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hellfireghoul · 1 year

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Approval

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

Summary: You've been partnered up with Leon, much to both your dismay, on the mission to rescue the President's daughter from a deadly cult located in Spain. Leon's constant jabs to undermine you really start getting under your skin and you finally confront him about it.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Pure smut with little plot. Slight degrading??

Words: 4.1k

Notes: Okay so I haven't written smut in a long time so bare with me, this is probably fucking awful but I cannot stop thinking about this pixelated man, the brain rot is too real. Okay enjoy

You wondered if he’d ever look your way again. You wanted nothing more than for him to tell you you’d done a good job. Or to maybe compliment your skills. Just once.

It incensed you that you felt this way, that you wanted the approval of someone so cocky. You didn’t have to prove yourself to anyone. You’d gotten where you were from years of gruelling hard work and training, and it infuriated you that you could be left feeling this way over a man you barely knew. If you were hearing this story from a friend, you’d laugh at them. At the sheer neediness and desperate desire for approval. From a man no doubt. It was pitiful.

Nevertheless, you found yourself pining for that approval. Making sure you were on your A game even more than usual. You’d been assigned the task of rescuing the President’s daughter, yourself and Leon Kennedy being the only two people entrusted enough to deliver on such a task. It seemed Leon had a hard time believing why you were chosen to accompany him.

The sly comments had begun from day one, as soon as you were deployed. You had met previously of course, but only briefly around the office and he’d never even really acknowledged you. Naturally, you were thrilled when you’d been paired with him. The arrogant agent that never spoke a word to you, great.

You took it upon yourself anyway to introduce yourself properly to Leon as you boarded the helicopter, he’d simply nodded at you but didn’t say anything. You’d pressed for further conversation on the flight, and he’d simply commented that he ‘wasn’t aware you were up to a level to be on this type of mission’.

The fucking cheek.

For the first day, it had been a constant battle of you poking at him to get his attention. Not even because you wanted it, you were just baffled at how someone you were spending your every waking second with could be so indifferent. So uninterested. You were lying if you said your ego wasn’t a little bruised. The few comments he did make however, were to undermine you.

“Your gun needs a reload.” He’d murmur, as you’d just finished taking down two ganados single-handedly.

“You not gonna pick that up?” He’d commented, gesturing to your combat knife strewn on the ground in the midst of you both fighting. You’d merely scoffed at him, shaking your head and shoving it back into its pouch with more force than necessary.

Now, the two of you were holed up in a decently sized abandoned house. It was day two, and Leon had barely spoken more than a few words to you, much to your utmost annoyance. You were exhausted, having been on constant alert all day, taking out some of your frustrations perhaps on the ganados. You’d gathered some intel on where Ashley Graham was being kept, but right now, the weather was absolutely horrific and you had no way to access her. You’d have to wait it out. You watched from the floor as Leon barricaded the front door of the house with a battered bookcase, your eyes glancing over his toned arms, causing you to swallow thickly and avert your gaze.

“Little help would be nice.” Leon uttered, a final shove ensuring the bookcase fully covered the door.

“I’m surprised you would entrust me with such responsibility. I mean, I’m clearly not capable enough.” You said, venom laced in your tone as you stood up from your seat on the floor. Leon, to your dismay, didn’t react. This only served to infuriate you more. You strode over to the window, shouldering another worn piece of furniture in front of it, he came over to help, but you’d already managed by the time he’d got to you.

“I got it.” You muttered, sulking off to cover the other window. “Unless you know, I didn’t do it right. Maybe you want to check it.”

Leon audibly groaned at your sarcastic words, and you seized his tiny reaction and ran with it.

“No seriously, what is your problem?” You span round.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’ve been undermining me from the minute you set eyes on me. Some niceties do go a long way you know.”

“I’m not here to make friends, sweetheart.”

You had to stop your jaw from falling slack at his choice of words. You were enraged at his audacity.

“Sweetheart? You barely speak to me and now you have the audacity to start calling me sweetheart?” You scoffed in disbelief at the arrogant man standing before you. His stern features didn’t so much as falter at your words, instead, he clenched his jaw and took two paces towards you.

“We have a job to do, if you don’t like it, you’re more than welcome to be dismissed.” He spoke in a dangerously low tone, his face now inches from yours. The tension in the air was almost palpable, and it shocked you how your breath hitched in your throat and you felt your body flush from head to toe. You’d always found Leon attractive, sure, but his arrogance seemed to turn you off to any idea of him in that way. Now however, your mouth went noticeably dry and your head spun as he was inches from touching you. Your entire body felt as if it was on fire, waiting for something to happen. Expecting him to make a move. Instead, he pulled away, leaving you almost whimpering.

“That’s what I thought.” Leon stated, his face neutral as you watched him back up a few paces in disbelief. He headed towards the moth-eaten sofa and the equally tattered chair, settling himself in the armchair with his pistol fully loaded in his right hand.

“Get some sleep, big day tomorrow.” Although his face didn’t display it, you knew he was feeling unbelievably smug.

He was playing a game, one you were now set on winning.

Ashley Graham was exactly how you’d envisioned the President’s daughter to be. Preppy, innocent-eyed and slightly entitled. You watched in irritation as Leon played the hero, catching Ashley perfectly from the church window and you fought not to roll your eyes into the back of your head, aware there were more pressing issues at hand as the sound of ganados snarling rumbled beneath you. You climbed out next, hovering on the window sill and gaging how to land.

To your surprise, Leon offered out his hand. You shot him a look, opting to jump out of your own accord, landing perfectly at his feet with a satisfied smirk you couldn’t hide. The three of you hurried around to the graveyard that preceded the church doors, you ahead, Leon behind and Ashley sandwiched in the middle to ensure maximum security. You drew your pistol as you fought through some of the enemies, dodging and shooting where needed. As you fled through, you came to an opening just before a wooden bridge. Ganados fled in from every direction, torches and pitchforks at the ready, screaming and ready for blood.

You paused in your tracks, desperately searching for the best way forward until Leon yelled, “This way!”

He’d rushed forward, over the wooden bridge and that’s when you saw a familiar face gesturing you inside the house ahead. You and Ashley followed Leon in hot pursuit, following him as he ushered the two of you inside and began bolting the large wooden gate in front of the house.

“You again?” You said, pondering the familiar face in front of you. The dark haired man before you, you and Leon had met the day previously, on the first day of your deployment. He had left the two of you entangled in a compromising position, much to both of your disgust.

“Listen, about the other day-” The dark haired man began, but Leon abruptly cut him off, his fist pummeling on his chest and pressing him against the far wall.

“Yeah, about that. Who are you? Talk. Now.” Leon growled.

The man introduced himself as Luis, and specifically locked his eyes on you.

“And what about you?” Luis smirked, seemingly not interested to learn anyone else’s name in the room. You were about to answer, until a loud bang made both you and Leon spring into action, eyeing the windows to locate the source of the sound.

“Shit.” You hushed under your breath, the locals having broken the previously bolted gate wide open and now advancing on the house.

“No time for introductions.” You said casually, as you hauled your shotgun off your back.

“Ashley, hide.” You instructed the blonde girl, and she nodded nervously.

“Here, help me.” Luis called to Leon, and the pair hauled a battered wardrobe over, revealing a hole in the stone wall where Ashley could hide away. She reluctantly crawled in, and the three of you readied yourselves for the incoming attack.

Snarling surrounded you as the ganados began breaking their way in through long ago smashed windows. They toppled in, one by one, some of them still sporting pitchforks and shovels. You got to work, making good use of your shotgun and knife, thinning the herd considerably but as fast as you did, more seemed to emerge.

“There’s too many!” You yelled.

“Stand your ground!” Luis called back, shooting an enemy directly in the eye from a decent distance, earning a ‘Phew nice shot!’ from yourself.

Luis shrugged and grinned devilishly, and you felt a familiar pair of icy blue eyes boring into you for a brief second. A flurry of gunshots, flash grenades and broken knife blades later, the house seemed safe. The hoard seemingly ran dry, the only noise to be heard outside was that of the wind and heavy rainfall pattering on the ground.

“Jesus Christ.” You huffed quietly, and bent double, leaning your palms on your thighs in an attempt to regain your breath.

“Are you okay, miss?” Luis was at your side in an instant, offering you his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” You sighed as you took Luis’s hand. You were suddenly aware that Leon was glaring at the two of you again.

“Actually, Luis. I never did get the chance to introduce myself properly. I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You said, softly as you looked up at him innocently through your eyelashes.

“No, the pleasure is all mine.” Luis said slowly, and with that he brought the hand he was still holding to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on the back of it. You blushed ever so slightly, and smiled, feeling Leon’s glare absolutely boring into your soul. There was a small pause, your eyes still lingering on Luis until Leon broke the silence.

“Ashley, you can come out now.” Leon almost growled, heaving the wardrobe himself with a grunt to free the girl.

“Hey man, I would’ve helped you with that.” Luis stepped forward in an attempt to help, still not releasing the hold on your hand, but the job had already been done. Ashley emerged looking somewhat disheveled from being holed up in the dark. Her eyes immediately darted to Luis holding your hand still, and a small smirk creeped on her face.

“Making friends are we?” She grinned, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” You smirked.

“Let’s get moving.” Leon murmured as he brushed past you and Luis for the door.

The four of you headed south, and that’s where Luis left you, to your great protest. You were only just starting to have fun. Leon’s eyes narrowed him suspiciously as he left, insisting that he didn’t trust him. He tapped his radio, waking up the comms system and getting through to your agency assistance.

“Condor one to roost, baby eagle is secured.” Leon spoke firmly but quickly down the comms system, as you and Ashley stood waiting behind him, attempting to shield yourselves from the torrential rain.

“Great job Condor one, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. The weather is too bad for us to deploy the chopper, it’s too risky. Are you able to hold out till morning?”

The voice traveled to yours and Ashley's ears, and Ashley shot you a worrying look. You didn’t alter your expression, not wanting to worry the girl, after all, it was your job to protect her.

“Copy that. Condor one out.” Leon pressed the button on his receiver hard and inhaled deeply.

“Back to the house?” You suggested, your voice slightly raised in an effort to be heard over the rain. Leon nodded, reverting back to his usual silent self.

The house, although abandoned and unkept, was a welcome sight for the three of you after the trek in the horrendous weather. It was a relief just to be sheltered from the rain. Ashley immediately slumped down on the sofa you had slept on just last night, and you made yourself busy by lighting a few candles across the room, to allow for a tiny bit of light.

“Hey, don’t light too many of those. We’ll draw attention to ourselves.” Leon instructed, causing you to roll your eyes as you blew out the match after lighting the last candle you’d intended to burn.

“Not stupid, remember?” You jabbed, and you heard Leon give a small sigh as you set yourself down next to Ashley.

“There’s a bed upstairs Ashley, the rooms all boarded up but there’s no access for anyone to get in from the outside anyway. You’ll be safe in there, plus you know where we are if you need us.” You said softly, and Ashley nodded, slowly getting to her feet.

“I can’t thank the two of you enough for what you’ve done.”

“Don’t mention it.” You reassured her.

“Just doing my job.” Leon added, and you don’t know why but even this irked you. The fact he didn’t say we, as if he and he alone single-handedly saved Ashley from that church. Leon offered to show Ashley upstairs, and you scoffed as he wrapped his arm around her, still irritated at his prior comment. It was evident that whatever you did wasn’t good enough. You could easily hold your own, you’d worked your way from the ground up in this job, the only other person the President himself entrusted with this mission. But yet he still treats you like you’re a dumb and inexperienced, an inconvenience nonetheless.

“What was that for?” Leon’s voice emerged from the darkness as he made his way back down the stairs, startling you out of your thoughts.

“What was what for?” You fired back, sitting up straighter on the sofa, your eyes never leaving him as he made his way near the front door to push the bookcase in front of it.

“You don’t think I heard it? C’mon Y/N. That pathetic scoff you gave out just now. So unprofessional.”

“Oh, I’m unprofessional? At least I’m not the one flirting with the objective.” You hissed back, careful to not let Ashley overhear you. As much as you were irritated, a small part of you secretly got a kick at the fact he was actually arguing back. It beat his prolonged silences and poker face.

“You call that flirting? Then what would you call Luis goggling at you like he was earlier? And you lapping up every minute of it?”

Jackpot. You knew he’d hated it. His jealously was seemingly the one thing he couldn't hide. But the question remained, why? As far as you could tell, this man hated your guts. Or was that indifferent to you, he couldn’t quite care less about what happened to you. But on the other hand, he had ample opportunity last night to make a move on you if he'd have wanted to. Hell, he could’ve had you bent over this very couch, your legs spread apart as his hips snapped into you, if he'd so desired. But he didn’t. So what was the end game here?

“And if I was enjoying Luis’s advances, what’s it to you Leon? And don’t feign professionalism, we both know you’ve had your fair share of ‘action’ shall we call it? On jobs.” You snapped, you were now on your feet and took a few steps towards him, folding your arms tight to your chest.

“I’m not following.” Leon answered, mirroring your actions of folding his arms tight to him. Your eyes involuntarily glazed over his arms once again, being distracted momentarily by the sheer size of them and the muscle tone.

“Ada Wong. Need I say more?” This seemed to shut him up, and you weren’t sure if you were correct in thinking his face looked a little more flushed than before, it was hard to tell in the dim candlelight. You knew this was a low blow, the entire agency practically had heard the rumors about Leon’s involvement with her, and how she had used him. You feared you had gone too far for a moment, his silence raising a slight level of internal panic. You advanced further forward, sighing and a pang of guilt jolted through you.

“Leon, I’m sorry. That was too far, I-”

You were interrupted by his lips crashing into yours, and his hands firmly cupping your face as he kissed you deeply. Shock froze you to the spot for a second, but it didn’t take long for you to melt into his touch as his fingers wove into your hair. You pulled away first, breathless and taking in the sight before you. Leon was panting too, his lips red, swollen and glistening slightly from being on your mouth.

“Leon, what are you-”

But you were cut off once again, his mouth re-connected with yours as he kissed you with such ferocity it almost took your breath away. One hand snaked down your body to your waist, pulling you towards him with a firm grip and the other remained entangled in your hair. He gave your strands a firm pull, causing your head to jolt back which allowed him access to your neck.

“Do- you- ever- shut- up?” Leon breathed against your neck between sloppy, open mouthed kisses that caused you to gasp involuntarily. You, for once, were speechless. The only word you could manage was his name in breathless whispers and gasps as he kissed down your neck and to your chest. The hand that was pressed into your hip began making its way up your stomach under your shirt towards your breasts. His hands were cold against your flushed skin, making you gasp as he massaged your chest, your nipple perking up at his touch. He pecked at your neck still, but quickly stopped causing you to sigh as his blue eyes met yours.

