Give in and get in the Christmas spirit.

Wesley made it sound so easy. But before Wesley could even respond, Joe had an idea brewing in his head. He had been really shitty in the fiancé department today, especially when you tried to include him in the sing-alongs in the car, picking out his friends and family’s Christmas presents (which you helped put a lot of thought in, proving you cared about them just as much as he did), and just making the best of the day together with someone you loved.

Rising from the couch, he went over and plugged the tree in. It instantly lit up the small corner of the living room, making it feel more cozy and comfy. He admired it for a moment, the glare of the lights on the tree reflecting on the various pictures of you both hanging on the wall. In all the pictures, you both looked so happy and in love. Step one was complete.

Joe’s phone dinged again, reminding him that he hadn’t viewed the message from Wes. But he didn’t think he needed to. He knew what he needed to do. Making his way into the kitchen, he flipped on the lights and pulled a few ingredients from the fridge before slipping your very merry apron on. You had a special one just for the holidays to make things a little more festive. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. It made him smile. You did the cutest things.

His mom always made the best gingerbread cookies at Christmas time. And he was about to attempt to recreate that recipe. They probably wouldn’t be as good as hers, but it was worth a try, right? He had made them with her most of the time, especially when he was a little boy. It was time to keep the tradition alive. What else could be better to set the mood than putting on a little Christmas music?

He turned on the playlist you had made, specifically for the holidays. You had shared it with him on Spotify. The festive music began filling the house as he mixed the ingredients in a bowl, landing the flour everywhere but where it needed to go. The kitchen almost looked slightly hazy, causing him to laugh lightly. He had to admit this was kinda fun, making him feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. All he needed was you to make this feel complete.

Another idea popped into his brain, one he could maybe use to coerce you out of the bedroom. You loved hot chocolate. Swiss Miss was your favorite with the tiny little marshmallows but you always added some more to give it the perfect amount. Digging in the cabinets, he found a packet. He followed the instructions and heated up a cup of hot water before mixing the packet of hot chocolate mix into it. He managed to find your stash of mini marshmallows and poured a few into the cup, making it look like something out of Hallmark movie.

He had paused his baking because he needed you to help him finish them. It didn’t feel right to continue on without you. Grabbing your cup of hot chocolate, he closed his eyes and attempted to talk himself up before reaching the bedroom door. He knocked gently.

“Love. Can you open up?”

A few seconds went by and he wondered if you were going to let him in or continue to shut him out. His hope was fading, a sigh escaping him as he almost turned to go. But you opened the door, sniffling lightly.

“Joe?”

“Yes, love?”, he spun around carefully, keeping the hot chocolate from spilling.

“Did you make me—hot chocolate?”

“I did.”

“You added the marshmallows just like I like them.”

He laughed nervously. “Of course I did. I know how much you love them.”

You smiled lightly, your sniffles fading. He could tell you had been crying and that made him feel even worse. It was like a dagger through his heart. He hated seeing you sad and didn’t even want to think about you crying.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk today. I wasn’t the best fiancé. And for that, I’m sorry. Christmas has just always been a difficult time for me.”, he looked down nervously at his feet before looking back up at you.

Your face was sympathetic. “Joe.”

“And I realize you were just trying to make me feel better and include me in the holiday festivities. I’m very sorry I was such an ass today.”

“Joe.”

“I love you baby and I just—”

“Joe.”, you spoke louder, trying to gain his attention, finally succeeding even if you had to interrupt his sentence. “Are you making something gingerbread or are you burning one of my candles?”

“I’m attempting to bake using my mother’s recipe for gingerbread man cookies. It only seems fitting you help me—if you want to.”

“Of course, I do.”, you came closer and leaned in, placing a kiss on his cheek. “And can I have my hot chocolate before it becomes cold chocolate?”, you teased.

“Yeah.”, he laughed nervously before handing it to you, you following behind him.

You noticed he had plugged the tree up, giving light to the living room. It was one of your favorite things at Christmas time. Seeing the tree light up the room in almost complete darkness.

“You plugged the tree in?”, you asked, taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

It felt like a warm hug.

“I did.”, he smiled back at you, the sparkle finally in his brown eyes.

“And you’re playing my Christmas playlist.”

A smirk was creeping across your face.

“I am.”, he smiled back at you.

You couldn’t help but smile as you followed him into the kitchen, noticing all the ingredients and gingerbread cookie cutters on the counter hidden in a pile of flour. He was really trying and that meant more to you than anything.

“Christmas has just been hard for me since my parents divorced. I’m sorry—it’s not fair to you. I just remember the holidays being difficult because I had to split time between both sides of my family and between both parents. They love me and I’m thankful for that—I even feel selfish for feeling this way but it was hard when all my friends got to celebrate with their perfect families.”, Joe began rolling the dough out.

“I’m sorry that it’s been difficult for you, babe. But we have each other now. We’re family—we can start our own traditions. We can see your parents but maybe set some traditions up just for us?”

Joe looked over at you. “I’d love that.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

“Maybe soon we can make these with our kids.”

You giggled. “I’d love that. So much.”

You both leaned in and shared a soft, tender kiss. As you both pulled away to admire each other, your favorite modern Christmas song came on. The one from earlier, the Jonas Brother’s “Like It’s Christmas”. Joe couldn’t help but begin to smirk as you both pulled away.

The snow on the ground, love in the air

The sleigh bells are ringing

This is what it’s all about

The fire is warm, the angles are singing

Joe watched you intently, smiling from ear to ear as he watched you begin singing the lyrics. It was a matter before he joined in on the second part.

And I don’t want to miss a single thing

Don’t wanna put end to all this cheer

But as long as you’re with me, it’s always the time of the year

You both sang the chorus, looking deeply into each other’s eyes as you continued to work on cutting out gingerbread men.

