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romanarose · 2 months

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Scars

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x pale!fem!reader (see immersivity warnings)

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Summary: You and Joel are taking things slow, really slow. You find that he's easy to open up to about your depression, but you find it's hard to tell him the full extent.

Warnings: Talk of depression and self harm, self harm scars, descriptions of said scars (healed, not bleeding or recent) piv sex, oral f!recieving. Comfort sex. first time between couple, not loss of virginity.

Immersivity: Reader is fem, no specified age. This is a fic i started last year when i was doing very, very poorly and relapsing. I wanted to write something for myself. I usually really try to make things as inclusive as I can but the descriptions of scars are detailed and they are detailed to my skin, which is pale. I'm sorry, but I wanted to write this for myself. I support people writing fics specific to themselves, their skin tone, their hair type, their wieght etc, as long as it's labled right. @fandxmslxt69 said i could do it and said if anyone has a problem, come to her <3

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"And the scars remind us that the past is real" Scars, Papa Roach

Joel hadn’t minded when you said you wanted to take things slow. He didn’t mind one bit. Being a dad of a preteen , albeit an easy one, didn’t leave him with much opportunity to move fast. He was busy. In fact, he hadn’t really intended to date at all, at least until Sarah was in college if that… but you had sparkled your way into his life accidentally, and he was trying his best to balance it all. You were understanding, patient, you didn't get mad if he had to rearrange plans or cancel because something with Sarah or work came up, and he thought things were going well. You were beautiful, fun, and the few times you’d briefly met Sarah, she seemed to like you. That was a necessity. Joel absolutely refuses to date someone that made Sarah unhappy, but Sarah had made a few references to him and dating before he met you anyway, so she seemed okay with it. It wasn’t like he had a relationship with her mom, as much as Joel had tried to foster something… her mom hadn’t been interested.

Tommy was a lifesaver. When he noticed Joel had been struggling, Tommy sat him down and asked to help him. Tommy asked Joel.

“You deserve a life.” Tommy had insisted.

“Sarah is my life.”

“Joel, you deserve m-”

“Don’t say I deserve more, Tommy. Sarah is enough. I don’t need more.”

Tommy sighed. “I know, brother, but can I at least help you out a bit? Give you a little free time to see that pretty girl of yours?”

Tommy had only met you once, but he liked you too. Joel acquiesced, letting Tommy take care of taking her to soccer practices (but he would NOT miss a game). This did end up being a big help and Joel had more and more time to see you… and when Tommy took Sarah out for a movie or she had plans with friends, he found more and more time alone in the evening with you.

Joel didn’t want to take his hands off your body the first time you and him made out on his couch, but when his hand went to feel up your breasts, you noticeably tensed. Fearing he overstepped, Joel quickly pulled back and apologized. Both of you nervous messes, it took a moment before you and Joel got full sentences out.

“Shit, I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s okay!”

“I just thought-”

“And I want too-!”

“No, I didn’t mean for anything tonight-”

“Oh, uh, right-”

“Not that I don’t want to!”

“Me too!”

Eventually, Joel clarified he was just enjoying feeling you, he didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything ‘like that’, and you explained he can touch you like that, you just wanted to wait a little bit… You sat back, nervous, but figured now was as good a time as any.

“Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, if we could…” You shuffle on the couch.

Joel looks nervous, but open. He wants to know you, good and bad, and if something was bothering you, he wanted to know. “Of course, I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath. “Do you know what depression is?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I have an aunt with it but we don’t really talk about it much… Sometimes Sarah’s school sends her home with pamphlets… so I know a little, I guess.” That’s not what he was expecting.

“Well… I have it.”

“Oh.” He says again, dumbly. “I'm sorry. Or… am I not supposed to say that?”

You can’t help laughing a little. He was sweet, and he was trying. “It’s okay, Joel, and thank you. Well, about 6 months ago I started therapy and started taking an antidepressant, and things have been a lot better but… I need you to understand, things can get really dark for me sometimes and… it can be a lot for other people to deal with. I promise, it’s nothing dangerous to others!” You quickly add when you see his confused face. “It’s just, sometimes I’m not myself… and, if that’s not something you can handle, I want you to know that’s okay.”