“Is this okay?” He asked, earnestly and with the softest tone you had ever heard emanate from his mouth.

“Yeah.” You managed to breathe, and just like that, Leon hooked his arms underneath your thighs in one swift motion, lifting you off of the ground so your legs were wrapped around his waist. You gasped in complete shock as Leon practically threw you down on the couch, his lips were immediately on yours again as you lay flat on your back. He pulled away as quickly as he’d connected, and you moaned slightly at the lack of contact. Leaning back to pull his t-shirt over his head, his hair fell just perfectly out of place as he hovered over you, pupils blown out in lust as his gaze never left yours. You felt him harden against your thigh as he returned to kissing your neck, and you instinctively reached between the two of you to palm him through his trousers. Leon grunted against your ear, but quickly grabbed you by your wrist and pinned the offending hand above your head.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. Gotta teach you your lesson first.” Leon murmured in your ear, and you gasped as his free hand wandered south, silencing your desire to ask further questions.

His hand easily slid past the waistband of your trousers, his fingers sliding to your sensitive spot with ease causing you to hiss at the sudden contact. Leon sat back up on his knees suddenly, unbuttoning your trousers and sliding them down your legs. You lifted your hips briefly as he did the same with your underwear, and you now lay bare in front of him.

“God, look at you.” Leon whispered, taking you in and how soaked you were for him. “Such a pretty girl, all worked up like that just for me.”

Leon gently traced your inner thighs, getting closer to where you desperately needed him to touch you. You were sighing and whimpering as he missed every spot you needed him to be.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, feigning innocence and all you could muster was a weak moan in reply. Suddenly, he plunged two digits deep inside you and you cried out at the sudden full feeling. He clamped his free hand to your mouth, hissing at you to shut up. You pathetically whimpered against his palm, as he massaged your sweet spot, causing you to writhe beneath him. He pumped his fingers at an unrelenting pace, and the all too familiar feeling in your stomach began building with intensity. You threw your head back as his thumb circled your clit, threatening to push you over the edge until… Nothing. He stopped. His fingers withdrew and your head shot up in absolute despair. He removed his hand from your mouth and a smirk was tugging at his lips.

“What-wha?” You breathed, the ache settling between your legs and tears almost forming in your eyes at the lack of release.

“Leon, what-” You continued, your eyes searching his face for an answer. You thought maybe for a moment there was danger. Leon leant down towards you, his mouth inches away from your ear, his breath making your skin prickle.

“As I said, gotta teach you your lesson.” Leon hummed lowly in your ear, and you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated moan against him. Before you even had a chance to process what he’d said, his fingers were deep inside of you once more, causing you to gasp once again and he chuckled smugly against you.

“Leon, please… Please.” You begged pathetically as he pumped two fingers into you, you felt your release building once again as fast as it had before. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had you unraveling beneath him, a writhing mess of pants and moans of his name.

This was exactly what he had wanted. You’d been giving him attitude since you’d been paired together, and this had finally put you in your place. Leon had always been interested in you, and this was exactly what he was afraid would happen. He didn’t want to compromise his professionalism, which is why he thought it best to keep you at bay by being less than conversational and pleasant. What he didn’t count on was your attitude turning him on so fucking much. The constant challenges and jabs. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Right now, all he could hear were your soft moans of his name and it was driving him crazy.

You were right on the edge, and you almost cried out as he repeated the same as before, removing his fingers at the very last second and leaving you a writhing mess beneath him.

All you could manage was a string of his name and various protests. He simply laughed smugly at you, and if you weren’t so worked up you would’ve killed him.

“You have to ask next time, sweetheart.”

You nodded weakly, your eyelids heavy as tears of sheer frustration coated your lashes.

“Yes, Leon. I’ll ask I promise-” You whimper, and he chuckles again darkly as you struggled to form a sentence. Your hips were unrelenting, attempting to chase some kind of release, and he pinned you down in place before sinking his digits in again, continuing at that same detrimental pace that had you struggling to vocalise anything but his name. You felt it again, the familiar build in your stomach.

“Can I? Leon, p-please-”

“Can you what?”

“Leon-” You couldn’t verbalise your thoughts, your brain a jumbled mess with only one thought running through it.

“Use your words.” He commanded, still slamming his fingers onto your sweet spot causing you to see white.

“C-Can I please cum?” You managed to force the words out, and as soon as you asked, he approved your request. You allowed yourself to fall apart beneath him, your legs shaking and eyes shutting as you’d finally been allowed the release you’d been desperately chasing. You clenched around his fingers as he fucked you through it, only stopping once you began pushing him away from overstimulation. A shit eating grin spread across Leon’s features as you lay there, completely high on just him.

“Good girl, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

It seemed you’d finally won his approval after all.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #re4 #resident evil 4 #i am not okay #an unhinged human being

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countdown-if · 8 months

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"Countdown" is a slice-of-life inspired by "Gilmore Girls," and is rated 18+.

Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling.

Who were they?

Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo.

In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings.

Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate.

Form relationships, pursue your passions, burn bridges etc.,—the decision is entirely up to you.

🍁 Customise your MC (gender, style, personality etc...).

🍁 Choose 1 out of 3 part-time jobs (p.s. 'if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen' and pursue another in your new school!)

🍁 Choose your path. Are you aiming for a top Uni like Harvard next? Or maybe you'll step foot into the world of music? Rumour has it 'Crimson Haze' is looking for a new addition. What will it be?

🍁 Romance 1 out of 6 love interests.

🍁 A lot more in store!

Casey Decker (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

Your friendship goes way back to the nappy days. With both of your mothers on the younger end of the spectrum, it’s no surprise you grew to be close too—'best friends' type of close.

Casey is a ray of sunshine, full of life, and quite possibly the jelly to your peanut butter. They’re sweet like that—they can be, at least. But best friends should be just that: best friends. Besides, as of recently, Casey is taken.

Appearance: Medium-length, straight, golden blond hair covers the nape of their neck. They have slightly tanned skin, a sprinkle of freckles across their nose and cheeks, and grey eyes.

Lake Aydin (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

Lake has just started working at the grocery store nearby your house. High-school dropout, you assume. They don’t talk much…to you. Kind of a mystery, that one. Their social media confirms just that—there's not much to go by.

Also, your first meeting wasn't the greatest or smoothest. But one thing's for sure: you'll be around there a lot, so you might as well get talking in the meantime, right?

Appearance: Dark brown eyes, pale skin, and short, straight black hair for m!L. For f!L, it's medium-length black hair. They wear glasses whenever they remember.

Harry/Hallie Johnson (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

H doesn't actually go to your school, but events are often organised as a collaboration between a handful of private schools, both of yours included. So yeah, you might see them around.

H is good at all of that—the networking, the galas, the fundraising, and public speaking part. They know what they want, and they have a resume to show for it. H is CC—charismatic and confident. They're who parents wish their kids would bring home, so needless to say, they've got your grandparents' stamp of approval.

Appearance: Deep brown skin, short tightly curled black hair for m!H, and a little longer than shoulder-length, tightly curled black hair for f!H. They have light brown eyes.

Santiago/Samara Garcia (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

S is an academic with tunnel vision for success. They're consistently at the top of the class, leading the ranks, and on a mission to become valedictorian.

What sets S apart from the majority, you might ask? They're one of the only two people who got into the private school solely based on merit. No mommy's or daddy's money, none of that. It's all about brains and drive.

And what about you? Are you a high achiever? If yes, expect a somewhat healthy rivalry. Heads up, though—S doesn't fail. If no, they'll look down on you, and they won't make any effort to hide that. It's a double-edged sword.

Appearance: They have wavy brunette, borderline black, nearly shoulder-length hair, tan skin, and hazel eyes. They also have three beauty marks: one above their left eyebrow, one right below the left corner of their lip, and one on the tip of their nose.

Riven/Raven Rodrigo (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

R is destined to be a superstar. Three years ago, R and 3 of their friends formed a band called 'Crimson Haze,' and it seems like all their hard work has finally paid off this summer. They've had a couple of gigs overseas, and they've done really well. They're on their way to major stardom, but first, they need to figure out a few things. Something's missing—perhaps a fifth and final member?

R is a passionate musician, a reckless friend, and a nonchalant lover. Music is their life. However, their love life is...unsteady. They don't do distractions, aka relationships; only fun.

Appearance: They have dyed jet-black hair, short messy waves for m!R, and long messy waves for f!R. They also have amber eyes and olive skin.

Nolan/Naya Brown (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

N is the star athlete and the school's pride and joy. They have a lot of eyes on them, watching and expecting big things to come. On the court, they're a beast, but in class? Not so much. Their grades are below average, and if they want to keep competing for that full-ride scholarship, they need to bring their grades all the way up.

N is a typical cool and popular kid—playful, funny, and well-liked around the school. Whether they remember it or not, you share a history. You used to know N. FYI, they've been in a committed relationship for the past two and a half years.

Appearance: They have light brown skin in the winter and medium-brown skin in the summer. Their hair is dark brown, with short and loosely curled hair for m!N, and long and loosely curled dark hair for f!N.

DEMO TBA | FORUM

#countdown if #slice of life #interactive fiction #interactive novel #hosted games #choice of games #choicescript #cog #wip

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peaxhxhair · 4 months

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Hello!😁

Can i request Lucifer with a male!reader s/o that had a bad encounter while being out and about, exploring the pride ring? Like when male s/o arrives home he acts all gloomy until bedtime where lucifer tries to comfort and cheer him up, peppering him with kisses and hugs until it suddenly turns a little bit too-heated and then smutty shenanigans ensues👀

A/n: HELLO!! Thank you SO much for the request! This is my first time writing a kinda smutty fanfic so PLEASE forgive me if it's shit 😭 lmk if you want a part two!

Pairing: Lucifer x Male!Reader

Warning: NSFW CONTENT, Handjob, Cuz (idk what else to put here I cant lie 😭)

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Hazbin hotel - MASTERLIST

Kofi <3

------ MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT ------

The pride ring was your favourite place. It was just so… interesting to you. There was something about the blood splattered streets of hell that made you want to explore every inch of it. Your partner thought it was a bad idea for you to go out alone - especially around the likes of cannibal town.

You knew that Lucifer just wanted to keep you safe, but you were a grown man - fully capable of protecting yourself. He, of course, would rather protect you himself, but you couldn’t rely on him for everything.

It was near noon when you reached the entrance to cannibal town. You knew to avoid the people, to avoid being eaten alive or something. So, you slithered around the outskirts of the town, looking through all the alleyways before facing the open areas. You were a little surprised by how many corpses you found in each alley. Though, it was more so about how they had left anything at all.

Your face scrunched at the thought of their final moments, continuing down the street. Well, that was until you were knocked off your feet. You stumble, face colliding with the floor as you struggle to recover from being knocked over. You’re quick to pick yourself up, only to be knocked over again - landing on your ass this time.

Now looking up at whoever was knocking you around, the club in his hand drew your attention - along with the butcher’s uniform. Shit. Maybe bringing Lucifer was actually a good idea…Too late now…

You could clobber this guy if you wanted to, but was it really worth it? You could just run away. *Smack*

Oh yeah it’s definitely worth it.

—

“Fuckin’ piece of shit” You grumble as you push open the front door to your house. Your left hand was holding your nose as it poured with blood - an attempt to keep any from getting on your clothes, until you can find a tissue or something. You slam the front door behind you.

You hobble into the kitchen, shoving your bloody hands under the sink after it was turned on. Once your hands were clean, you splashed your face with water, grumbling as it just spread blood around your face instead of getting rid of it.

“Love, is that you?” Lucifer calls from upstairs. It was surprising that he actually heard you come in, considering he was usually hidden away in his office.

You chose not to answer him. It wasn’t long before he poked his head through the kitchen door, noticing your rough appearance. “What happened?” His voice was immediately filled with concern, rushing to your side. He takes your face into his hands, eyes staring into yours.

“Some butcher wanted me for lunch” You answer, and his eyebrows furrow. You look away, already knowing what he wanted to say. Instead, he just sighs.

“Did you win?” You were surprised by his question, but nodded.

“Fuck yeah I did” The grin that grows on his face was so pure - like he was so proud of you. Even if he had seen you beat someone in a fight before. He leans up to kiss your cheeks, peppering your face with kisses until you let out a chuckle. Even with his lips all over your face, he had neglected your lips entirely.

“You gonna kiss me for real or not?” You joke, before his lips finally meet yours.

-----------— 18+ MINORS DNI—-----------

His hands are on your ass in an instant - yours moving into his hair. Your teeth clash together as his tongue invades your mouth, pushing your bodies closer together. He pushes you against the counter, lifting you so you are sat on top of it.

“Sure you’re tall enough for this?” You chuckle as you pull away from his lips, he scoffs.

“You’re a real piece of work, Y'know that?” He grumbles, moving to attack your neck. You gasp at the feeling of his teeth against your skin, tugging at his hair.

His hands move to undo your belt, discarding it onto the floor before taking off his own. You begin to lift your shirt, but he doesn’t let you - his lips connected to your neck, almost like a leech. You push him off by tugging on his hair again. A groan leaves his throat - guttural.

“Take it off” you point to his shirt, and he nods - obeying. You take off your own as he turns to discard the clothing, much like he had the belts.

You gaze at his chest and he flexes as you admire him. He chuckles for a moment, before his hands return to your body, trailing down your stomach until his thumbs graze the top of your pants. He gives you a look, and you nod in return - consenting.

His hands move into your trousers, caressing your thighs as he lifts you - taking the chance to rid you of the garment. He palms you through your underwear and your whole body twitches, a needy whine leaving your lips.

“You look so pretty under me, baby” he says, and you gasp as he pushes your underwear down - your cock springing free of its constraints.

“My beautiful boy” A choked moan emits from your mouth as his fingers wrap around your length - your back arching. He attaches his lips to your chest - sloppily leaving hickey around your nipples.

He begins to stroke your cock, applying pressure to your tip with his thumb. You twitch in his hand, moaning as you squirm under him. He uses his free hand to hold your hips down - forcing you to feel everything.

“Ah~ Luci~..Please~” You whine, and he laughs. He laughs as he watches you beg and plead for him, squeezing your cock as you writhed under him.

“Please what baby? Use your words” his face creeps closer to yours, and when you lean to kiss him, he pulls away - denying you.

You stutter, struggling to find the words as his hands pleasured you. You couldn’t keep yourself from coming undone, your head surging forward as your orgasm hits you. “Aah~ Please~” You groan again as your mum paints his hand, dripping down his arm. Your head rests against his shoulder as you attempt to catch your breath.

He plants a kiss on the top of your head, and you grunt in recognition. “We’re not done yet, love” He whispers into your hair, before picking you up and carrying you up the stairs and into your bedroom.

#fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #requests open #x reader #male!reader #requests are open #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #requests

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elysiansparadise · 1 year

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Their mind is a wonderful world, their personality charming and charismatic and a shy heart capable of helping and supporting those close to them.

Aquarius Rising: Unique and loyal friend

These people grew up with an idea, to be different from everything they got used to seeing in their day to day. They could have grown up seeing many things that they didn't like, which could lead them to do things their own way and they could have difficulties with some people of authority because of it. A feeling of not fitting in either with your family or with people your age, which led you to fully appreciate when you felt that click with someone, being one of the companies, the most constant, fun and accepting. Your autonomy and independence are the most important things to you, you are always looking to forge your own path and leave your mark on whatever you are passionate about.

Although money is necessary to survive in our world, people with Pisces in the 2nd house tend to have a different approach to economic issues. They will not hesitate to use that money to help other people, coming to show many altruistic touches from a young age. They should learn to balance what they give and what they receive, because it is likely that on occasions they sin out of kindness and lend or give money to people who they will never return. Many of them may have a tendency to spend their money on their hobbies, especially if these are linked to art or esotericism, and sometimes they may feel that they spend money as fast as it comes into their hands. Their creativity and originality is something that gives them that confidence boost, it's something they feel proud of themselves. Something I have noticed is that they seem to have a unique and very close appreciation of art, especially music. Feeling that they can do things their own way, that they are not tied to something or someone gives them a sense of security, as well as the power to create whatever their mind wants. As it is a house linked to self-esteem, it can tell us about a certain variability in it, a lot of modesty on the part of the native and not knowing how to react to compliments, and although they do not know how, they will treasure it with great affection. They value things that are a little deeper, they don't like superficialities of any kind and they will always look for what seems most sincere and significant to them.

The mind of those with Aries in the 3rd house is admirable. Independent and quick thinking, these natives are people who remain firm to their own ideals, opinions and do not seek to please others, they seek autonomy in its maximum splendor. They are excited by the idea of connecting with people who, just like them, have a mind of their own, one that is not biased by pleasing people behaviors or attitudes. They easily fascinate others, because they say what they think without fear of what might happen, they are firm and blunt with what they say, with a quick intellect capable of quickly understanding ideas of any kind. They have a tendency to be easily distracted and lose interest after doing something for a long time, they constantly seek mental stimuli and that is precisely what makes them have very varied interests. They are very ingenious people when it comes to making comments, they stand out for their great sense of humor, since this is random and capable of seeming hilarious to anyone. A mixture of reasoning and humor. They love the idea of constantly learning new things, and if possible, doing it on their own, as it is something they enjoy doing more independently. In the case of having siblings, the relationship can oscillate between being dynamic and fun and having many differences with them, they are not usually very attached or demonstrative to each other but they can support each other when necessary.

With Taurus in the 4th house it is very likely that the native sees his home as something monotonous in some sense, the same environment, the same discussions, everything seems to have been the same for the natives. Something that absolutely all these natives grow up with is the desire to have something stable in their lives, to finally have a home that gives them peace and conformity, and when they finally find something that gives them that stability and tranquility, they don't let go easily. Somehow their environment influenced that need to protect what is theirs, to keep the things that they consider important and not to show vulnerability so easily. And it's not that they aren't emotional, on the contrary, they are very emotional, it's just that they reserve a large part of their feelings. This Taurus overlay also indicates that they may feel closer to one of their parents than to the other, since with the latter they tend to feel some distance or even distrust in some cases. Those who really know them will know that they can be very stable people in their relationships, people who fill their loved ones with details and security, as well as being reliable people who will always try to be there for those they love, either to listen to them or advise them. In order for them to feel emotional comfort, closeness with those they love is crucial, even if their adventurous and inquisitive personality encourages them and makes them attract changes, they do not like changes as much as is often rumored, stability and trust are things that they treasure and irregular or inconstant displays of affection cause them disgust.

Mercury ruling the 5th house is something very fascinating that brings many interesting suitors to the natives. Having Gemini in the 5th house makes the native master the language of seduction, makes them very adept at flirting and realising the true intentions of the people who want them, they are very observant and attentive to the actions of those who say they have an interest in them and are not fooled by them. Many different people can be attracted to them, because there is a playful and jovial beauty in them. Despite this appearance, these natives do not mince words and games, they are looking for a mental connection, someone to talk to for hours and someone who knows how to keep their attention. In terms of hobbies, many of them may like to read romance or drama novels, they will enjoy movies of these genres and even comedy ones, and of course, they can be excellent writers, especially if they have a metaphorical or poetic way of writing. From a very young age they begin to consider whether or not they want to have children, and regardless of what they choose, these natives tend to connect very well with children and have that facility to understand and communicate with them.

Having Cancer in the 6th house, that is, the house of health, it is necessary for the native to work a lot in their emotional world, since many of them may have this tendency to get sick due to some emotional discomfort that is projected on a physical level. Many of them may not sleep due to stress or intrusive thoughts, just as they may have irregular eating periods due to their emotional state. Many of them seem to understand very well the needs and emotions of other beings, both human and animal. Since I mentioned it, you can feel very close to animals and they will always be kind, loving and helpful to them, even if they are not your pets. These people seek to work for a specific reason, often a cause or a goal, and it is unlikely that they decide to dedicate to something just because they will be paid well, they seek to feel comfortable with their work and do something that they really like, and feel that it is of some use to them and to others. It is likely that these natives get bored doing household chores and may procrastinate doing them, considering them very boring and monotonous. Something very common in them is constantly doing things they used to do as children, whether it's watching the same movies they loved so much or listening to songs that take them back to moments they treasure. They may have a tendency to melancholy and some mood swings.

These people do not seek to be like someone, they seek to be themselves and do things their way, which makes them stand out from the crowd and attract attention. Leo in the 7th house manifests itself as a charming and charismatic person even if the native himself does not perceive himself that way. Very protective and stable people in their relationships, this without neglecting the fun and joy that they seek to bring to those they love the most. Despite this, the natives could feel invisible to others who claimed to love them, therefore, what they seek in a relationship is attention, perseverance and a noble heart willing to love them as much and with the intensity with which they love themselves. They make clear that they don’t need someone to be happy, and they seem to be okay without any partner, but sometimes it can be due to the fear of becoming dependent or loving a person who will leave them. They give their partners that passion for living, reasons to smile and lots of love. They are capable of making their loved one feel the most attractive person in the world, as well as the luckiest. They will always look for the happiness of both as a couple, and they will seek to support their partner unconditionally. They tend to get carried away more by their emotions when they are in a relationship and they will always take care of that love that brings so much euphoria to their lives. Lucky to attract the attention of others. This placement indicates that the native can marry a passionate, ambitious person who will make their love for them very evident.

There is too much going on in their internal world, and that is what we will explore through Virgo in the 8th house. Many of them struggle with this tendency to overthink things, from why what happens in their lives happens, to why people have certain attitudes towards them [whether good or bad]. These people may have felt that at some point in their life they were being asked to be perfect, whether it was their family, friends or even themselves who wanted to achieve perfection because they felt that there was something wrong with themselves. Being ruled by Mercury, it enhances the curiosity of the native, who will love to talk and discover all those topics that seem interesting to him. They tend to be very interested in things that many others find strange, taboo or very complex. They tend to be attracted to intelligent and mysterious people with a cunning sense of humor. Since we are talking about attraction, we must say that these people may seem aloof or indifferent, but they carry a great sexual desire that is simply subtle in the eyes of others. This independent personality that anyone would notice about them is what is often seen as irresistible to others. The subject of domination can be something very attractive for them [either dominating or being dominated], in addition, they seek to satisfy all the fantasies of their partner in various ways and find pleasure through the pleasure of their partner.

Sometimes what seems different or very distant to us can be terrifying, but it is not the case of these natives, who are fascinated and enchanted even with the small details of other cultures or countries. Libra in the 9th house gives them the ability to appreciate different types of beauty and to connect harmoniously with many kinds of people regardless of their origin. They are enchanted by the idea of knowing the unknown, of being able to have the opportunity to travel and see those places that have always caught their attention. Art is something very beautiful to them, they are in awe of art and it would not be surprising that many of them do some kind of art as a hobby. They are interested in social issues around the globe, and have a strong belief that we are all and should be treated equally. Justice is something very important to them and they always stand up when witnessing situations of injustice. This placement can indicate studying something related to humanities, design, art or even law. The union is something crucial for them, and although they have a strong individuality, they understand that unity is strong and necessary on many occasions, they will be willing to help people who need it. They teach other people the beauty and joy that sharing time or thoughts with someone can bring, likewise many people may feel that these natives are experts in connecting and understanding others no matter how different they may be.

There is something fascinating running through the aura of these natives and the person responsible for this is Scorpio in the 10th house. There is something about them that makes them fascinating in the public eye, something magnetic that makes you unable to take your eyes off them and the more you see their look, the more reasons it gives you to keep watching. They draw attention quite easily, as they are a mix of mystery and sexyness, standing a few feet from you but feeling so far away at the same time. These natives can have somewhat of a mixed reputation, while some view them as unapproachable, others may describe them as controversial, whether due to their unconventional ideals, actions, or simply labelling them. These natives seek to project themselves as strong and unbreakable people, they dislike feeling that they have revealed a lot about themselves or that they have shown themselves to be vulnerable in some way. Mars and Pluto rule this house, the career house, so you are blessed with the ambition of both planets, as well as perseverance and leadership skills. You can suggest that they will work on something in which they have a leadership position, where they make important decisions or that allows them to transform or make big changes in some area.

Sagittarius in the 11th house can give us many interesting interpretations. The first is that once conversing with them, these natives can seem more sociable than they really are. Many of them know how to have fun, and have that unique ability to light up the atmosphere of the site and the mood of others, however they give a very special meaning to the term "friendship" and that is that although it is crucial for them to know someone with whom they share points of view and a sense of humour, they seek loyal and deep company, with whom they can ask to talk about many topics no matter how deep or personal they are. This house is ruled by Jupiter, so it augurs charisma, charm and popularity [whether in real life or on the internet], likewise, it also indicates that through their work they can make a lot of profit [especially if Jupiter it's here or in earth houses]. The person can get a lot of luck through working with others. They can have that facility to create friends through the internet or with whom there is a lot of physical distance. They are very visionary people with many long-term plans, it is likely that they work on many things or projects simultaneously, we must mention that there is a probability that some of these natives procrastinate.

With Capricorn in the 12th house there is friction between you and the world around you, very subtle for them, but one that presses on your chest and hits your mind every time you interact with someone. A part of you wants to connect with others and forge lasting bonds with lots of people, but memories of a lonely past where attempts were crushed by feelings of not fitting in and being judged have made you shut down and forget the idea, that dream of clicking with people. Showing yourself in control of the situation, even of yourself but deep down you fear. Fears, it's something we all have... but what about you? What can a being as sublime as you fear? Falling into a routine, doing what others tell you to do, or feeling like you can't forge your path seems terrifying. But if there is something that you fear more often than this, it’s having even the slightest proof of failure, the fear of taking a wrong step that will bring down your efforts, feeling that there is no reward for working hard. You want to stand out and feel like you are successful, being just yourself, you could be compared a lot in the past either by others or by your younger self, so you developed the need to do things on your own, the way that you want and of course, being someone unique. Burdened with guilt, emotions and a negative perception of yourself that you try to supply and alleviate by achieving great things and living up to the high expectations you set for yourself. If you only knew that your mere presence, that your actions, your dreamy side, your ambitions and how you pursue them are truly inspiring to those around you. "Be the person you would have liked to have by your side." Many times you felt alone, especially when things fell apart, but you know that you don't want to be that for others. The people who are with you feel capable of achieving whatever they want to achieve because they have your support, they have your vision, and most importantly, you are there. You do not need to prove yourself to anyone, not even to yourself, you are a person deserving of good things and good company. Future doesn’t have to be the way your past was, it’s going to be alright, love.

#rising #astrology #aquarius rising #aqua rising #aquarius #aquarius ascendant #ascendant #natal chart #birth chart #aqua ascendant #astrology notes #astrology observation #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations

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eff4freddie · 1 month

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Touch | Part Six

Words: 5.8k

Just as you approach something resembling contentment, this broken world will exact its toll.

Warnings: smutty smut, trauma, grief, Joel hasn't come to terms with what happened in Salt Lake, Joel is bad at feelings, but pretty good with his hands. Minors DNI.

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

You were busy again, the new table earning its keep almost immediately, and the ease that you moved around your treatment room, the way that you could bend without reaching over, push with your weight rather than your wrists, meant that you could concentrate more, heal more effectively. You hadn’t realised how much the clumsiness of the old dining table had been holding you back. Every day that you used it, you wanted to find a new way to thank Joel. Maybe even sometimes, with all of your clothes on.

Except that the idea also terrified you, in a way that you were struggling to really understand. The idea of him, of being naked with him, not that you really fully had been, of kissing him even, no that you had, was enough to send an absolute riot of butterflies careening through your guts and down into your legs, into your knees. The idea of him scared you, his reputation proceeded him, and you kept thinking of how wary Maria was, how protective Ellie seemed to be, how sweetly oblivious Tommy was most of the time which you were beginning to suspect was actually a choice. You wanted to pull them all into a room and forensically map out who the fuck Joel Miller actually was. You were aware you were thinking like a crazy person. You didn’t care.

Because then when he was with you, when you fell into his orbit, looked into his eyes, there was something heavier and realer and more tangible than your stupid, flighty, squawking fears. It worried you, that he made you into a different person when he was around you. You weren’t sure what that person was capable of getting up to, left to her own devices, but you had an inkling.

You knew that you were pushing him away, pushing it all away, because it scared you, but also it felt like the only sane thing to do, had kept you alive for years and years, had meant that when you lost people it hurt less, maybe. Being busy again, and fairly invested in maintaining your denial for as long as you could manage it, you got back to your usual routine of seeing the broken and weary people of Jackson early, before the work hours, and then steadily throughout the day. It afforded you the illusion of being sociable, of contributing to the community, without having to actually be in it. Without Ray and Marla, with Maria and Tommy wrapped up in the baby, with Joel being…Joel, you had collected a long list of clients and a dwindling list of friends. It could have made you sad if you thought about it, so you didn’t, and you were too busy anyway, and how could you be lonely with all these people in your house?

Besides which, in the quiet moments you could feel the tension in people, the uneasiness woven tight into the musculature of most of the residents you now saw. Not everyone knew Marla or Jacob or the others personally, not everyone even necessarily liked them, especially not fucking Jacob, but everyone had an investment in their safe and hopefully bountiful return.