You make every day feel like it’s Christmas

Never wanna stop

Feeling’ like the first thing on your wishlist

Right up at the top

I can’t deny what I’m feeling inside

Nothin’ fake about the way you bring me to life

You make every day feel like it’s Christmas

Ever day that I’m with you

“You do know the lyrics.”, you teased him, taking another sip of your hot chocolate while raising your eyebrows.

“Only because it’s true.”

“What’s true?”

“You make everyday feel like it’s Christmas. Like you’re the best present I’ve ever received and you make me the happiest man in the entire world and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you.”, you sighed dreamily.

“I love you too.”

“Wanna start on that new tradition?”

“And what’s that?”, Joe teased.

“Well, if you’re serious about making these cookies with our own babies in a few years.”

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

“By the way, the holiday apron—very sexy.”, you smirked, sitting your hot chocolate down.

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph x reader #joseph quinn #stranger things #established couple #eddie stranger things #Spotify #12 days of joemas

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apomaro-mellow · 11 months

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go ahead and take the 1st draft of my “steve being sacrificed to demon!eddie thing”. it’s unfinished and im goin in a totally new direction with the next draft but i did like parts of this. this one has more of a cult feel.

Around 11 he was a growing lad who was expected to cause a little trouble. Then at 14 he was a young man with a promising future.

Growing up, there was one part he was always dreading. The point where people tried to set him up with their daughters, or granddaughters, or nieces. He heard pieces of such transactions all the time. ‘Oh you must meet my daughter.’ ‘You know Celia is about your age...’ ‘So have you got a girlfriend?’

He tried not to feel so offended by it. But it was just so bizarre.

“Steve, it’s time we discussed your future”, his father said, letting out a puff of cigar smoke.

“What about it...exactly?”, Steve asked.

“That sometimes we must defer to a higher power.”

“....Right...”

“Steven”, one of the other men started. “You ever take one for the team?”

“Yeah, plenty of times. But what are you guys talking about what’s going on?”, Steve asked.

“Come with me, son.”

Steve got up and followed his father. The other men came along down the stairs into the basement of the clubhouse. But then it went deeper.

“History is filled with ambitious figures, Steve. People who did whatever it took to reach their goals. Tonight it’s up to you to take us even higher.”

“Up to me? What do you want me to do?”

“Mom, Dad...what are we doing here?”

“The higher power we worship will give us fortune beyond what we could dream of”, his father said. “But everything has its price.”

Lawrence, 50, with an unconvincing hairpiece stood over him. Steve never liked Lawrence. He always looked at him weird and his touches lingered like he was inspecting a piece of meat.

He was doing it now, trailing a hand up his tied up arm.

“I can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice, Steven. And your parents for bringing up such good stock. I have no doubt he will be pleased with you.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on but there’s no way you’re going to kill me for-for what? More money?”

His mother came into view, her expression mournful and Steve wanted to vomit.

“Steve, my love, we won’t be killing you. We could never do that. We just need a bit of your blood. After that....well after that....”

“Our lord will do what he wants with you. And with their lot I can only imagine he will want to devour your soul”, his father finished.

“So you are killing me.”

“We won’t be dealing the killing blow”, his father said. “And who is to say you won’t survive?”

That didn’t make this situation any less shitty though.

They both cut a slit right in the center of his palms and he hissed. They then took his blood and drew a symbol on his stomach.

“Whoa! You’ve got a real party going on here”, a voice said, coming down the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?”, one of the chanters demanded.

Steve craned his neck to see....some guy. It was just some guy, in a black tank top and ripped jeans.

“Who? Me?”, he came to the bottom of the steps and looked around. “Was I not summoned? I thought I heard my name.”

“Someone get this fool out of here!”

This was real! Fuck this was real! A real demon with horns and claws and fangs and shit-were those wings?! He had to get out of here, even if that meant ripping his hands and feet off to escape.

Turned out that was the wrong move. In seconds, the demon crossed the room on all fours and climbed atop the slab to hover over Steve.

“My lord”, Steve’s father said in an impressively even tone. “We offer you our greatest sacrifice-” He was cut off with a deep growl, one that Steve felt in his bones, being this close.

“Just take it”, Steve said. “Take whatever you want.”

The demon laughed darkly. “I always do.”

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #1.3k that i hope is worth somethin #even tho im basically abandoning this version #i just kinda like the idea of cultists worshipping something #summoning it and it just some guy at 1st #i feel like that's an eddie thing to do #look unassuming at first

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ellephlox · 2 years

Text

Devil's (Bad) Luck

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Summary: You get cursed to be extremely unlucky for a day. Matt has to deal with the fallout — in other words, every inconvenience now bombarding you, including (but not limited to) spiders, falling stop signs, and running into Wilson Fisk.

Warnings: None, only some light profanity!

It was one thing to know that magic existed, and another to experience it with the complete firsthand, fairy-dust-in-your-face 3D encounter.

Seriously, though, it was actually a sparkly dust, and at first you weren’t sure whether to laugh or swear when a hooded man arrived out of nowhere and drenched you in glitter. You were in the library, picking up three books you’d ordered for the week — a short one that you felt sure you could devour tomorrow, since it was supposed to rain; another one that you hoped you were going to like since it had a lot of praise; and lastly, a third that you got as a Plan C in case one of the first two didn’t draw you in as you had hoped.

It was then, that you were mulling over the third book and whether or not it was a reliable Plan C, when the glitter hit you in the face.

If you were anyone other that you, then you probably would have laughed it off, or at least just said something to the hooded man — something along the lines of Why the hell did you just chuck sparkles in my face? Instead you just panicked at first, certain that he’d tossed some sort of poison at you, and then upon realizing it was glitter you stood there, agape; partially alarmed by the alacrity with which he had approached you and struck dumb by the fact that it was glitter, of all things.