Joel sat there for a moment, looking at you. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what depression was… but in the South, it wasn’t like they talked about that sort of thing much. Still, he liked you… he liked you a lot, actually, and he wanted to be there to support you. He couldn’t just run away from difficult times, not when he had a preteen. It would mean he wasn’t fit to be there for Sarah…

“I wanna be there for you.” Joel assured you, to your growing smile. “I may not know how to, but I wanna try my best.”

You smile more, and scoot up next to him, in turn Joel lays an arm around you. “Thank you, Joel”

Still, you were nervous… because Joel hasn’t seen you without sleeves… nonetheless without clothes.

In the end, it was almost 4 months before you had sex. Physically, you’d taken things slow, but emotionally you hadn’t at all. You were in love, and you’d both told each other as much. Tommy had given Joel shit for committing to a girlfriend without having sex, but Joel had told Tommy he could talk after he got an actual girlfriend, not hookups. Still, Tommy wanted to provide a good opportunity for Joel to fuck you the way Joel would want to. Sappy and romantic. So, when Sarah’s favorite band Halican Drops was coming to Housten, Tommy offered to pay for them to go and for a hotel.

Joel had tried to protest, saying it was too expensive, saying he wasn’t sure he wanted Sarah that far away, and that he should just come, but Tommy smacked him on the head.

“Dumbass, I’m giving you a night with your girlfriend!”

When Tommy promised not to have a single drop of alcohol, text every hour, not let her stand by any men, call when they leave the venue and get to the hotel ETC, Joel allowed it to happen. Sarah was ECSTATIC, being the first concert she’d ever been to, and although a teeny bopper band wasn’t exactly on Tommy’s dream list, he was excited to be a cool uncle. Also, Joel needed to get laid. He was getting cranky at work.

The night itself was a lot of fun. Joel took you to a nice restaurant, and after you came back to his place and changed into more comfortable clothes, you’d spent the night watching American Idol. Joel was very critical.

As the night progressed, your nerves grew as you knew where the natural progression of the night would take you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to fuck Joel; you really, really wanted to. And you weren’t nervous about him. You knew Joel would stop if you said stop. What you were nervous about was your body. Joel looked good, but he had a bit of a stomach himself so you didn’t think he’d be worried about your shape or small imperfections… Joel was a gentle soul, kind, loving. Yeah, that wasn’t the worry. The worry had been on your skin.

In the middle of winter, you’d managed to not show much skin around him, with jackets and long sleeves and pants… but it was inevitable. Joel had been a wonderful support to you these 4 months, holding your hand, listening to you when you cried. Slowly you opened up to him about the circumstances that meant you needed extra help, and he was everything you could ask for.

But how would he react to this?

Joel had you laid out on the bed, both of you still dressed and his pajama covered pants grinding into your warm cunt. Joel sure liked to take his time.

“We don’t gotta do noth’n, you know that right?” Joel muttered into your neck, drunk on you but still being respectful like the gentle man he was.

“I know”

He pulled back. “Then why’dya seem so nervous?”

You look up at him, wide eyed and nervous, but you needed this… you needed to tell him the truth. “Joel…”

He got off you, standing up at the edge of the bed. The massive, rock hard erection in his pants couldn’t have been comfortable, but his willingness to stop anyway meant a lot. It was a low bar but it was there.

“We can stop, I’m sorry-”

You sit up on your elbows. “It’s not you, it’s just um… I should tell you something before we start…”

“Okay.” He was few on words, but he looked receptive.

You weren’t sure how to do this, how to open up that conversation… so you decided just to show him. Lights still on, you begin to take off your shirt.

Joel tried to stop you. “Hey, hey, no, let’s talk.”

You smile at him. “We will, Joel, just… let me show you…” After the shirt was off, you slid off your pants and laid on the bed, spread out and close to naked in a bra and underwear.

“Jesus, darl’n…” Joel mumbled, taking in the sight before him.

Scars littered your body.