To escape it, you went for long walks along the foreshore of Jackon’s lake at the bottom of the township, until the dying light forced you back. You were there, hands in the freezing water feeling out for flat stones you could warm in hot water and press into particularly assertive muscle knots, when you heard the yelling. You were up and sprinting, the twisty and icy path underneath you occasionally threatening to boot you into the snow, and if you’d had time to think about it you have marvelled at the difference in your reaction from Joel and Ellie’s homecoming to this one. The elation you felt at their return, the relief of it, not just for you and Marla and Ray, but for Jackon. For what it meant for this community. For your community.

Trying not to knock yourself out on the way to the gate meant that you didn’t initially notice the quiet. There was a smattering of people still out despite the cold, the encroaching darkness, but they weren’t rushing forward, weren’t really helping the returned residents, were in fact milling around, some just standing in quiet observance, and it occurred to you for a second that they were like onlookers at a funeral. You pushed forward into the crowd, trying to see past unmoving shoulders, past still bodies, moving towards the sounds of horses, of panting breaths you weren’t sure belonged to whom.

And then you arrived at the front, and you had a clear view. And you realised the panting breaths were your own.

There were only two horses, and only three riders. Marla at the reigns of one, Jacob slung over the back of her saddle, slumping over at an odd angle, his head rolled back in a way that you thought would really strain his cervical spine, until you realised he was tied to the horse, had been roped around Marla’s midsection, that he was nearly as pale as the snow around you, that he was very dead. The other rider stared, unblinking, into the distance and was eventually helped down and led to the infirmary, not ever having said a word.

Marla had seen you, had watched you fight your way to the front of the crowd, had searched you out. She was shivering, a splatter of blood across her chest and under her neck, and you couldn’t tell if it was hers or if it was Jacob’s or someone else’s entirely, and in that moment staring into her eyes you knew that it didn’t matter, that it would never matter, that whatever damage it was it had already been calculated, tallied, on a ledger somewhere none of you would ever be able to balance.

You motioned to a few of the men around you, gesturing to the ropes around Marla’s middle. ‘Cut him loose,’ you said, in a voice you didn’t recognise, and reached your arms up to hold Marla’s hand. You held it, limp and contrite in yours, while Jacob’s body was freed from hers. When he was lifted away she slumped forward, her back having held his weight for god knows how long, and you caught her, pulled her down from the horse on wobbling legs, let her crumple underneath you and set her down onto the pavement. Someone pulled a blanket over her shoulders and you held her in it, gripped her hard and tight and let her shake in your arms. You looked up into the eyes of Ray, who looked like he might throw up or pass out or both, and you pulled him down with you, wrapped him around her while he cried into her hairline, and you watched as the horses were led away.

‘Did you bring anything?’ someone asked from the crowd, quiet but hopeful, and you wanted to reach up and slap them for every moronic word they had dared speak into existence, had thought to utter in this sacred space of abject loss.

Marla never answered, and you squeezed her. She twisted in your arms to look up at you, an angry purple and yellow bruise forming having formed under her eye. You turned to Ray. ‘Help me get her to mine,’ you said.

You had the fire going, and you pushed your old armchair right up to it, folding Marla into it under a sea of blankets. Ray went to get something to bring her from the mess hall, something warming but easy to chew, and you perched beside her, slid down until her knees were in your lap and she was resting her head against the wing of the chair, and you stared, together, into the fire.

‘We barely made it back,’ she whispered, her voice dry, her lips chapped and windburned. You stayed still, not wanting to shake her, not wanting to do anything that might stop her from talking. ‘Rode through, all night. I wanted to bring him back, bring them all but I could only get him.’

‘Was it raiders?’ you asked, and she shook her head.

‘Both,’ she said, and you didn’t understand. ‘Raiders that had…kept a few clickers, had them locked up, had them uhhh…weaponised.’

You shuddered. ‘Like pets?’ you asked.

‘Like torture devices,’ she simply replied. You contemplated this for a second, couldn’t imagine it, the terror of being faced with that choice: raider or runner.

‘We got within a few hours of where we thought the pharmacy was,’ she went on, her voice catching. She continued to shake, her hands tremoring underneath the blanket, and you tried to tuck her in tighter, tried to warm her up. ‘We’d gone through a valley, ended up on the other side of a glade, it would have been so beautiful in the before times. We found a farmhouse, looked abandoned. Wasn’t.’

She was jiggling her foot and you put your hand out to hold it, feeling that her socks were wet. ‘By the time we realised they were already on us, were ready, had seen us coming.’

She looked at you, tears forming in her eyes. ‘They tried to lock us in the cage with them,’ she swallowed. ‘Jacob was really brave, fought them hard, stopped them from putting us in.’

If cold had gotten into her boots she must have been freezing, was risking losing a toe. You lifted the blankets to pull at her sock, putting your hand on her bare skin to warm it.

‘But one of them, two of them maybe, they got out,’ she continued. You held the ball of her foot in your hand, rubbing your thumb over the top of her foot in what you hoped were comforting little circles.

‘I just wanted to get him back here,’ she said, just as you felt it, a raised, rough ridge on her ankle, tendrils of heat snaking up her shin. You threw the blankets back, saw the bite there, the way the ropes of twisting fungus had already started their march up to her heart. You froze, your terrified eyes snapping to her wet, sorry, scared ones.

‘Don’t let Ray do it,’ she said.

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been there before, you knew where it was. You wrapped on the door so hard you would later discover the skin on your knuckles had split. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears, your vision narrowed down to a pinprick, the look on Marla’s face so drawn, so scared, so resolute, imprinted on the inside of your eyelids. You kept wrapping, hopping from side to side, your tears mingling with the frigid air. You called for him on his front porch, your voice high and choking on the fear, on the grief in it.

He'd wrenched the door open, having pulled his boots on but not yet done up the laces, the furrow in his brow deep, his eyes wild when he clocked you, when he checked your six.

‘Jesus, are you? What is it?’ he spluttered, and you couldn’t let him finish, had to get the words out in case they poisoned you.

‘She’s bit, Joel,’ you spat out, watching his face fall.

‘Who, Ellie?’ he asked, panic rising in his voice, and you choked out a sob, shaking your head fiercely. He grabbed you by both shoulders, bending down to look you in the eye. You shook underneath him, wanted to launch yourself into his chest and bury yourself in it.

‘Marla,’ you said, shivering so hard your jaw was barely cooperating. ‘She came back bit.’

‘Where is she?’ he asked, and you told him. You’d locked her in your treatment room. She hadn’t turned yet, and you figured there was still an hour or two, maybe. The tremors you’d thought were the cold, shock.

‘Please, Joel,’ you said, and he was already heading back into the house to grab his rifle. Tears were streaming down your face now, your knees threatening to give. ‘Please be kind about it.’

He pulled you in, off his porch and into his living room. Set you down on the rug beside the fire.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘You stay here, you stay warm. You wait for me. You don’t come lookin’, you hear me?’

You nodded, and he shook his head at you. ‘Repeat it,’ he said.

‘I won’t come looking,’ you said, quiet and desperate like a child. He nodded, then, his rifle slung over his shoulder. You took a long breath in, felt the burn of it down your chest and into your lungs. Felt the electricity crackle between the two of you, arcing from his chest to yours through the air, let it fuel you for the next part.

The three of you had just left Chicago, two or so days into your trek towards Wyoming, to maybe find something better, to maybe find more of the same. Ray and Marla were ahead of you by about four paces, you deciding to hang back to let them chat. You could hear their murmurs, Ray’s giggle high and giddy when Marla made him laugh. You could imagine the two of them strolling down a sidewalk together, one hand holding their coffees with the other hand holding each other’s. You could see the golden light of the late afternoon in the trees, backlighting them as they chatted about their work, about their friends, about what movie they wanted to see on the weekend. You could imagine them going out for dinner of an evening, Marla resting her head on Ray’s shoulder as the sun set over the water, the two of them intertwined and suburban and blissfully, delightfully bored.

You were so lost in this reverie that you hadn’t realised they were talking to you until you nearly rammed into them, and you stopped to see them smiling, warmly at you.

‘You were a million miles away,’ Marla observed, and she reached out to pinch your arm.

‘Years,’ you said. ‘I was a million years away.’

You sat with your legs folded underneath you on Joel’s floor, the fire warming your skin enough to remind you that you were alive. Your stomach ached, your chest burned, you rocked backwards and forwards and tucked your chin into your chest and sobbed, alternating between wiping your tears with the top of your shirt and just letting them fall onto the carpet.

You saw yourself as if you were floating outside your body, observed yourself get up on all fours and keen into the carpet, unleashing a wail unlike anything you’d ever heard. You thought, for a second, that this woman on the floor was unrecognisable, was barely human, scratching at the rug and trying to breathe through the sobs.

The night grew darker. The fire died down. You collapsed in on yourself, felt the last guide rope tethering you to the ground fail, and you slipped under, crouched on the floor with your forehead resting on your arms, your knees numb from the weight of pressing into the rug, your mind empty, time having stopped, the world having fallen off its axis. A small part of you observed in wonder at how much grief you could carry. A larger part, a wiser part, a part that had taken a back seat to let the banshee take the wheel for a while, knew that this was so much more than Marla. Knew that it was all of them, a ledger steeped in red.

In the darkness you became vaguely aware of footsteps, the sound of the fire being stoked, logs being added. Felt a blanket thrown over your shoulders, then warm hands on the small of your back guiding you, pulling you up and over to sit astride a warm body, a strong pair of legs. You wrapped your arms around him, clung to him like a koala to a Eucalypt, snuffled your tear-streaked face into his neck, into his shirt. He held you to him, a hand buried in your hair and cradling your skull in his palm, the other wrapped around your back, easing the fabric away and tucking under, to touch you, skin to skin. You heard whispers of words, mixed with your own sobs, your own gasps. He held you through all of it, on aching bones on the hard floor, until the crashing waves settled, until you finally washed ashore.

‘You don’t have a couch,’ you said, after a while, pulling your head up to observe the oddly sparse furniture arrangement. He snickered, leaning you back to brush the hair out of your eyes, away from your wet face.

You realised, after a moment, heat on your cheeks. ‘Oh,’ you said, simply. He gazed at you, watched you put two and two together, stood unshaken in all that he had sacrificed for you.

‘But where do you sit?’ you asked, and he nodded towards the old rocking chair he’d pulled in from the porch outside. You nodded your head, because it was perfect really, and because it made sense, and because you needed it to.

‘Is she gone?’ you asked, shifting on his lap to watch his face. He blinked slowly, nodded. You felt your face crumple, felt him tighten his hold on you. ‘Was it bad?’ you choked out, and he shook his head.

‘She was so brave,’ he said, gravelly voice just above a whisper. He reached out and cupped your face, wiped a tear away, held your gaze to him. ‘She was ready. She said when it was time.’

‘She didn’t…turn?’ you asked, clinging to his forearms now, letting him anchor you. He shook his head once more.

‘No, baby,’ he said, and you wanted to wrap yourself up in the sound of it, let it blanket you in warmth and quiet, burrow down into it and hibernate for the winter.

‘Thank you,’ you said, simply. He hummed in response, collecting a tear on his thumb and raising it to his lips, licking it clean. You gasped at the sight of it, his eyes never leaving yours, squirming on his lap, the sudden heat in your cunt catching you off guard. ‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows at you. ‘Are your legs numb?’ and he laughed then, because you had managed to surprise him, and after he caught his breath he sheepishly nodded. ‘Take me to bed, then,’ you said, climbing off him and extending a hand. You hauled him up, his knees creaking. For a moment the both of you stood, staring at each other in the light of the fire. You felt breathless with need for him, your head swimming, the sadness shifting just enough to let the heat in, the want. ‘Up the stairs,’ he told you. You slipped your hand into his paw.

Joel’s bedroom was sparse, the walnut oak bed pressed up against the wall, a stack of books on the floor beneath a bare lamp, a guitar in the corner. His scent was all over the sheets, all over the clothes strewn around the floor. You pressed yourself against him in the hope that you would absorb some of it into your cotton.

The moment you crossed the threshold his hands were on you, pulling your clothes from you like they had personally insulted him, shucking your jeans off your hips and pulling your panties down with them until you were bare, standing before him at the foot of his bed. He took a step back and you watched his face as his gaze devoured you, the heat of it so scorching that you could swear you could feel his fingers on you even standing three feet away. You trembled from the cold air and the intensity of it, and he saw in your face, read in you that you wanted to turn away from it, from the intimacy of it.

‘Don’t,’ he all but whispered, coming towards you and running his hands up on the outside of your arms. ‘Don’t be shy, not now,’ he said. He slipped a hand behind your back and his knees between yours, pushing you gently onto the bed behind you, laid his body over you and nipped at the skin behind your ear. You pulled at his flannel, trying to claw it from him without even unbuttoning it, groaning in frustration when the garment held fast. He snickered, his little lopsided grin, as he pulled it away.

You lifted yourself up on one arm, bringing the other to cradle him to you, licks and nibbles to his collar bone, to the patches of hair on his chin. His brought his hands to your breasts, pebbled the nipple with his fingers while he pushed and rolled them, squeezed them together just to watch them bounce. He was hard and heavy between your legs, still covered in his jeans, and you lifted shaking fingers to his belt buckle. He froze, a sharp intake of breath between his teeth, as he watched you. You faltered, worried for a second you had read it all wrong, that he was going to push you from him, that he had seen something in you, that you had revealed something wrong and gnarled.

‘Do you…should I?’ you stuttered, and he came to his senses again, his brow creasing when he saw you were floundering.

‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ he said, and you thought it would be kinder if he just set you on fire at that point, ‘darlin’ I was just awed for a second, that somethin’ as gorgeous as you would want a man like me. An old man like me.’

You felt the relief wash over you, your pulse quickening now but not from fear. ‘Seasoned,’ you grinned, bringing him back down to you, pulling him on top of you as his hands helped yours to free him, push his jeans over his hips. ‘Worn in,’ you went on, and he grinned at your little game. ‘Fine wine,’ you finished, and he snickered again.

‘Vinegar,’ he said, and you pushed his head down to your chest, fed him your breast, let him lave at your nipple while you gasped and clutched at his hair.

‘Experienced,’ you whimpered, and he huffed out a warm laugh into your breastbone. You wanted to unlock your ribs, swing them open like an ancient garden gate, and capture it there for safe keeping.

Free, now, the two of you naked and lying together on top of his blanket, the sheets rumpling underneath you as you rutted against each other. He reached a hand down to cup your sex, groaning when he felt how wet he had made you, how you were dripping for him. You gasped as he ran his fingers up and over your slit, gently teasing your lips apart, testing you, teasing you. You rolled your hips, trying to snare him, trying to slide him inside, but he worked against you, zigged when you zagged, and your frustrated little gasps delighted him.