Well, Matt will think it’s hilarious, at least. You’d begun to keep a shared Google doc with him titled WEIRD NY THINGS, and throughout the day both of you would add to the list so that it was now a few pages long. Matt, unfortunately, had the privilege of experiencing the bulk of strange encounters, as he was the one out from dusk until two in the morning. Most of your contributions were amusing or bizarre interactions that you witnessed on the subway.

Brushing the glitter off of you, you went to the desk to check out the books.

“Just these,” you said, smiling at the woman behind the desk and handing her your library card. She scanned it, frowned, and then scanned again.

“It’s declining,” she said, handing it back to you.

“Declining?” You smiled nervously. “Well, I can confidently say that I didn’t exceed my credit limit.” It was a bad joke, and the librarian didn’t return the smile. She typed in the number on the back of your card.

“It looks like your account has been requesting books online from Fort Myers, Florida. Have you been there recently?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. I’m putting a hold on your card and you’ll have to order a new one. Someone’s hacked yours.”

“People hack library cards? Why, to steal $20 worth of books?”

“It happens,” was all she said, and you left the library empty-handed. That was only the first of several other unfortunate circumstances that befell you on your way home. You went to the grocery store next, to buy fixings for supper, and opened your phone to text Matt in case he needed you to pick up anything, only to find it dead. Two minutes later you stepped aside in the aisle, to allow another shopper more space, and bumped into the jellies behind you, two of which fell to the floor with horribly loud crashes and shattered in a gooey mess of pectin, strawberry, and raspberry. It didn’t help that the worker you alerted about the mess got pissed, grumbling that he’d just arrived at work and didn’t have time “for shitty imbeciles like you.” And then one of your paper bags split while you were on the subway, sending kiwis, potatoes, and frozen peas tumbling down the floor.

When you finally arrived back at the apartment — manhandling the peas, potatoes, and kiwis in your arms — you couldn’t find your key. And since your phone was dead, you had no way to call Matt. It was Saturday, and he was likely at Fogwell’s, getting in a morning workout by punching the living daylights out of a bag.

At least you didn’t have to sit outside of the apartment for very long. Matt ascended the stairs in his sweats and tee shirt, white cane still held loosely in his right hand, about half an hour later.

“Thank goodness you’re here, I thought I’d be stuck out here for hours and I really want lunch,” you said, relieved.

“Why do you smell like jelly?” he asked, eyebrows drawing in.

You sighed. “I have lots of things to tell you, if you don’t mind me venting to you for the next hour.”

“And you know you’ve got bird poop in your hair?”

“Are you serious? Shit!”

“Why are you holding all of the groceries out here?”

“Like I said — I have to vent to you later, and it involves sparkles,” you grumbled, accepting Matt’s hand so that he could pull you to your feet. “Bird poop is my first priority, though.”

It wasn’t until after your shower (a shower in which you used thrice the amount of shampoo as normal, and rinsed as quickly as possible because there was, for whatever reason, no hot water) that everything made sense. You came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around you, and turned on the television to the news as you slipped on a sweater and pants.

“—gotten word from the Sorcerer Supreme that anyone in the vicinity of Hell’s Kitchen should be wary of this man,” the news reporter was saying. “While his identity has not been confirmed, the glitter-like substance — which has been used on at least three individuals so far — has been verified as—”

Matt chose to call to you at that moment. “Mashed or baked potatoes?”

“Wait, wait! Sorry, Matt, hang on—” You turned up the volume on the television.

“—causing what has been given the moniker ‘Friday the Thirteenth Syndrome’, after the extreme bad luck that comes to its victims for the next twenty-four hours. The Sorcerer Supreme has assured the public that any victims of this man will endure no lasting effects, though they should take care to not engage in any risky behavior until the effects of the substance have worn off. Coming up next on Channel 14 News, we have breaking news coming from Manhattan, where Spider-Man and Deadpool have been videotaped attacking a man dressed as a gorilla at a local nightclub—”

You shut off the television triumphantly. “Friday the Thirteenth Syndrome!”

Matt paused from where he was peeling potatoes. “Come again?”

“Did you not hear the segment I was just blasting through the living room?” you asked, wandering into the kitchen and joining Matt at the cutting board to help peel using the spare knife.

“I was a bit preoccupied tuning out the couple having sex two floors above us.”

“Okay. Gross. Well, long story short, a guy threw something at me today and now I’ve been cursed to be unlucky for the next twenty-four hours. I knew something was off, because no one just happens to be unlucky enough to shatter the jelly and get yelled at and then locked out all in one day, but—” You stopped short as your potato you were sawing at split open to reveal a rotted center.

Matt’s nose twitched almost instantly. “Burn that, please.”

“Evidence!” you said emphatically, picking up the potato and waving it at him. “This is it, Matt! Evidence that I’m unlucky! Of all the potatoes, I just happened to get the rotten one? This is undeniable evidence.”

“Hasty generalization,” Matt corrected.

“We’re not in court, Matt.”

“Sorry. It’s a habit.” Matt rubbed the back of his head. “I guess I believe you, then? Not that I think you’d lie, just that it’s a bit... far-fetched.”

“It’s magic,” you enthused. “We’re experiencing magic, Matt, for a full twenty-four hours. So soak it up and enjoy it, because it’s not often that—”

“Y/N, your sleeve is getting dangerously close to the stove.”

“Right.” You shifted away before your sweater sleeve could make contact with the flames by the stove.