It wasn’t a few, it was a lot, and the coverage was significant. Joel’s eyes roamed your body, cock softening quickly despite your near-nakedness and took in the expanse of the scaring. Your thighs were the most noticeable, pink slaves across your skin from the hips to mid-thigh. His hand reached out instinctively, but pulled back. You noticed.

Your voice was soft, reassuring. You knew he was confused and curious. “You can touch me, it’s okay.”

He does. Joel’s fingers a feather light across your skin, feeling the way the scars dipped and raised depending on severity. There there cuts, but also burn mark; small circles from cigarettes twisting up the patterns more. It was all over, reaching back to the curve of your ass. His eyes followed the trail up and the cuts became less in intensity and number, but never stopping over your hip bone and to your stomach. These were lighter; less that split open the skin but the silver lines were still raised over the belly fat as his fingers touched you. Your bra-line showed more burns, and he stopped short of the cloth.

You take his hands and guide Joel to reach behind you to unclasp the bra, allowing him to pull it up and reveal your breasts. His eyes water as he sees the scars never stopped, marring your breasts, although not nearly the horrific amount on your thighs.

“I don’t understand…” He mumbles, sadness and distress clear in his eyes. “You did this to yourself?” Joel takes your hand in his, examining the scars making a ring around your wrist. He kissed the inside, eyes threatening to pool over.

You nod. “Yeah…”

His voice cracks. “But… why?”

“Sometimes…” You start, overcome with emotions at the clear pain on his face. He loved you so much, the thought of you in this much pain hurt him as well. “It was all I could do to cope.”

He didn’t seem like he understood, but he wasn’t judging you. He didn’t look at you like a freak like so many others did. He just knew he didn’t want you to feel this way again.

“I havn’t done it in a while.” You give him a smile. “You make things easier. I mean, I’m still… yeah… but you do make things much better.” He did. Having someone who held you, listened to you, helped pick up the pieces… it wasn’t going to cure you, but it was amazing how much support helped with the addition of meds and therapy.

Joel relaxed at that, a relieved and gentle smile on his face. “I’m glad, darl’n…” He held you hand to his face, chapped lips nuzzling against your damaged skin. “”M here to take care of you now, okay? I wanna help.”

“You do.” You assure him, pulling his face down to you again and taking his mouth in yours. “You mean so much to me Joel, you make me so happy…” His body covers yours once more, his warm encasing you as he protectively holds you.

“You’re safe with me.” Joel mutters against your mouth, fingers digging into your soft flesh.

You pull him closer to you, grinding yourself up against him, enticing him again. “Still want you tonight, please? I can’t wait any longer.” It’s had been a long 4 months and fuck, fuck you wanted him, badly.

“Always gonna take care of you, princesa.” Joel grinds his jeans-clothed cock against the soft fabric of your underwear, making you shutter. “Gonna take care of my pretty girl, always.”

And god, did he.

Joel’s mouth was sloppy, wet, hot between your legs. His tongue fucked into your hole, prodding you open and his hips bucking against the bed. Insatiable. Arms locked around your legs, his nose nudged against your clit as it seemed he was trying push himself as strongly against your body as he could, to devour you, to bring you and him the most absolute pleasure he could.

You tug at his hair, soft waves in between your fingers as you draw him closer to you. Warmth pooling in your stomach, you felt that pressure grow with every moan, every vibration, every sluuuuuuuuuurp! of your juices, christ he was incredible. You felt elevated, devoted too and adorned in affection the way you had always wanted to be. He was everything in this moment. Joel’s tongue slid up in a swift swipe, mouth and that pouty lower lip latching onto your clit with his fingers pumped into you.

“JOEL! J-ohhhhhh” Your cry for his name melted into moans as you came on his mouth and fingers, crushing his head between thighs as your legs bent. The power of your orgasm caused you to tense and then melt into the bed. You give a low hum as he kisses your inner thighs. As you come to reality again, you register Joel’s sweet kisses all over your legs. He’s kissing the trail of your scars. Joel kisses over the scars on your right thigh and up the crease at your inner hip.

“What are you doing?” You mutter, never for a moment fully let go of his hair.

“Appreciating every inch of you.”