‘Joel,’ you groaned, your voice tight across your chest, not enough air in your lungs to properly scold him. He ignored you, instead lifting his lips to his fingers and sampling a little taste. You watched him, eyes wide as his fell shut at the taste of you.

‘So sweet,’ he said, almost to himself, before he opened his eyes as if he just remembered you were there. ‘Here, baby,’ he said, and he fed yourself to you, his fingers sliding over your tongue as you suckled at them, his hot breath on your face as he watched you, pupils dark in the half-light of his lamp, sweat forming on his brow.

When you had sucked them clean he lowered them again, slipped them inside you, bending down to rest his ear on your mouth when you began to pant, to whimper.

‘Show me,’ he said, pulling your hand to your cunt and watching as you began slow, lazy circles around your clit. He furrowed his brow, pushed off you and down to watch properly, lifted a leg to prop you open, planting your foot on the mattress beneath you to open you wide and obscene in front of him. You blushed, moved to cover your face with your hands, but he stopped and caught you, brought your fingers back to your core before he slipped inside again. You raised your head to look at him beneath you and you realised he was learning you, studying your movements to replicate them later, letting you teach him how to touch you so that you’d never have to do it alone again.

Your first orgasm hit you hard. Under his careful, studious gaze you felt yourself unravel, your legs shaking where he held you open, his hand grasping at your ankle to keep you from slamming shut. So lost in the feeling of it, of the blooming heat expanding out and into your belly, of the undulations of your cunt around his fingers, that you barely noticed him slip his fingers from you and slide to the ground beside the bed, pushing your legs into your chest and holding them there, pressing you in half all the better to ease his tongue into your cunt and lick up your spend, kitten licks at your sensitive clit before plunging his tongue into your hole, breathing hard through his nose and groaning, uttering filth in the base of his throat as he devoured you, wrung your second orgasm from you in a matter of minutes, rolling from side to side and head thrown back, hands tangled in his hair as his mouth rode you, as he stayed with you up to your peak and then over it, savouring and lapping at your come, rutting into the side of the bed as he let your thighs down to rest on his shoulders, your breath ragged and rippling with pleasure, hands clutching to the blanket to steady himself, to catch his breath.

He gazed at you in repose, ran his eyes over your sopping cunt up to your heaving belly, to the curve of the underside of your breast, the nipples straining into the cold air, and then up to your face, your head thrown back as you came down, as you squirmed from the overstimulation still coursing through you, as you let your hands drop beside you, sated and glorious in his worship of you.

You swallowed, your mouth, lips, throat dry. With shaky hands you reached for him, grabbed at the air above his shoulders, felt him shift and rise up to meet you, felt his weight blanketing you as you came back to yourself. With one hand in your hair and the other tracing your cheek, your jaw, you opened your eyes to stare into his, the desire carved hard and deep into his features.

‘Take it,’ you whispered, watching as his bottom lip quivered with need. ‘Please, Joel.’

He shifted his weight to one arm, reached down between you as you lifted your legs to bracket his hips, crossing your feet at the ankles behind his back. You felt him guide his cock to the weeping maw of your cunt.

‘Please,’ you whispered again, as you felt him slip inside you, the burn and the stretch and the force of him, so hard and pulsing as he parted you. He dropped his head, sighing, and you planted your lips to his brow, whimpered at the weight of his cock inside you, at the weight of the two of you finally, finally joined.

‘She’s tight, baby,’ he said, his brow creasing. He moved his hips, shoving further into you in one shot, and you gasped, grabbed at his shoulders, brought his eyes back to yours. He paused, gazing into your eyes, read the trepidation in them. ‘S’ok baby,’ he cooed, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheekbone. ‘You can do it,’ he encouraged, and you felt the warmth of his reassurance radiate down your thighs. ‘We can take our time,’ he said, languidly pulling back from you before gently, achingly, taking his place again. ‘Got all night for ya,’ he said, and you realised he had started to ramble, and that under his hot breath, on top of his blanket in his sparse bedroom lit only by his bedside lamp, in the cold Jackson night where the snow dampened all the noise, all the loss, all the sharp edges down, you never wanted him to stop whispering his filthy encouragement to you, never wanted him to stop easing his way into you, to the core of you, marking you where only he belonged.

‘Doin’ so good for me,’ he went on, his eyes closing on their own, lost in the grip of your cunt around him, in the heat of you. Finally he was fully seated, the warmth of his belly coming to rest upon yours. He settled there, reluctant to move, until you squirmed underneath him, caged whimpers escaping your throat. He opened his eyes, his lopsided grin appearing above you, as he planted a kiss on your hairline, gazed down at you as you stretched around him. He brought his hand down to cup your jaw again, held you there under his stare, as he withdrew his hips and eased back in again, pushing deeper into you that you gasped when he bottomed out, his eyes never leaving yours as your mouth dropped open in surprise at the feeling he was pulling from you, at the need and the ache of your cunt spread so open and wanting for him, at the way he was so effortlessly taking you apart, so calmly and so warmly unravelling you.

‘Too good,’ you complained, your brow saddling and jaw clenching, as you felt your cunt grip and release, grip and release. He cooed at you, revelling in your whimpers, gasped as you did, shared in your breath, made you submit to the divinity he was pushing you towards. This was how your third orgasm found you.

Locked in his gaze you could only lie beneath him, holding him to you by the shoulders and groaning as he pistoned in and out, watching his eyes slam shut as he was dragged under, submitted to the pull, his come washing the fear and the stress and the grief out of you, replacing it only with scorching heat, with a kind of pleasure indistinguishable from a greedy, pernicious want, with something that, in another life, you could have shaped into love.

You lay, entwined together, under his blanket. Your head on his chest, ear to his heartbeat, you felt your body rise and fall as he breathed underneath you. You hadn’t wanted the night to end, hadn’t wanted to close your eyes and wake to the aftermath. Together you lay and watched the sunrise. Occasionally Joel ran his fingers up and down your arm to let you know he was still there.

‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he hummed in response. You kept your head down, listening to his pulse quicken as you spoke. ‘Canna ask you something?’ you said, jaw resting on his ribs.

‘Uhhuh,’ he said, but his fingers were stopped now, frozen in place on your shoulder.

‘Before, when we were…’ you trailed off, because even though hours before he had been eyelevel with your swollen, puffy cunt, now suddenly talking about it felt too intimate. ‘Before,’ you started again, ‘you said you didn’t think I’d want a man like you.’

‘An old man,’ he corrected, and you smiled.

‘Seasoned,’ you corrected, and he groaned, theatrically. ‘But you said a man like you, then an old man like you,’ you reminded him. He wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the temperature in the room drop. ‘What did you mean?’ you ploughed on, because you were in it now.

He thought for a moment, swallowing hard. You shifted in his arms, looked up at him, saw the flicker of panic there, before he reset his features in stone. You pulled away from him in surprise, not having seen that look directed at you in weeks, not since the first time he had appeared reticent and sore at your door. Your stomach dropped.

‘I gotta check on the horses,’ he said, rolling you out of the way and moving to get up. You sat up with him, grabbing at his arm.

‘Joel,’ you said, trying to pull him back towards you, but so easily overpowered. He rolled his shoulder, shaking you off.

‘The two that came back, they need to be checked over. Waited for first light.’

‘Joel, I don’t understand what’s happening.’ He was standing, pacing around the room pulling his clothes back together, gathering yours and dropping them on the end of the bed. He stared at you, expectant, but you refused to move.

‘What kind of man did you mean, Joel?’ you pressed him, and he scoffed, pulling his jeans on and hastily doing up his shirt. He missed a few buttons, and in that moment you didn’t feel like helping him.

‘You know exactly what kind of man,’ he said.

You saw Maria’s tense shoulders when he came into her kitchen, bleeding. You saw her sitting in your kitchen as you held her feet to your chest, explaining how Tommy was different, how he had only wanted to impress his big brother.

Sort of dressed, he was now pacing, the morning light turning his skin a ghostly pale, and you thought for a moment he was haunting you. ‘You know exactly,’ he repeated. ‘Same reason you came running to me the second your friend needed killin’.’

You flinched like he’d slapped you, would have preferred if he had.

‘What kind of man, Joel?’ you asked, and he looked at you, then, tortured for a second before he wiped it away with his hand on his face.

‘A fuckin killer,’ he said, quiet and deathly in the chill of the morning.

You stared at him, heart racing. You were surprised and you also weren’t. You knew what this world demanded of people, the toll you had all paid for survival.

‘Infected?’ you asked, and he sighed, frustrated.

‘Don’t be so fuckin’ naïve,’ he said.

You remembered you were naked, but this was the first time he had really made you feel it, and you held the blanket to your chest, tight.

He wouldn’t look at you, staring instead out the window as Jackson woke.

‘I ain’t a good man,’ he said, quietly, and you shook your head.

‘I don’t believe that,’ you said, and he sneered at you then, picked up your clothes and threw them at you.

‘You don’t know shit about me,’ he said, and then he was gone. You listened as his heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs, the pause as he pulled his boots on, the slam of the door.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction

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itis-obsessesions · 3 months

Text

ANNABELL LEE

Is such a complex and lovely character, I can't. The difference between her thought process and Lenores thought process is beautiful and interesting-

She's a woman who very early in her life understood that she was not in a position of power, just by being a woman. That her life is controlled by a system everybody abides by that will never favor her. That she has to follow the rules of said system or even her family will cast her out as a mad woman, evident by the way they treat her anxiety/panic attacks. Nobody is safe. Nobody can be trusted. To keep safe is to follow the rules-

And the only way to get on top of anything, to gain even a smidge of control is to use the rules to you're advantage.

But this in turn demands of her to turn off care and empathy for others (which she is capable of btw. Annabell Lee is not just some unfeeling monster) Because factoring in how it would affect the other person, caring about another person is a risk factor to herself. And anyway, its not like anybody truly cares about her, right? Its not like there are people out there who would be willing to have empathy for her. They pretend, just as she does because it is polite. Some may even mean it on some level, but not truly. Not wholeheartedly. That's how she sees it.

She's on her own. Her true self is utterly and fully on her own.

Cue Lenore. Lenore started out just the same as any other person Annabell Lee could take advantage of. However, with one additional perk. She was a break. Annabell Lee didn't have to watch herself as closely, not maintain a facade as tightly as usual. Because she is talking to a mad woman. A woman diagnosed with hysteria, a woman shut in in the basement. She has no social power over Annabell Lee. Any accusations or similar can be explained away with her mental illness. So, with time she gets comfortable. Relaxes just a tiny bit. Lenore is pleasant company, sensible and quite smart to talk to.

She, on some level, understands Annabell Lee. And then. Then she cares.

And that is such an unfamiliar feeling. Such a dangerous sentiment. And ridiculous too, for why? Annabell is just taking advantage. Perhaps that's why Lenore is mad, for not quite understanding that. The social games and ladders.

And then the house burns down. And she grieves for a brief friend she had to leave, the first person who really cared.

And then Leo shows up.

Actually taking advantage of the rules, but in such a mad way, it is utterly baffling for her. It is the ultimate proof of care. Lenore cares for Annabell so deeply, it seems, she's willing to give away her life.

And she cracks. Because she desperately craves that. True companionship. True care. True love. And Lenore, wonderful, selfless Lenore, is willing to give her that. Does it with a smile and sacrifice.

So. The only sensible thing to do now. Is to make sure she keeps it. So, she cares back. So fiercely, she's willing to kill for Lenore. So fiercely, that Lenore becomes the only other real person in her life. The only other real person in the whole world.

It feels special. They are the only ones worth fighting for. They are a team, a unit. Annabell Lee truly cares for Lenore because Lenore will always truly care back. And that is worth more to her than a million other lives, that have never known true care even if it stood before them, waving.

Now, imagine the heartbreak when she understands, that Lenore is willing to truly care for others too. She never truly got the fact that Lenore wasn't all alone like her. That Lenore had a brother who truly cared and that Lenore became a madwoman because of said brothers death. She doesn't get it, that real connections do not require sacrifice. It is scary for Annabell that Lenore is willing to give up a lot for people, she perceives will simply not do so back.

Fact is Lenore was Annabells first and only friend. But Annabell is not the first and only friend of Lenores.

Fact is that Annabell thinks the only way to be safe and get ahead is to play by the set up rules. But Lenore doesn't see the sense in doing that if it harms her friends. Lenore would rather rip the system and rules apart than play by them. And that's always been the case.

Even if to Annabell, previously, it didn't look it. Even if Annabell thought they were the same.

And the most heart wrenching thing? Annabell will continue to act like she always has, because she values their relationship too much, values Lenore too much. Because that's how she keeps the things important to her, her life, her love, safe. And it will continue to drive Lenore away, because it requires sacrifice of people Lenore is fond of.

They will only get somewhere healthy when Annabell gains another friend and starts understanding Lenores point of view.

But Annabell is scared of that. It feels unsafe. She might become a madwoman.

So. We are at a cross point. Either Annabell Lee gives in or Annabell Lee loses Lenore.

Which. Fun. Is she gonna give in? Not without a fight, I imagine. It goes against everything she ever build up, against every rule of being she ever set for herself.

It is going to be difficult.

And there will be loss.

I'm so very excited to see it.

#i might have missed some stuff #feel free to add onto my amateur analysis #it was fun tho #annabell lee is just #chefs kiss of writing #pity people hate her #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee x lenore #lenore #lenore vandernacht #lenore nevermore #nevermore #webcomic nevermore #nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic

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mxtantrights · 9 months

Note

Hi. Can you do a Fem! Reader x Batfamilie Soulmates? Where they find the reader hurt and the reader is pretty terrified. Mainly fluff, still insisted that reader should move in and get lessons from them

this turned into a behemoth but here we are! I hope you like it. It was fun to kind of do this all as a one-shot and not worry about plot holes and stuff. as always thanks for sending something in, this was fun to make <3333

You weren't in your right state of mind. How could you be? With a busted lip and slash marks littered all over your body. If that wasn't enough the three miles you ran to get away from danger really took all of your energy.

So when you end up at the front steps of a very lush looking house you collapse completely. If the people chasing you didn't catch you then surely the people who live in the old manor could ask you to run around while they hunt you for sport.

When your eyes shut, there is only one thing on your mind. This is it.

Damian Wayne hears a noise outside while he's walking back to the manor. He shouldn't have been outside anyways, but batcow needed some nurturing with the long day she had. He was walking back when he heard a thud from the front. Usually, he just scales the walls and gets back into his room.

But tonight, he decides to investigate. He keeps a weapon on him at all times, even when he's home. He's thankful for it and places his knife in his hand as he ventures closer to the front door. The thought doesn't cross his mind to call for anyone else. He is fully capable of handling a threat by himself.

When he gets close enough to see the tips of your shoes sprawled on the floor he grunts to himself, ready for fight.

"Get off the floor now!" he shouts.