Your enthusiasm didn’t last very long. The entire afternoon was a bombardment of the worst possible luck you could have imagined; it even got to a point that you were scared Matt was going to get annoyed with you, and the idea of just your presence ruining his Saturday began to stress you out more than the prospect of whatever ill-fated misfortune was about to strike next. Still, you played two games of Monopoly with Matt on the braille board you’d bought for him last Christmas, and both games you lost miserably after landing on Matt’s properties with every single roll of the dice.

“This was a horrific idea,” you said, pushing the last of your money at Matt. “We’re not doing this until the stupid glitter stuff wears off.”

“So you’re not in the mood to play some chess?”

“I hate everything about this,” you complained. “Luck is dumb. Maybe I’ll just test my luck for fun and go pick a fight at a bar or something.”

“That’s not happening,” Matt objected, and it looked as though he would have said more, but his phone interrupted him with its mechanical iteration of Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. He picked it up while you began to scrape the mess of paper money back into the Monopoly box.

“Hey, Foggy. No. I don’t think so.” Matt stood up, pacing into the living room. “He wants it today? Are you serious? I thought they approved our request to push out the trial. I don’t know if I can — well, I can, but...” He hesitated. “Y/N might be coming with me, if that’s alright.”

That was why, on a day so cold that you could see your breath, you were zipping up your winter coat and following Matt down the stairs out of his apartment.

“It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two,” he told you apologetically. “There’s just this client who’s been costing us a lot of time and money, and he needs the paperwork by this afternoon in order to submit—”

“It’s okay, Matt. Really. I mean, you’re a lawyer; weekend hours are kind of a rite of passage, right?” You shivered. “What I’m less than ecstatic about is the fact that you’re forcing me to come along with you. I’d be perfectly content to sit on the couch and watch a movie.”

“With your luck, the ceiling would come down on your head. Or a burglar would break in and hold you at gunpoint.”

“So I’m safer on the street where we could get hit by a car?”

“You’re safer with me near,” he corrected. As though to prove his point, he suddenly steered you sharply to the left, so roughly that you almost fell over. A massive clang resounded right where you had been standing, and you looked down, alarmed, to see the broken half of a stop sign fallen beside you.

“Oh my God!” a woman shouted from behind you. “That coulda killed you! You should sue for that!”

You looked dumbly at the sign. “Well, I do know a lawyer.”

Matt gave you what was almost a reproachful look. “This is why—”

“Why I have to stay by your side. I know. Ugh. This feels like having a driver’s permit again, when I couldn’t legally drive without an adult watching my every move.”

But once you were safely in the office of Nelson and Murdock, the next hour passed with a suspicious lack of unfortunate events. You sat rigidly in Matt’s chair, confined to the “permissible” activities of drawing on the notepad or reading a book on criminal justice, and bearing Foggy’s good-humored reaction to your situation.

“If there’s a bad luck sparkle dust, then there’s got to be a good luck sparkle dust, right?” he said, popping back into Matt’s office. “Because I’m thinking we send Y/N off to find this hooded man again and ask him for the good luck version. Then all we need to do is have her buy a lottery ticket and no longer shall we dine on ham and cheese sandwiches at lunch.”

“If I won the lottery, paying for gourmet lunches wouldn’t be my first priority,” you said. “I’d buy a big house on the coast and dedicate the largest room to my own personal library.”

“With a guest house,” Foggy said. “So I can visit.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “And then I’d make sure that we have an in-house doctor who can tend to all of Matt’s injuries every single night. Ooh — and I’d also want one of those fish tanks that’s built into a wall. Did you ever watch that show Tank Masters or whatever it is on Animal Planet?” You snapped your fingers. “Tanked. I think that’s what it was called.”

Matt cleared his throat. “You guys know that I absolutely love your chatter to pieces, but—”

“Sorry. I’ll shut up,” you said. “How much paperwork do you have left?”

“Actually, it’s just about done. Now we just need to bring it to Mr. Devon.” Matt tilted his head at you. “Nothing unlucky has happened in the past hour or so.”

“Maybe it wore off earlier than expected,” you suggested. “He didn’t throw that much dust at me.”

“Catch.” Foggy tossed a pen at you and you caught it, bewildered. He shrugged. “If you were still unlucky, wouldn’t the pen have hit you in the head, or exploded?”

“Or she could just come,” Matt said. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Mr. Devon likes his privacy,” Foggy reminded him. “Remember he threatened to request a new lawyer when we had Karen come with us to take notes?”

Matt exhaled. “Okay. Y/N, you have to swear that you’re going to sit here the entire time and not do anything that has any chance of going wrong.”

You raised your hands defensively. “I’m not the one with a death wish, Mr. I-Punch-Bad-Guys-At-Night.”

“You’re deflecting.”

You sighed. “I promise. Where’s this Mr. Devon’s place?”

“On the other side of Hell’s Kitchen,” Matt said. “Which means I probably won’t hear you if something goes wrong.”

“I’ll just scream really, really loudly if someone comes in to try to kill me so that you can pick it up,” you assured him. But the look on his face was so far from amused that you winced. “Sorry. Nothing’s going to go wrong, Matt. Look, I’ve been sitting here for a long time now, perfectly fine.”

Five minutes later, he and Foggy left, and you remained in the office of Nelson and Murdock, twiddling your thumbs and making a M.A.S.H fortune for yourself on the notepad. You showed Matt how to play it a month ago, and had written out an array of five-year predictions for him. His results gave him a career in the publishing industry, a penthouse suite in Manhattan, zero children, and a happy marriage with Elektra (the last of these predictions pissed you off and you didn’t bother making any M.A.S.H fortunes for yourself).

Bored, you began crossing out the options, counting off by fours. It narrowed until you were married to Thanos, working for the Hand, living in the sewer, and mother to fifty-six children.

Maybe the unluckiness hasn’t worn off.

Exasperated, you flipped open the criminal justice book, preparing yourself to read what was surely going to be mind-numbing jargon, when a siren suddenly began to wail. At first, you assumed it was the fire detector, because that went off every single time that Karen made the coffee, according to Matt. But the fire alarm above you was silent and dark. You craned your neck to see where the flashing red light was coming from, and your stomach dropped when you recognized what was emitting the high-pitched wail: the carbon monoxide detector.

“Oh, come on,” you complained, to absolutely no one in particular. Matt had made you swear to stay put, but something told you that he’d also be pissed if he came back and you were sprawled out dead on his office floor from carbon monoxide poisoning. Resigning yourself to having to leave, you got up and gathered your phone and coat.

It took only a minute to call 911 once you were on the street to let them know what was happening. The street was busy with people, so you stepped into the entrance of a hotel across the street where you were less likely to get crushed by a falling piano or get struck by lightning.

That was a mistake, though.

You rounded the corner of the foyer, hoping to find a sitting area that you could make yourself comfortable in, and ran straight into a large suited man who was standing there. You would have nearly fallen if you hadn’t steadied yourself in time, taking a few steps backward.

“I’m so sorry—” you began, and then your heart stopped.

This wasn’t even badluck. This was hellish luck, and for a moment you felt certain that you had to be having a nightmare, because no one, not even someone who was cursed, could be this unlucky.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Fisk said, voice gravelly and baritone.

You started to speak but your throat had gone so dry that nothing came out. You cleared you throat, then started again. “My bad. I, uh, wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Fisk looked at you, and for a moment you felt sure that he could see traces of Daredevil on your face, where Matt touched your cheekbone and kissed the nape of your neck, as though there were glowing residuals there — because it was eerie how penetrating Fisk’s gaze was. But then he swung his eyes back to the man with whom he was talking and you were forgotten.

Taking a breath to steady your heartbeat, you returned to the street, where there were already responders to the carbon monoxide. It turned out to be a malfunction of the alarm, and there was no trace of any carbon monoxide in the building, so you were allowed to return.

Of course, nothing seemed to be simple at the moment, so you didn’t exactly return to the office as smoothly as you’d hoped. Someone hurrying down the street with a carton of cream-filled doughnuts, of all things, plowed right into you as ungracefully as you had run into Fisk, and only two minutes after that mishap, once you were sitting back at Matt’s desk and twirling the pen Foggy had thrown at you earlier, it exploded, right onto your hands and face. The worst part was that now you didn’t even dare go wash up, for fear of some brain-eating bacteria somehow getting from the sink water and into your body, or some other equally horrific misfortune.

Matt and Foggy came back a half an hour later. You assumed that Matt could smell the powdered sugar, cream, and ink on you from far away, judging by his expression of unsurprised amusement, but the look on Foggy’s face was far too delighted.

“A guy with cream doughnuts ran into me,” you said shortly before they could ask. “And then, yes, that pen you thought was such a good test earlier, Foggy, finally betrayed me, and now I desperately want a shower. Again.”

Matt’s lip twitched, and then he moved to his desk, picking up a notepad and pencil.

“What are you doing?” you asked suspiciously.

“Making a note to add this to the WEIRD NY THINGS document,” he said, smirking slightly as he tore the note off and stuck it into his pocket.

“Ha, ha. This must just be a riot for your senses, having a girlfriend who reeks of sugar and ink—”

But Matt’s face darkened and he cut you off. “Why do I smell him?”

Him could only mean who you thought it meant. “Matt, don’t worry, I’m okay.”

Matt’s hand flitted onto your shoulder as though to assess your well-being. “Where’s Fisk? You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he demanded. “What happened?”

"Everything’s okay. Really. I had a false alarm for carbon monoxide so I went down into the street and then into the hotel but Fisk was there, so I left—”

“Fisk? As in Wilson Fisk? Like, Willie Fisk, the guy we’re always talking about? That Fisk?” Foggy said, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah. I maybe sort of... ran into him. Literally,” you admitted. “But everything’s okay, really! So I was kind of lucky in a sense, right?”

“No, you weren’t,” Matt said, his expression sour. “You could have been killed. What if you’d run into him while he was doing something illegal? He would have murdered you without blinking."

“But he didn’t. Although if you can smell Fisk underneath all this doughnut dust on me, I really want to shower even more now.” You stood up and stretched. “I’ll make us some coffee to-go. We’re free to leave, right? Is your thing with Mr. Devon over?”

“Yes, it’s over, and no, you’re not making coffee,” Foggy answered. “Because Matt will kill you if you die making coffee.” He trooped over to the kitchen, whistling as he started the Keurig.

“I feel like Alexander,” you said absently. “Did you ever read that book? Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Except now it’s Y/N and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”

Matt didn’t answer. His head was cocked ever so slightly at you.

“What is it?” you asked warily. “Am I about to have a heart attack or something? Is there an earthquake coming? Please tell me there’s no meteorite coming to use my head as a landing pad.”

“Stay still,” he said, voice low.

“What is it?”

“Stay still.” He edged around you, and swiftly swiped something off your back. You gasped as a spider fell to the floor and scurried towards the wall, but Matt followed it and quickly squashed it with his heel. You squinted at its twitching remains.

“Please tell me that’s not a brown recluse,” you said, feeling suddenly lightheaded. “Is it? Is that a brown recluse?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t memorized the various smells different spiders emit when squashed,” Matt said, smiling slightly. “It does smell venomous, though, so whatever it was, it wasn’t anything you’d want to get bitten by.”

“Back,” Foggy announced, handing you both cups of coffee. “I was trying to brainstorm risk-free activities and came up with something brilliant.”

“Meditating? Napping? Yoga?” you offered.