There is no response, seeing as you're knocked out. He shouts again and you don't move an inch. Damian takes this as hostile behavior and inches closer and closer. It isn't long before he puts together that you are lying on the ground for a reason.

He puts it together when he sees your whole body laid out on the front steps. Damian puts the knife away and rushes over to you. His fingers check your pulse, slow but steady, he then checks your eyes. He doesn't miss the busted lip, or the tiny slashes on your face.

Before he can even begin to get you up, the front door opens. Bruce Wayne in his nighttime attire stands at the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Damian?" he asks.

"I didn't do it." Damian answers.

Bruce looks over at your body and realization dawns on him. The Owl court used to play tricks on people like this before. The scars on your face and all over your body, they were after you.

The older man doesn't hesitate to grab you off the floor, holding you in his arms. He turns to Damian.

"Please get Alfred." he says.

And then Bruce Wayne is bringing you inside. Damian runs in after him and ducks and weaves into the rooms to get Alfred. Bruce carries you all the way to the living room, where he sets you down on the couch. He's concluded that your injuries aren't bad, but the adrenaline crash is what knocked you out.

Alfred and Damian come into the room at once.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asks.

"She'll need stitches. And a change of clothes." Bruce says.

Alfred nods, "Right away, sir."

Damian stands next to his father and watches over you with him. The both of them seem to be looking over you for anything else they might've missed. A tracker? A wire? A camera?

"Father, what if-" Damian starts.

"I know, but first we need her to wake up." Bruce cuts him off.

"We should keep her down in the cave."

"No, she didn't run to the cave. She ran here. If we bring her down there, she'll know who we are." Bruce answers.

Damian nods, "Okay Father, so what do we do now?"

"We wait."

It's a long wait. You sleep a total of thirteen uninterrupted hours. Which isn't unusual for someone in your position. Your body needs rest.

When you do open your eyes, you find yourself on a bed under warm covers. Something is sticking into your arm, and you look over to see what it is. An IV. Your eyes go wide.

Immediately you start to unplug the needle from your arm. Your breathing goes rigid. You pull the covers off you. They found you. They found you and they want to keep torturing you. They want to keep playing their sick games.

You shoot out of bed and look around the room for something, anything to help you out. There is nothing. No knives. No sharp objects. Thats when you realize you weren't tied up.

A knock on the door makes you flinch. You back up so that the bed will be in-between you and the person trying to come inside.

"May I come in?" a gentle voice asks.

You aren't sure how to answer that. You are still unclear if this is a trap. What if you answer wrong? What if this is another game, something new?

You clear your throat, now realizing how scratchy it feels.

"Yes." you answer.

The door opens and reveals a tall young man. He can't be any older than you. He has green eyes and jet black hair, a white streak in it.

"Who are you?" you ask him.

"My name is Jason," he starts.

You notice that he leaves the door open. You can see outside the room. Your first instinct is to run, your feet shift back and forth. But you think against it. With the way the man, Jason, is standing there more than six feet and ready to stop you if need be.

"Do you remember anything about how you came here?" he asks.

You shake your head, "I don't even know where here is."

He smiles, it's soft and it would have gone unnoticed if you weren't trying to gauge who he is.

"This is my childhood home." he says.

"I don't understand, how did I get here?" you ask him now.

Jason crosses his arms against his chest, "We don't know."

"We?" you ask quickly.

Jason puts his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not trying to scare you, it's me and my family in this house. Thats it." he says.

You take a step back, "Are you the ones who did this to me? Please just be honest, I can't do this anymore."

"Woah, we're not the ones who hurt you. I promise." Jason answers.

"And I'm just supposed to take you at your word?" you ask credulously.

"It's all we've got right now, unless you want to give me your name."

That's when it hit you. The people who had you before, they never asked for your name. Never. It was the one thing that unnerved you. They prodded and poked you, twisted your mind and everything in between. But they never asked for your name.

You take a tiny step forward, a bit shaky. You can feel just a small amount of relief in your chest. You tell him your name and he nods. Just as you're about to ask him why he helped you, your eyes roll back, and you can't feel the solid ground beneath you anymore.

"They did a number on her that's for sure." Babs says from the computer.

Dick walks into the cave with a quick step. There surrounding Babs is Jason, Damian, Tim, Steph, Duke and Bruce.

"Sorry I'm late. care to fill me in?" Dick asks.

"Yeah, a girl ran here and blacked out at the front door some time last night. Cuts and bruises, can't remember how it happened." Jason answers.

"Is this a trap?" Dick asks.

"I asked that too, but father doesn't seem to think so." Damian answers.

"It's the owl court." Bruce says.

Dick looks over at Bruce then. The expression clear on his face, this was personal. His eyebrows knitted together and his arms crossed over his chest.

"A long time ago, I lost a case. A young girl, about the same age. The court was using her as leverage against one of the mob bosses. It went on for weeks until..." Bruce trails off.

"I don't get it, why is this happening now?" Dick asks.

"I've never seen her before, but this isn't a coincidence." Bruce answers.

"No the more important question is did she know where she was going?" Tim says.

The group falls into silence. None of them can really answer the question. Not even Jason who just talked to you an hour ago and caught you before you fell on the ground.

Jason pipes up with his own words at the memory.

"She told me her name," he walks closer to the monitor and Babs, "No surname though."

"She can't stay here father. This is dangerous." Damian says.

"I know but I need to speak to her." Bruce replies.

"Can't. She knocked out again. I spoke to her for all of about five minutes." Jason speaks.

"Are you sure?" Tim asks.

"Well seeing as I saw her eyes roll back and her body almost collapse to the floor, I'm pretty sure Tim." Jason sasses.

"I'm just saying, we have a stranger in our house." Tim raises his hands.

"She's not a stranger. She's here for a reason." Bruce puts simply.

Then Bruce is walking out of the cave, leaving all the kids to watch him as he goes. He can't shake the feeling that he's more involved than he knows. Sure you showed up on his front doorstep and looked eerily familiar to an old case. But there is something else that he can't quite place.

Alfred, as he called himself, finishes the last stitch on your back. You wince as he pulls the thread tight to keep the wound from opening. You shake as he cuts the thread and tells you that it's over.

"No it's not. It's really not." you mumble.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asks.

You slowly turn around to look at him, "Once I leave here they'll find me again."

Alfred looks around for a moment and then back at you. He had a face you felt you could trust. You haven't been in the position to trust anyone lately but him, right now in front of you, you knew you could.

"What if I taught you how to defend yourself?" he asks.

You're confused for a moment. The thought of an old butler teaching you how to keep yourself alive wasn't on your mind. Surely, you think to yourself, he doesn't know much about combat and trying to stay alive.

"How will you do that?" you ask.

Alfred smiles, "First we start small."

Alfred reaches into his pocket and pulls out a steak knife. You confusedly look between him and the sharp object. Giving this to you when it hasn't even been proven who you are is an unwise decision for him to make.

As if reading your mind, Alfred walks over to the door.

"Don't make me regret it." he says.

You could hear them talking about you through the door. There were a lot of voices, only one of which you recognized as Jason's. Everyone else wasn't familiar at all.

You lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling.

It's not like you could remember either. If you could you would've told Jason all that you knew so that you could be out of here. But even then, you have a feeling that he and Alfred would have insisted you stayed.

"Just get in there and ask her if she's okay!" Jason shouts.

Then there is some shushing. All of a sudden you can hear the door handle being turned. Your ears didn't pick up on keys, so you weren't locked in this room.

The door opens and you turn your head to see who it is. In comes a man twice you age but still younger than Alfred. When he gets closer you realize that you've seen him before.

"Do-do I know you?" you ask.

He closes the door behind him, "We've never met."

"You look familiar though." you say.

"Maybe you've seen my face in the paper, my name is Bruce Wayne." he answers.

A lightbulb goes off in your head. Bruce Wayne. The orphan. They talked about him once or twice when they had you captured. But it was always in passing, like they couldn't care less about him.

"They talked about you." you say.

"Who?" he asks.

He then takes the chair that sits in the corner and brings it over to your bedside. As he does, you decide to sit up on the bed.

"The people who did this to me." you answer.

"You don't know what they are called?" he asks.

You shake your head, "No they were good at keeping this a secret. Like why they had me there, and who they were."

"Do you have somewhere safe to go?" he asks.

You shake your head once more. The feeling of anxiety washing over you. Yes you would like to be no ones responsibility but you know you're on the run and no one is really looking out for you anyways.

"You may stay here, if you let me help you find out who's hunting you." he says.

And then you're looking at him like he just said the sky is purple. You can't believe he would offer to help you, a random person.

"It's not everyday an unconscious women lands on my doorstep." he pips up.

"I thought this was Jason's house." you say out loud.

"He comes by from time to time, but this is my home." he answers your unspoken question.

"Okay, I'll stay here."

They all watch as you pour yourself a glass of orange juice. It's weird to be watched, but you know it's not in a bad way. You can't really tell which way it is, but you know they won't do to you what the owl court did to you. That's what they were called.

Bruce told you everything a couple of nights ago. How they were torturing you in the same way they tortured another person years ago. It didn't make sense to you why it was happening though, neither did it make sense to Bruce.

But he offered for you to stay at the manor until he could get it cleared up for you.

In the span of a week you have learned a lot. Like how to hold a knife for maximum impact, how to run and not get tired, how to turn common things into a weapon. And that Bruce Wayne is batman.

It came up after you asked him how he knew all of this stuff. You weren't expecting him to up and tell you, but he did. And it made you trust him even more.

As for his kids, they came around fairly quickly. Damian being the last one, even though he was the first one to find you. You heard from the others that he is slow to trust, so the fact that he lets you roam around the manor freely is good.

Steph, Duke and Cass were the first three to be friendly with you outside training. You think it's because they are younger. They are quick to include you in their conversations.

The last three boys are all so different from each other. They teach you defense in different ways. Jason is all about striking first and hard. Tim teaches you when to hit for the best chances. Dick teaches you when to stay down.

"I'm not going to break from pouring a glass of juice." you say.

"We know, we're just looking over you." Dick says.

You turn back, juice in hand, and make a face.

"Don't you do enough of that when you all train me? I'm better than before." you explain.

"You had no training before." Jason says.

"Thanks Jason."

"We just wanna make sure that you know staying here is a choice."

"I know."

You flip Dick over on his back and he lands with a grunt. Everyone in the training room lets out a noise of their own. Bruce and Jason let out winces. Damian claps. Cass and Tim tumble over in laughter. And Duke and Steph instigate the whole thing. Alfred is standing silently, a smile on his face.

"I told you I got better."

"Yeah, I can see that. Feel it too." Dick grunts.

You hold out your hand for him. He takes it and helps himself up with help from you. You smile when he stands on his own two feet.

"I guess you learned from the best"

Jason watches you carefully as you unload then take apart the firearm and then put it together again, and load it. You don't even seem to be phased by the timer he set.

Actually you beat it by four seconds, which is one second better than him. When you finish you look up at Jason.

"How was that?" you ask.

"You beat my record." he answers.

"Woah."

"Yeah, fuckin' woah."

"Can you watch your language? I'm right here." Damian says.

Both of you look at the boy who is standing at the door. You hadn't noticed he even opened the door. You were so in the zone.

"I beat him." you say.

"I know I saw. Could be more efficient though to know when a door is opening." Damian sasses.

"Right."

"Oh shut up, she did good."

Tim shuts the computer screen off. You had just completed a practice off-site hacking of a hard drive. Tim said that you did well for a beginner and even liked how you added your own style to it.

When you walk out the door you see Cass on the top of the steps. She nods for you to follow. You do without another word. The two of you go down the steps and outside. Cass is five steps ahead of you.

In the darkness, you turn around once at the sound of a twig breaking. When you turn back you don't see Cass anymore. You stop walking.

"Cass?"

You feel the need to turn around the other way, facing the door, and when you do you see her. She's waiting at the door, a smile on her face.

"I'm taking it you're gonna teach me about stealth?" you ask.

She nods once.

Damian tells you to meet him in the barn. And you decide to put your new found stealth skills to the test. You don't take the usual way there. You go out a bedroom window. And you scale the wall down to the ground.

Then you duck and weave between trees.

When you arrive at the barn you see Damian inside. You know you can come in thought the roof so you decide to do that. You are as quick as a cat. You scale the barn wall and get up on the roof.

You slowly open the hatch and crawl inside to the attic space. Being sure to not move anything around so that he might catch you. You watch from above as Damian talks to Batcow.

"I hate to say it, but I think I want her to stay." he says.

Your heart feels heavy. You found out not too long ago that he was the first one to find you. It made you sad beyond your years but also really grateful to Damian.

"I just, don't like a lot of people. But I like her." he adds.

You can't come out now. He would know that you were listening and would deny everything he said. You don't want to embarrass him either.

"She should learn some time management though, she's very late. Doesn't she know your bed time is in twenty minutes?" he says.

Then he's walking out of the barn, not doubt to find you. You wait until he's out of the barn to descend to the bottom level. When you do Batcow turns around to look at you.

"Maybe I will stay."

#dc #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam imagine #batfam fic #Bruce wayne x reader #Damian wayne x reader #Jason todd x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #Tim drake x reader

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lewkwoodnco · 6 months

Text

tis the damn season - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: estranged best friends to lovers trope my beloved!!! 😍 AHHH this is one of my fav fics I've written in a while. Poem below is Golden Boy by Cecil Miller, and the Spanish line is taken from a streetcar named desire by tennessee (idk how 2 spell) williams! this might be less proofread than normal + includes a few of my pre-infection hallucinations? lottt of angst, wc 5.1k!!

P.S. I think I'll be doing a part 2 to buy me presents! but not until a little later ahah and also the 12 days of fics are totally going to spill over hahah

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lockwood stares out the kitchen window. Both inside and outside, there is a bleak stillness in the air that sinks in his bones like a plague. It's too cold and too early in the morning for anyone to be properly out and about. But the season always messed up his sleep schedule more than usual, and now that they had taken a break from their cases for the holidays, there was nothing to occupy his treacherous mind, and its return to taut requirings of Christmases past.

Slowly, the other residents of Portland Row start to stir. George grumbles about their spluttering heating system and having to plod through the snow to get the mail, and Lucy promptly falls asleep in the cup of tea she's just brewed for herself. They were all exhausted, and rightfully so, given that the holidays was prime time for people to start looking into properly clearing out ghosts to keep their homes warm and cheery.

He slips out just as George's complaints about the heater start ramping up, and his mind is so scattered that he forgets to put his coat on. It's a little more brisk than what was completely tolerable, strictly speaking, but it was only just for a minute. When he reaches the mailbox, he runs into Mr. and Mrs. L/N, old family friends who had helped him more than he deserved over the years. They made some polite conversation while he rifled through the bills and letters.