“Nope. It’s movie night,” Foggy said. “Tonight, us three — plus Karen if she’s not busy — where you, Y/N, will be surrounded by guards, a.k.a. us, who will ensure that nothing unlucky can happen to you.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said, bringing your coffee to your lips.

“Wait!” Matt started, but it was too late; the coffee immediately burned the tip of your tongue and you pulled it away, swearing.

“Damn it. That was my fault,” you said, nonetheless still glaring at the cup. “I can’t wait for this stupid spell to wear off.”

“Then let’s kill time,” Foggy said. “Not just movie night. A movie marathon night. Popcorn, hot cocoa, the works. My place.”

“Alright. And you’re forbidden to go anywhere alone, Y/N,” Matt said.

“Come on, I can at least go to the bathroom alone—”

“Not a chance,” Matt said, and he looked far too pleased with himself. “I’ll just come with you.”

And despite being one of the most unlucky people in the world, right then you couldn’t help but feel like one of the luckiest, as Matt’s hand brushed against your back and he kissed the side of your head.

A/N: I don’t know if anyone noticed while reading this but the premise was heavily inspired by Bad Day at Black Rock from Supernatural — one of my favorite episodes :)

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #marvel #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader

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untaemedqueen · 1 year

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor, Unexpected Pregnancy, Almost Instalove, Instalust

Warnings For This Chapter: Morbidity, Dark Humor

Chapter 2.

The start of your morning always begins with a shot of espresso on your back patio and a look through of the past week's sales.

This morning, unfortunately for you, you can't possibly start off your day as usual. Not when Namjoon is standing on your doorstep at the crack of fucking dawn.

Even with his hands held up high with a brown paper bag full of freshly baked blueberry muffins from Angostinos and the other carefully carrying smoothies, he still has a gigantic smile plastered onto his face.

"Good morning!" Namjoon beams, brushing right past you into your sterile mansion.

"What's so good about it?" you grumble, placing your hand over your eyes like a vampire witnessing the sun for the first time in their life.

You slowly shut the door, notes of Joon's high pitched whistling floating through one ear and out the other with constant consistency.

It is in fact very odd that the tall, handsome man is in your home at the moment. Namjoon has always respected your private life and he never intrudes, never.

So on a Friday morning, with breakfast in hand is quite frankly bizarre.

"Why are you here?" you inquire, stepping into the open kitchen and leaning against the grand black marble pillar while your co-worker arranges breakfast on a plate.

"I can't bring you breakfast?" he chirps, sliding his sunglasses up and over his head until his hair is perfectly placed beneath them.

He's probably here to be nosy.

"No. It's illegal. Why are you here?" you ask again.

He stops arranging the muffins to look up at you slowly. He can hear the morning scratchiness of your throat with each word and he can certainly feel your demonic gaze piercing through his three piece suit.

Even now as you lean against the pillar, your black silk robe that trails along the cold, stone flooring is billowing around you like you're a goddess of deadly destruction.

Swallowing thickly, Namjoon averts his gaze when his eyes begin to trail over the one exposed leg that peeks out from beneath your robe.

"I came over to see how the escort thing went."

Bingo.

Call a horse a horse and it'll gallop all the way to the finish line for you.

"It went fine," you reply, walking over to one of the hard, stylistic black barstools and tentatively sitting.

There's no person on Earth that could sit down on this thing for more than ten seconds without getting a bruised coccyx and maybe a genital ache.

"So you picked a guy then?"

God's favorite pet project is acting just a bit too needy for you so early in the morning. Whenever he acts like this at work you can always just have a glass of wine and breathe, but without your espresso -- it's a buzzkill.

"Yes. His name is Jeongguk."

Joon can tell you're being curt and snippy now but when are you not?

So like always, he pushes past it.

"Got a picture? I'm curious to see what your type is. Does he look like me? Is he my long lost twin?"

You can only roll your eyes as you demurely point at the binder you took home at the far end of the bar.

Joon suddenly perks up at the thought of seeing multiple candidates and he's off in a split second.

"Make me an espresso while you be nosy."

"It's not my house," he murmurs, looking around.

"Figure it out, you woke me up," you breathe, looking down at your perfect nails.

"He looks like a fuckboy," Joon muses, sipping his smoothie.

Looking up from your espresso, you simply shrug. "He was very polite when I met him."

Fucking hot too.

"So he's willing to go with you to this wedding? You told him everything about it?" he inquires, brushing some of the muffin crumbs off the table into his hand and sprinkling them back onto his plate.

"He's coming over tonight to talk about some sort of game plan so I'd say so," you reply.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow and his features give away almost immediately how much he hates that idea. "What? That's dangerous! You don't even know this dude and he's coming over to your house!?"

"You worry too much," you offer, patting him on the shoulder.

In all reality, you hadn't really thought about that. You were too entranced by how fucking hot Jeongguk was in that small office during the interview.

You acted like a child, really. It was like you've never seen an attractive human before and honestly… it really showed.

"Do you want me to come over after work and make sure he won't do anything?" Joon offers.

"No," you reply quickly, shaking your head.

He isn't your father. He doesn't need to just show up and you certainly won't embarrass Jeon Jeongguk like that.

"This is professional. And it will remain as such," you promise, sipping your espresso.

Unfortunately.

With a groan, Guk sets down the bar of weights above him.

"Nice, you're getting fucking strong, dude. You can lift more than you weigh." Jimin, his best friend chirps, tossing him a towel.

The escort catches it easily, patting his face gently as he sits up on the bench. "Yeah, I've been getting into working out more and more lately."

"Ever since Chloe?" Taehyung inquires, shaking his protein drink.

Just the sound of her name makes the youngest nauseous. "Chill out."

Jimin holds his hands up innocently before grabbing his gym bag with a sigh. "Got any jobs lately? Women don't want random dick anymore, man. They all want relationships and love and… commitment."

Tae snorts softly as he swallows the thick protein shake.

"I have a client I'm meeting in a few hours. I'm going to a wedding with her." Jeongguk announces, fixing his tank top in the mirror and flexing his biceps.

If his best friends were dogs, their ears would be perking up and their heads would be tilting at his admission.

"Oh really?!" Jimin drolls, draping himself over the bench press and looking at the youngest through the mirror.

"Yeah. She seems really nice," Guk shrugs, grabbing his dress shirt from the hook beside him.

"Is she hot?" Tae inquires with a sly smile, resting his elbow atop Jeongguk's shoulder.

The escort doesn't know how to reply. Most of the time when he hangs out with his best friends he himself is never under their gaze and questions are never barreled at him, he somehow always avoids it by switching the subject back to them.

But now, he has to answer.

When he first saw you in the meeting room guzzling your champagne with awkward, quick moving eyes, he found himself fond of how unsure you were. You were dressed head to toe in thousands of dollars worth of clothes and yet, you carried yourself like someone making little money.

He actually liked that.

It isn't everyday that a client seems down to Earth. It's been a long time since he hasn't felt on edge at a first meeting.

Were you hot though?

You certainly were attractive. You carried yourself well. You made him want to help get your payback immediately.

"Yeah, she was pretty cute," he admits nonchalantly.

"Just cute?"

Oh Christ.

Enough.

"I gu-"

"Leave him alone!" Jimin chortles, patting Guk on the back, "You know how he gets."

Thank God.

The youngest never talks about clients. Not anymore and he'd like to keep it that way.

While you were basically just an enigma wrapped in Balenciaga, Guk should determine on his own if he'd like to figure you out -- without the help of Hell's own personal gatekeepers.

His eyes skim over the practically empty gym until he finds the large clock on the wall.

"I actually have to start heading out. I have to meet up with Y/N in a bit."

The others exchange a look when he speaks your name softly and it's almost too hard to keep their smiles contained.

If they can count on one thing, it'll be that if Jeongguk really does find an interest in you they'll be sure to hear about it the next time they see him.

Entering your home after a long day of work, you find it very hard to do almost anything.

You don't cook for yourself, you don't clean, you don't get to sit down and relax and watch television.

You simply just… exist.

Today is the same.

Although, in just a little while, the handsome man you're paying to come to an event with you will be doing the exact same thing.

For the first time in a long time you feel bad.

He'll have to sit on embarrassingly hard furniture and stare at medically clean marble walls.

There's nothing to keep someone entertained in this house -- not even you.

You think about the backyard, how perfectly trimmed and neat it is with the black flower bushes and the white roses and maybe that's the place you'll take him. Maybe he'll find that you have some substance while you're back there.

Setting down your purse on the counter, you ponder what to do to make Jeongguk feel welcome.

It's not his fault you're dead inside, it's no one's fault really no one but the two little slimy fucks that are getting married.

It seems you mull it over for almost too long because the doorbell rings while you're deep in thought. The rich, meaty sound echoes throughout the empty, vastness of your mansion and it suddenly sends you into a panic.

"Oh fuck!" you gasp, turning around in circles like a madman as you smooth out your dress.

Your hands fly to your hair, trying to smooth it out without even having a reflective surface to truly make sure you look presentable.

When you waltz by the screen that shows you who's at the door, you're almost floored immediately.

This is only the second time you're seeing him now but he's just as handsome as the first time. He's taking in the mansion before him, looking around at everything like it's a grandiose amusement park and he isn't even inside yet.

There's something cute about it if you're being honest, the way he's staring at the fourteen foot tall double doors with his jaw practically on the ground makes you smirk even the slightest bit.

You stop your fiddling, leaving your long, sweeping black gown alone and your hands don't even reach for a strand of your hair.

It's almost like he's a siren and you're completely still and calm with him in your sights.

Taking a deep breath, you round the corner and open up the double doors with very little flourish.

"Hi," you chirp softly.

Finally, Guk picks his jaw up off the floor and he gives you a smile that's practically Earth shattering.

"Hey," he breathes, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

Within seconds you're turning back into that awkward, ridiculous woman you were during your first meeting a few days ago.

You take him in for a second, appreciating the thick steel chain hanging around his neck and the perfectly ironed dress shirt that he's wearing.

He looks perfect if you're being honest. So perfect that your only reaction is to turn right on your heels and march back into your sterile mansion for some sort of comfort.

Guk follows behind you, closing the doors and ogling at every little thing he sees.

"Selling wine pays well," Jeongguk gasps, whistling at the art pieces he sees.

There's the faint sound of opera bleeding through the mausoleum walls that buffers out the cold silence.

"I… um… I didn't pick up anything for dinner, if-if you're hungry," you announce, grabbing the champagne bottle and two stemless glasses.

"Oh! We can order whatever you like. That'll actually be helpful for me, I'll get to see your favorite type of food and make a note of it for when we go to the wedding," the escort replies.

This is work.

The fucking wedding.

You're really getting flustered up over someone you're paying to go with you someplace?!

Get a grip.

"Good idea," you breathe, chuckling awkwardly as you make your way to the vast backyard.

"Holy shit, this is beautiful." Jeongguk gawks, looking over the perfectly cut hedges and blooming flowers.

If he had to guess, he'd say you were a neat freak. There's not a speck of dust or a single crumb throughout your entire mansion and it makes him wonder.

Most clients he meets to find out more about them, it's merely just a formality.

But he's genuinely curious about you.

He's interested in how someone like you thinks and how you go about life.

"Please sit," you offer, sitting down on the black wicker chair that overlooks the stone pond just inches away.

Clearing his throat, your guest does the same.