"Oh, Anthony, we wanted to invite you over to tea sometime this week. Y/N's home for the holidays."

His hand slips and an envelope slices his finger open. It was bound to happen, given his glum and careless mood, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to suppress his cry of pain in front of them.

"Home...as in here? London?"

Ever since she had left for boarding school, there would always be some talk of her dropping by for Christmas every year. But the plans would never be fully solid, or some other pre-existing commitment would prevent her from making the trip. He was suddenly feeling oddly claustrophobic. He glanced up and down the street, as if expecting her to be hiding in some bushes.

Mrs. L/N seemed to pick up on his distraction, and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Of course London. Where's your coat, dearie? Aren't you feeling chilly?"

"...yes. Now that you mention it...perhaps it's best I head back inside."

He gave a stiff sort of wave and walked back, mind reeling. Eight years. Eight years since he last saw her. What the hell was he supposed to do if he saw her now? How was he supposed to feel?

Luckily, he doesn't get much time to panic because as soon as he walks in, he narrowly dodges a wrench being lobbed at his head. Apparently, eleven freezing days with improper heating was more than what George could bear. It's usually a rather quick fix, but maybe the comparatively more extreme frost this year had corrupted the system beyond Lockwood's capabilities, because two hours later he was still no closer to getting it fixed.

Some time later, there's a knock on the door. He yells for someone to get the door, but he's buried too deeply in the house for anyone to hear him. Grumbling, he dusts himself off and walks to the door himself, head buzzing with frustration. He's so preoccupied with what more he could possibly do to get the heating working again that he doesn't think to check the peephole first. So when he opens the door, he gets the wind knocked out of him.

"Anthony."

It was her; rosy-cheeked yet looking effortlessly warm. Her facial features had lengthened and rearranged themselves as compared to when he last saw her, but there was still something expensive to the twist of her mouth and the crinkles near her eyes.

"It's been so long."

Even her voice was rich, like honey. Now that she was standing in front of him, the stitch in his chest from the morning seemed much more familiar. It had been some seasonally grievious paste that had coated his lungs and stoppered his mouth that made him feel eerily weightless if he dwelled on it too much.

He didn't know what to do. Exchange pleasantries, or skip to the part where he slams the door in her face? Before he could decide, he hears some shuffling behind him, and almost instinctively opens the door wider.

"Y/N. These are my associates. George Karim, Lucy Carlyle...Y/N L/N."

"Right. Lockwood and Co., was it?"

The four of them glance at each other, exchanging fleeting smiles for a good half-minute, before George has the sense to usher everyone inside for a cup of tea.

The kettle's already on, and George hands out the cups of tea waring mittens, his glasses barely visible behind the scarf mummifying the lower half of his head. If she notices the cold in the house, she doesn't comment on it.

They make some polite small talk. She's pleasantly amiable and a perfectly gracious guest, and talks about her Christmas dinner plans. Lockwood is disinterested and surly and wants to talk about his fragmented sense of self. At one point, his responses start to become so clipped that he earns a poorly concealed kick from Lucy, accompanied by a stern look. Luckily, it doesn't seem as if she's noticed. She was looking at the white blanket of snow over their garden carefully, as if dismissing their presence.

"Your garden looks beautiful. I'd love to have a look around."

George and Lockwood exchanged a look. It was freezing outside, and the harsh temperatures were clearly not worth braving for the little of the flowerbeds they could see. George opened his mouth to tell her as much, in his own snide way, but he hesitated. Lockwood felt his heart sink.

The thing was, she had had a magnetic effect on most people ever since they were kids, a quality that made it difficult for any grown adult to refuse her or for any child to oppose her. It was the same reason why she was sitting in his house, drinking out of his teacups, eating his share of biscuits (George and Lucy had clearly conspired as soon as they picked up on her staying for tea). But he had been sure that if there was anyone who could pull away from this siren call of hers, it would be George. The very boy who was meaningfully looking at him, trying to express some uncommunicable panic.

"Er...Lockwood?"

And so, he ended up taking her out for a brief and awkwardly quiet stroll in their garden once she was done with her tea. They meandered through the garden path stiltedly, and every snow-dusted weed and sapling seemed to astound her. Still, she divided her attention sufficiently to continue the ocnversation.

"Homeowner and agency head at fifteen. Impressive."

"Thank you."

"I bet you're the media's darling."

He shrugs.

She turns to him, eyes generously pooling with faux concern.

"It can't have been easy."

It wasn't easy, not that she would know anything about it. He wants to be spiteful towards her, lash out at her. God knows she deserved it. But something holds him back.

"So...that was George. And Luce."

She jerked her head back in acknowledgement, but he could see the slight smile playing at her lips as she did so. He had forgotten how terribly exasperating she could be.

"What?"

She shook her head, but that only made her smile grow wider, and so she finally relented. There's a vulpine twist to her lips that Lockwood has no patience for. "Nothing. I'm sure they're lovely people, of course. But if I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you."

He shrugged. "I wanted to share a bit of my life now. They're just about all of it."

She hums pleasantly, stopping short in front of one of the flower beds. She bends down and picks up a freshly fallen violet, its deep indigo harsh and unrelenting against the fresh, pure snow, against the season of vacancy and death. She holds it up in front of Lockwood.

"Viola Odarata. Symbolises humility. Flores; flores para los muertos. Flores."

A part of him wants to sneer at her in painful irony. How arrogant of her to think she could waltz back into his life as she pleased.

"That what they teach you in your boarding school? Useless facts about violets?"

She shivers, even though the air is completely still with no breeze, and her lips part. Too late, he realises he's gone too far. Her smile slips a fraction, and she takes on an air that makes him feel obliged to apologise. He resists it, and for a moment he sees something flash in her eyes, but it's gone before he can place it.

"Forgive me, but you don't seem terribly happy."

"The Problem's raging worse than ever. Happy things don't come by easy these days."

"...I suppose. It wouldn't -" For the first time, Lockwood thinks she might be feeling nervous. Her humanity, manufactured or otherwise, draws him in despite himself. "It wouldn't have anything to do with me...would it?"

He takes in her carefully manicured appearance, her intentionally pieced together life made up of the dreams she worked towards and achieved. And all he had was a house that was more of a burden than a blessing on some days and this inchoate dread over a Problem whose end was nowhere in sight. But he doesn't know how to express this resentment, this jealousy.

"I'm alright if you're alright."

Sad, dispirited eyes look into each other, searching for the fulfilment they're sure the other has found. She speaks in a tight voice.

"It's okay with the both of us, then."

She suddenly reaches out, and gently holds his finger with the papercut with a firm but comforting pressure. His first instinct is to pull his hand back, but he doesn't, and as the long seconds pass, he feels increasingly vulnerable. The cut was no longer bleeding, and was even well on its way to healing over just fine, but it was irritated from where he had relentlessly picked at it.

"Looks fresh."

She traces the cut with her other hand, violet folded in her palm, with a feather-light touch. The surreality of the moment - of her standing inches from her, her breath tickling his fingertips, her warmth spreading through him - catches up to him and makes his breath hitch. It was unbearably intimate and made him feel like the exposed, raw wound he had been nursing for the eight years she had been gone. And how like her to return with pockets full of unfounded promise to stitch the tears in his skin.

And just as quickly, she lets go of his hand and steps back, and Lockwood feels as though cold air has been forced into his airways. She tucks the violet behind her ear, and drifts back inside. The tilt of her joints is so familiar that it stirs something in him. Something long gone, something he was gripping like a fist.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they return, Lockwood excuses himself to his room for a bit of air, ignoring how closely George is watching him. He sits on his bed and takes a deep breath. His nightstand has a few miniature picture frames on it, and in one of them the picture's been flipped around. It's a picture of him and her, taken a few months before she left. It's how he remembered her before seeing her today. Sometimes, when the urge grew too great, he would tilt the frame under his nightlight, and make out the barest outline of their figures looped together on the other side of photograph.

He didn't know what to make of her departure, all those years ago. One day, they were swinging on tyres in her parents' garden, and the next day, she wasn't at school. But as the years churned on, the string tying his heart to hers stretched and tore a slow and painful death from him, out of the cavity she left, and he never felt quite the same again. And as they continued to age, the wound became old news and scabbed over what was once raw and paralysing, but a part of him always wanted to know why she did it, to be angry with her for being so callous.

And now she was back, pulling him under by the ankles, ripping the gash open viciously.

He didn't know how exactly to deal with it, after years of thinking of her adjacently, daring only to keep her in his peripheral vision, where he was kept safe. Maybe it was all part of a larger problem; the twitch in his hand and his recurring nightmare.

He's ten years old again, at a train station he's never been to, and likely one that doesn't exist. It's hard to see just about any discerning features, except for the massive train peeking through the fog in front of him. He looks to the right, and sees her strong fingers wrapped around a railing, her standing in the door of the train. He can't be sure of much, but he's certain she's looking at him. He stretches the moment as long as it will last, because it's all downhill from there.

There's a terrible groaning sound, and the train reluctantly starts to chug along, steadily gathering speed. He walks alongside it, gradually picking up his own pace, until he's nearly sprinting. All the while, she watches him with amused eyes, secure in her place on the train. He's panting, choking on the fog, eyes streaming. But if he can just reach her scarf whipping in the wind, the train will stop, and she'll step out, cool and gleaming and impervious to the cloud of dust surrounding her and-

He wakes with a start. He knows how it ends.

She slips through his fingers every time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She stays for the rest of the day, and the four of them spend a cosy afternoon decorating their Christmas tree, carefully dodging the random mugs of hot chocolate littered across the room. While they were digging out the ornaments from the attic, she finds a box that he, evidently, had not tucked away deep enough.

"Remember these?" She holds up a flimsy, crumbling Santa Claus ornament made of construction paper. "We had so much fun making them."

He nods stiffly, subtly shifting the box towards a corner in the living room. It smarts his eyes to look at the hideous thing, as if its very sight was corrosive.

"Took me a while to find them, though. It must be a pain to dig them out every year."

He puts down the bauble he's hanging, and sighs. "I haven't...brought these out in a while."

Even her look of perplexity looks artificial. "Why not? Aren't there so many happy memories attached to these?" Her face falls ever so slightly. "Do memories of me not make you happy?"

Luckily, they're interrupted by Lucy placing a handful of miniature marshmallows into their hot chocolate. When she moves over to George, Lockwood wordlessly starts hanging their crafted ornaments, and she doesn't press him for an answer. When they're done, the tree looks a lot more crowded and chaotic than it normally does, similar to how Lockwood was feeling with her around. He looks at her, and isn't sure how he feels about the asymmetry of having her here.

Later, when she's about to leave, it starts snowing heavily, too heavily for her to walk home. So after a phone call with her parents, she decides to spend the night. Lockwood's in his bedroom when he hears a knock on his door. It's her, dressed in a spare set of Lucy's pajamas.

"I thought you'd be awake."

She wanted to know what he was doing, and what he was doing was wrapping some Christmas presents. Immediately, she obligingly offered to help, and she was too eager for him to outright refuse. Of course, he might have thought differently if he had known how abysmally little she knew about wrapping gifts. And so they stay up till the early hours of the morning, both of them trying equally hard to teach her the most basic of gift wrapping skills. As the night wore on, they got increasingly drunk on laughter over her heinously criminal attempts and Lockwood's limbs started to loosen up. At one point, he had given up entirely and placed his hands over hers, puppeteering the night's only decent gift wrapping while she smothered her laughter.

He doesn't remember much after that. When he next regains his consciousness, he's lying curled up next to her, with the late morning sun streaming through his windows. He watches her breathe, slow and steady, with a face so relaxed, amiable and familiar.

As her eyes start to flutter open, he panics and tries to look anywhere else, which isn't easy given how she's only inches away from him. They glance at each other, silently acknowledging their positions, and the silence hangs heavy in the air. He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to put as much space between them as he can with his arm wrapped under her. "When do you leave?"

She scrunches her forehead as she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her he instantly recognises and he gets caught off guard by a rush of affection, and a flash of an impulse to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Monday."

He pulls a face.

"We'd have the weekend together. Isn't that enough?"

They stay quiet, watching specks of dust float through the sunlight filtering through his partially drawn curtains. With how close they are to each other, they're not looking at each other's face, and it's unclear if she's asking him, or herself, or the dust they're watching. Was it enough?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, Lucy wants to take a walk along some of the emptier roads in the snow. She takes their trip as her cue to leave but Lucy insists she come along, so she does. The four of them had cycled as far as they could, and when they reached the too-slippery parts of the road, they had dismounted and left their bicycles in a corner. Lucy and George were wandering around a bit ahead of them, while they slowly shuffled through the snow. She had picked up some newspapers on their way there, and was looking through them as they walked, taking particular interest in the odd article on Lockwood & Co.

"You've certainly had your fair share of media coverage."

"Along with a decent helping of frenzied media sensationalism, I suppose."

"My apologies. I forgot I was talking to the Anthony J. Lockwood of Lockwood & Co. Now, is the arson bit complimentary, or would I have to pay extra?"

She was teasing him, and it was irritating. There was a reticent air about him and after some politely delicate probing, which he had been too preoccupied to entertain, she had resorted to amusing herself. Toying with him like a figurine, the way she did all those years ago.

"You wear your grief so beautifully, Lockwood. Like...like jewels between your teeth..."

She pauses, flipping through the newspapers interestedly with inky fingertips, which flickered like shadows next to the soft white snow.

"...and you have such a winning smile. Golden boy." She laughs, and the sound feels like icicles pressing into his skull. "Golden boy," she trills, "you were a bit of a child. The world was having its way with you. You tried to...er, something...golden boy!"

She smiles at him lazily, expectantly, as if anticipating some kind of applause. But Lockwood is in no mood for her childish whimsies.

"I'm fine. I don't have any grief."

She frowns exaggeratedly. "'Course you do."

"I don't."

She mumbles, turning back to her newspaper. "Fine, then. Not like I'm the one holding onto...some kind of...ache."

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. How could anyone be this self-aware and yet completely oblivious? The strain on his self-restraint peaks and he buckles within himself.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

She looks away from the snow. "Lucy said it'd be nice out here."

"No. I mean why are you here, in London? Here, at Portland Row?"

Her lips are pressed together, and there's something guarded in her eyes.

"I just...wanted to see how you were doing."

"Liar."

The word drops from his tongue in such an aggrieved manner with such vehemence that it makes her choke.

"How could you say something like that?"

He scoffs. "Please, let's not pretend you weren't dying to leave at the first chance. Not that you had the decency to tell me-"

"-I was ten!-"

"- having me go through the humiliating process of finding out on my own-"

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? I'm sorry I left? I'm sorry you were alone? I'm sorry I was too selfish to give a damn about you?"