He makes an effort to sit properly, although it does look like he's hurting himself in the process. His back is bent strangely and his hands are gripping at his bare knees through his ripped jeans uncomfortably.

He must not want to touch anything for fear of making a mistake.

You feel as if you should try and make him more comfortable, which is big for you when you seemingly adore how the interns at work literally run in the opposite direction when they hear your Louboutin heels clacking towards them.

"Treat this like your own place, it's okay," you promise, popping open the champagne.

Jeongguk gives you a polite smile. "Oh I don't think you'd want that. There'd be protein bar wrappers everywhere."

When you give the faintest hint of a smirk it seems to settle him a bit more.

Your smile is pretty, Guk thinks, it's a shame you don't smile very often.

Sliding him the glass of wine, you look out towards the backyard that you very rarely come to look at.

"Salmon sounds good for dinner?" you inquire, bringing the glass to your lips.

The escort can only nod. "I like salmon. Sounds doable to me."

This really isn't as awkward as you thought it would be. It doesn't feel painful to sit beside him.

That's nice.

Taking a sip of the wine, Guk wants to simply fall to his knees at the taste. It honestly tastes expensive, like you but there's notes in it that make him feel comfortable drinking it.

He's not used to this upper class sort of stuff. He's well off, sure, but he's not rolling in money.

"What kind of questions did you have in mind?"

He lifts his head a fraction only to see your head tilting toward him. With the setting sun in the background, you look like a grand painting like one of the ones he used to study in college.

It's a stunning sight.

Why the fuck would anyone hurt you?

His throat and voice box are nowhere to be found in all honesty, they've gotten lost somewhere within him and he's just not quick enough to find them before you look over at him inquisitively.

"Jeongguk?"

"Yes! Questions!" he coughs loudly, setting down his glass of champagne.

You're too busy berating your own self to catch his small moment of being flustered.

"My questions are simple in a sense. What's your favorite color, favorite type of music, favorite pastime? Then there are harder questions like your favorite memory, who your friends are. Just to get a sense of who you are so when we get to the wedding I'll know all the right things to say."

You nod thoughtfully, turning back to the stone pond as you sip delicately from your glass.

"My favorite color is lavender," you whisper.

There's a softness to your voice, a type of vulnerability that Jeongguk swallows thickly at. He finds himself thinking about your mansion, lavender is nowhere to be seen. Colors that aren't black and white simply don't exist in this expensive realm and while he thought that might be a stylistic choice, the way you've just spoken tells him about a million and one things all at once.

You're so very broken and these people that are getting married are the cause. He assumes that you were vastly different to the person you are now and he wonders for a moment what that person was like.

"Favorite type of music… I'm not sure I only listen to opera now," you answer, staring down at the water as it ripples at the slightest breeze.

"Why opera?" Guk inquire innocently.

"Drowns out the pain…"

God, you're fucking morbid.

You're absolutely horrified that you're coming off as this kind of psychopath. But then again, didn't you want this? Didn't you want people to fear you? Didn't you want to push people away and keep yourself locked in a castle of hard, sterile and nauseating?

"I'm sure it must be really difficult to open up and I'm sorry if it's pushing you. I just want to make these people eat their own shit and the only way I can do that is finding out more about you," Jeongguk offers, reaching over the table and laying his large hand over yours.

The chill from his many rings makes a shiver shoot down your spine and you find yourself trying to become smaller in front of him at the feeling.

He does want these people to pay. He wants them to rue the day they ever thought it would be alright to hurt you. It doesn't happen often when he finds himself aching for his client, usually because they only need him for a high school reunion or a date to their parents' holiday and they promised they have a boyfriend to get them off their backs. But he does feel your pain, he does understand even with the most minute information.

"What about your favorite memory?" Guk asks, trying to lighten the mood.

The question makes you think hard. You try to recall your happiest moments and although they're locked behind some doors, you think you might have a skeleton key somewhere nearby.

"I'm thinking," you promise.

The escort only nods carefully, still keeping his hand on top of yours as he looks around the perfectly kept garden.

He's coming to realize that all this money you have and the life you live is simply a show. If someone was to speak to you for more than two minutes they would realize what a complete and utter set up this is. You're living your life like an actress in a play, just letting the setting pieces set up behind you while you stand alone on stage.

Chloe was the opposite. She was boisterous and cantankerous and everything he didn't want to know but she drew him in so fast that it wasn't easy to leave when she sunk her expensive nails into him.

He wasn't moved by her, he wasn't hoping to help her -- he was merely with her. He was moving her set pieces for her so she could stay in the spotlight.

And suddenly Jeongguk realizes that he's drawing parallels between you and his ex which isn't right.

"My favorite moment is when my dad took me to the zoo for the first time. Zoo tickets were really expensive for my family back then. We barely did any activities besides going to the park because it was, y'know, free. But my dad knew how much I loved animals and how much I wanted to see them in person," you begin with a deep breath.

The escort can see how deep in your memories you are, the way your irises flit back and forth as if you're reliving right in this exact moment and the corners of your lips flickering upwards like a smile will almost crack your face like perfect china. But there's something endearing about it.

So perfectly endearing.

"I went the whole day running around and seeing all the animals, we stayed until they closed the gates and my dad even got me a stuffed animal to commemorate it even though he had to take money out of the rent for it. It's one of the best memories I have. I still have the little elephant upstairs in my bedroom," you finish, turning to Guk with a smile.

Your smile is true and wide, showing your perfectly white teeth beneath your dark berry lipstick and Jeongguk can feel his heart stutter for even a fraction of a second.

There is no way in hell he's not getting invested.

And there's no way in hell that he's leaving that wedding without making both of your ex's hate that they ever hurt you.

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#at your service #ays #chapter 2 #chap 2 #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts fic #jungkook fic

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