"-and you'll come back, choking on your silver spoon only to leave again and again and again until you're all alone-"

"You never wrote!"

"I didn't think you'd want me to!"

"I didn't know what I wanted!"

"Then what do you want?"

"YOU, you idiot!"

He stares at her, speechless.

"I was ten. And I was so foolish. How could I have thought of anything but you?"

With that, the last of her rosy, polished, alluring boarding-school airs fell apart. He looks at her and sees his own anger and yearning reflected back at him; anger and yearning he's hardly ready to face. Despite all their efforts to get away from the other, to move on, something between them held fast. Or perhaps it was that they were hopelessly, irrevocably intertwined.

"Of all the roads I could have travelled, you are at the end of every single one of them. Every single one of them, except the road I did travel. I'm here, Lockwood, because I thought I might have...I might have chosen wrong."

"So you think you can just stroll back now that it's convenient for you? I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, do you realise that?"

"What do you want me to do, Lockwood? You keep pushing me away. I feel like part of a past you're forever trying to run away from. So fine! I'll leave, then. I'll go back to the sorry hole I crawled out of, back to friends I don't care about, back to dreaming of the only person who's ever truly cared about me. Is that what you want?"

She doesn't wait for a response, and turns around and walks away from him.

"Y/N, come back."

She silently picks her bicycle out of the snow, dusting it off.

"You can't cycle in this."

Still ignoring his words ringing through the dead winter silence, she steadies herself and cautiously swings a leg over her bicycle. Lockwood starts to walk towards her.

"You'll fall. You'll hurt yourself. Y/N. Y/N!"

But she's already off, gliding soundlessly like a ghost through frigid air on icy roads.

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He's already regretting his words by the time he reaches 35 Portland Row. When he first walks in, the house is so deathly quiet that he's convinced she's left. But her bicycle is thrown down in the garden and he knows she's too averse to the cold to walk home in the snow.

He walks slowly, his measure footsteps echoing on the wooden floors of the house, and he eventually finds her in the living room, sitting with her back to the door, staring at the drawn curtains. The fading evening glow spilling through the edges is streaked across her face and there's a soft crunching sound. As he comes closer, he sees the bowl of ice glinting in her lap, like fractured light, with her face as blank as a canvas.

"Have you gone completely mad? You'll fall sick."

She doesn't even flinch, as if she hadn't heard him. When she speaks, there's a dreamy quality to her typically strong and clear voice.

"I didn't want to come back. This city is nothing I want. I was always going to escape some day. And yet..." she trails off with glazed eyes, as if trying to look through some distant fog. "...and yet."

"You were right." The run back had left him mildly breathless, but was also exactly what he needed to get rid of the buzz in his head, giving way to some much-needed clarity. "About the...heartache. I was just sick of it. You're miles away. I love you in your sleep. I still reach the end of road alone. But I loved you all the while and...somehow that made the pain of leaving you worth it."

"I'm restless. I'm lost. I'm selfish." She swivels her head with an unnerving smoothness, grin wide and grotesque, ice glinting between her perfect teeth. "I'm so alone, Lockwood. Just like you said."

He doesn't know what to say. He walks towards her and picks up her bowl but her fingers close around his wrist like a vice. The gleam in her eye makes him want to pull his hand back. He's too old to play her games and lose.

"That's a bad habit."

"I'm a bad habit. One you can't seem to kick even after all these years: tell me, Anthony, why is that?"

"Y/N, stop. You'll spoil your teeth."

It only makes her grind her teeth even more tauntingly. It's an awful sound. "Good. Let them fall out, one by one. It's what I deserve. Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson."

Her grip on his sleeve lessens, but she doesn't let go. She grips the bowl with her other hand even tighter, as if suddenly terrified.

"Leave me be, Anthony. Leave me...to my vices...and violets and...violence."

He reads her face. He tries to figure her out, to read her like the open book she once was to him. When he doesn't leave, she shovels more ice into her mouth, uncomfortably clacking with her teeth, and continues.

"I was racing ahead...into some glorious sunset, towards some fantastic rainbow, at the end of which was some miraculous snowdrop and a wish to soothe my nomadic soul. I didn't have time for the boy with the sad eyes two streets down from me."

"I convinced myself that you resented my escape from the Problem. I was 15 with the bitter taste of lemongrass in my mouth and a stitch in my chest when I realised I spent all those years missing you. I couldn't run away from it, not truly. So I pretend. I pretend you don't hate me and I pretend I'm not an awful person and I pretend there's a chance you'd want me as much as I want you. I came home to tell you how terribly fond I was of you. It was only at your doorstep that I realised I had run out of places to hide."

"I don't have time for love. Nor the capacity for it. But I am tired of trying to outrun it."

She closed her eyes. Her voice was barely a croak. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. If I could...I'd wish away the past eight years of misery." She opened her eyes. "Some nights, I can pretend they never existed. But I can't wish your happiness into existence."

Lockwood somehow finds his voice. "I thought this was the life you wanted."

"It is Christmas, once again, and my heart is lonely as an island...once again. What part of this could I possibly want?"

He lets go of the bowl of ice and covers her limp, frozen hand with his own. She speaks in a low voice, barely stirring the dust in the room.

"I'll never forgive myself."

He sits down next to her, his feather-light lips pressed to her temple. She feels drained, and exhausted, as if the spirit that had driven her for so long was finally fatigued. Her breathing was uneven and her lungs felt lopsided. But what a blessing it was to finally fall in the one place she knew her landing would be soft.

"One day. One day, I'll..."

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He pulls out a fresh violet from his coat, still damp from the morning dew.

"Call it even?"

She accepts the flower and gives him a sweet smile. He revels in this smallest of victories.

Their peaceful moment gets shattered by the deafening train horn, which unpleasantly reminds Lockwood of where they are.

She hesitates for a moment, but then extends her arm and holds his face. There's a troubled look on her face, like there's something indescribable she wished to communicate just at the tip of her tongue. But the compulsion passes, and she settles for a trembling brush of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"You're such a darling, Anthony. I don't care what any newspaper or lawsuit has to say about you. You'll always be a darling to me."

"Good, because soon enough you might just be the only one."

She grins, widely at first, but then it chips, and for once he can admit that the sight breaks his heart. She gives him a hug, and he holds her like she's one of the precious metals that adorn her jewellery.

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps. See you another weekend."

When they break apart, she swiftly picks up her suitcase with white knuckles and marches to the carriage without looking back. The train horn blares for a final time. The doors shut, and the wheels groan to life. He searches for her face, and finds it, but the reflection of the train station lights hides her eyes. It's at this moment that a disconnected part of him realises he doesn't want to wait for another weekend. He wants her here, and he wants her now.

The train picks up speed, and Lockwood tries to match it. But he's not trying to run. He knows that won't work, it never does.

"Y/N!"

That gets the attention of most passengers, including her. This train accelerates much faster than in his dream, and he's got an awful stitch running down the side of his torso by now, but he's beyond caring at this point. When she sees that it's him yelling like a maniac, she presses her flushed face to the window, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Would you stay?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @ahead-fullofdreams

#taylor swift #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood imagine #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #tis the damn season #evermore #12 days of fics '23

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astroismypassion · 2 years

Text

Astrology observations 💛💛💛

Credit goes to blog @astroismypassion

💛💛 Aries Sun and Moon people often feel like they are responsible for their own happiness even much more than other signs.

💙💙 You can feel sexual attraction to someone with the same Sun, Venus or Rising as your Vesta sign. Because they reflect back to you the traits you might not fully acknowledge that they are present within you, but you start glowing around them.

💛💛 However, you might overdo things with your Vesta sign and its themes. For example: if you have Cancer Vesta/Vesta in the 4th house you might burn yourself out if you spend too much time with your family, helping them too much or even if you try to nurture someone too much.

💙💙 I find it funny that most of the time an excuse a Cancer Moon will say is that they are hungry when they are having a mood. 😂 They just try to cover up their current mood and feelings by saying they are hungry.

💛💛 Planet in the 12th house and sign over the 12th house literally show what you put on your feet, so which shoes you like to wear. For example if you have Aquarius over the 12th house, you might enjoy to wear Balenciaga dad sneakers or if you have Cancer over your 12th house you might still enjoy wearing shoes that usually teenagers might wear well into adulthood, like Converse shoes or you are really accustomed to shoes you wore when younger, so you keep buying the same shoe type or brand.

💙💙 If you have Gemini or Virgo over the 7th house you dislike being called “infantile” names when in a romantic relationship, like “baby boy” or “baby girl”, “baby doll” etc., you dislike when they try to call you a boy, girl even angel.

💛💛 Really beware of accepting help (especially materially) from Capricorn Moon, like them buying you food, clothes or any item really. Because you become IN DEBT to them and they will make sure that you repay them somehow. They might do it in a “behind, backward” manner though, because they care too much for being respectful. So they won’t do it in a straight-forward manner, but rather pretend that they forgot their wallet or something similar.

💙💙 Aries Ascendant with Libra Descendant were usually really single or celibate for longer period of time, so when they start dating more, they might like to entertain multiple options just because they feel validated by attention and that they are finally desired by not just one, but many. It’s like they feel they need to make up for the lost time. I’m not saying this is all Aries Ascendant, because it really depends on aspects and of course the maturity of your person.

💛💛 If a man has Virgo Moon or Venus, things can get tricky. They like the fact that their woman is capable if handling a conversation about them about various interesting topics. However, they prefer that this same woman doesn’t talk much when they are out in the public, at a social gathering, with friends. They really get second-hand embarrassment easily or fear getting judged, because of something their partner said.

💙💙 If you are Scorpio IC, be mindful of trauma bond partnerships!

💛💛 Moon sign of an actor/actress reveal what kind of role they play in a film. An actor with Capricorn Moon might play a young man that has a relationship with much older woman. Actress with Pisces Moon might often play in romantic drama, like a princess for a day or lend her voice to a character in an animated movie.

💙💙 If you have Libra Chiron you might rush into a romantic partnership. And if you have Aquarius Chiron you might rush friendships by establishing a fake sense of closeness by revealing intimate details. Learn how to enjoy in your own company too!

💛💛 If you have Scorpio or Pisces over your 4th house you were most likely gaslighted when younger, especially by parents and adults. They would pretend that there was nothing to worry about and that things were fine and as usual, but you could sense the tension and distance anyway. So later in your adult years, people in your closest circle, your partner and close friend might often try to cover up their real emotions around you or often try to brush it off like everything is fine.

💙💙 When in a romantic relationship, look more into North Node and South Node in Davidson chart. Even it is already over, look at what you both had to learn through the connection. South Node sign shows the roles that you feel comfortable in and it feel “natural” to take those roles when you are starting the relationship. Like Libra South Node would mean you feel natural to be in marriage. North Node shows what you need or needed to learn, so with Aries North Node you actually needed to learn individuality.

💛💛 This might not be as much astrology, but knowing Moon cycles really helps with productivity levels and what to focus on in a day. Moon is currently in Pisces? Drink more tea, go on a walk near a body of water, take longer showers, watch TV series/a movie and have alone time etc. Moon is in Capricorn? Try calling your parents, spend time with inspiring mentors, figures that you look up to career-wise or because they achieve a goal you wanted. Moon is currently in Libra? Visit a restaurant you haven’t before, socialize around a group of friends etc.

💙💙 Often times people with Libra Chiron or Chiron in the 7th house, have Saturn/Pluto in the 7th house or Libra Saturn also, so your biggest lesson throughout life will be how to be your own soulmate. 😃

💛💛 If you have Neptune in the 2nd house you might like doing things anonymous. So you donate anonymous, do your talents in an anonymous way, like writing a book without using your birth name.

💙💙 It’s very hard for Capricorn Moon and Aries Moon to voice their emotions when they’ve been rejected or their emotions were invalidated. Even if you ask them for the 3rd time “What is wrong?” they won’t tell you, because now they just shut down. And sulking could be their defensive mechanism. Similar happens with Cancer Moons when someone invalidates their feelings, but they give silent treatment.

💛💛 I noticed Scorpio Sun, Moon, Rising and Venus usually had a “fuckboy” phrase at someone point in their life and at that time they had poor sense of self-control. But at some point they do a complete turn and become much more spiritual/enlightened and have better self-control. So they often go from “fuckboy stage” straight to marriage.

💙💙 Not Scorpio Mars or Mars Pluto aspects though😅 I think you always have to be on your toes a little around them, because they can be incredibly mischievous. They are usually always somewhere in between incredible self-control/ethic and pure chaos/disorder throughout life. You just enjoy a little bit of chaos admit it. 😂

💛💛 You have Virgo MC your will offer service to create things basically. Like have your own Etsy shop with mugs. You will combine a creative passion with selling products/ideas.

💙💙 If you have North Node in the 10th house, you strive to be successful in your career, however this NN leads you to reject the public eye or you don’t want public recognition or even fame.

💛💛 People in my mailbox asked me to elaborate on why I wrote about Aries Moons often being more prone to get gaslighted. Because Mars is connected with how you process emotions. Whenever you express directly, honestly and in a straight-forward manner your feelings, people feel Mars energy coming from you, so they feel attacked or defensive when you choose to express yourself emotionally. And they think they need to take action.

💙💙 If you have Pisces or Neptune over the 3rd house you leave nearby a hospital. If you have Jupiter over the 3rd house might leave near an international school.

💛💛 Pisces IC is interesting. In the fact that we have Pisces over a Moon ruled house. You know how Cancers are known to be emphatic? Pisces IC I believe is two times more. They constantly struggle with overwhelming feelings. Because they become overwhelmed with emotions by being in so many emotional situations throughout the day that they feel desensitized at the end of the day. They are constantly asked to tap into their compassion for OTHERS throughout the day. That they either “run out” of compassion for the day or don’t feel any empathy for themselves, which leads to them being totally zoned out at home. And that’s why Pisces IC either 1. live alone or 2. desire that strong emotional support system from their family, a loved one when they get back home. Because they have shows so much compassion and emotional support for those in their career, that when they go home they want someone at home to do it for them.

💙💙 If you have Sun in the 12th house or Pisces Mars you might work at a hotel or resort at some point in life.

💛💛 Pisces IC/Neptune in the 4th house/Pisces over the 4th house have troubles admitting their wrong or taking accountability, because they are not judgemental at all. They are so accepting, compassionate and non-judgemental to those around you, that when they do something that they should take accountability or the blame for, they often don’t do that.

💙💙 You know how some cities are connected with signs in astrology? Similarly the house Sun is in, might show the city you live in. Sun in the 12th house might live in a multicultural city. Sun in the 4th house may live near vineyards.

💛💛 Pisces IC might desire a big family (even an extended one) or a lot of children (even adopted) or not have a family at all and live on their own.

Credit goes to blog @astroismypassion

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