Joel kissed his way up your torso, over the scars under your tits and over the mounds. Latching onto your nipple, he swirled his tongue around the sensitive skin. You can feel him smile against your skin when your back arches off the bed.

“Fuck, Joel, your fucking mouth…” You whimper, and when his mouth lets go his hands never do. Softly, he touches you in all the scarred, squishy parts of you you were trained for so long to hate.

He kissed you tenderly, gentle hands a contrast to his hungry mouth. That tongue, that goddamn tongue…

When he slides in, your eyes can’t help but roll back; your chest rises up against his broad expanse. He filled you so perfectly, fucking deep inside you and filling you up. You never felt so full. Your heart, your life, your stretched out cunt… every part of you was full and euphoric.

“My sweet, perfect girl…” Joel grunts as he pumps into you, hand braced against the headboard and towering over you. You gazed up at him, the yellow lighting of the ceiling fan created a halo around him. Joel looked positively angelic.

Fitting, as he was your angel.

You were aware how he was perceived in his culésac. Joel was highly respected; kind, hard working if a bit disorganized. A good southern man who raised his brother and daughter well, helped the elderly neighbors, bailed his brother out of pinches and would use his truck to help anyone move. Yeah, people liked Joel. But they wouldn’t call him gentle, like how you feel his hands over your stomach. They wouldn’t call him soft like you felt his stomach against yours. They wouldn’t call him angelic, but that was all you could say as you came on his cock.

They certainly would not call him warm, but that was all you felt as you pulled out and sprayed ropes of cum on your stomach.

You dozed off to sleep as he spread his cum around your scarred skin.

You vaguely register him cleaning you up, tired and content, and wait for him to join you again. His body felt perfect against your, fitting so well against your body like two puzzle pieces so close together. You had mumbled a request to be dressed, just in case Sarah and Tommy came home early, so you were both cuddled up in sweats under a thick blanket.

Everything with Joel felt safe and warm.

"Scars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going" -David Rossi, Criminal Minds.

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So, there we are. I'm very frustrated by the new bought of scars that are quite noticable that I have to wait to fade again but I refuse to be ashamed the way I used to. My scars are just scars from my trauma and illness. It's a moral failing of the people who have and continue to harm me, not mine.

Thank you all for reading, this was quite a venerable piece for me but I see a light at te end of the tunnel, and things will be getting better, I know it <3

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @milly-louise @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @mrs-oharaxx @pedge-page @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @yorksgirl

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citrusandcyanide · 18 days

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The First Time | L.G

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f! Reader

Synopsis. Based on The First Time by Hozier. Lip and His best friend have a complicated relationship and struggle to define their feelings for eachother.

an. omg I have literally been writing this for months. I started this when the album came out but kept changing how I wanted it to go. I hope you like it :)

words. 5.6k

Warnings. I do not own Hoziers lyrics or any writes to the song. Smoking, Drinking, mentions of intimacy.

Song link. The First time by Hozier

And the first time that you kissed me

I drank dry the River Lethe

The Liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same

You blamed it on the weed.

It was a cold foggy night when Lip called you to smoke with him. The sun had set hours before. You were walking home from a date with a guy from class. It had not gone well and you wouldn’t be going out with him again. You texted Lip after you left to update him on how it went. After he realized you were going to want to complain, he invited you to hang out under the L.

It was not like you were completely disinterested in the guy, but it wouldn’t be fair to say you didn’t go out of boredom. He seemed a lot more interested in you than you were of him. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it just wasn’t what you wanted.

Lip sat in the grass under the train platform, cigarette already in hand. Once you reached him, you took the cigarette from his lips and placed them between yours. You sat down as you inhaled.

“That bad?” Lip asked, fidgeting with his lighter. You shrugged, shaking your head as you took the cigarette away from your mouth. Handing it back to him, you exhaled.

“No. The opposite I guess,” you replied, placing your hands in your pocket to protect you from the cold. Lip noticed and scooted closer to you. He took the last hit before putting it out. He pulled a pack of rolling papers out of his pocket along with a grinder. He started rolling, signaling you to continue talking. “He was too nice. Just a gentleman you know?”

“What’s the problem then?” Lip chuckled in response, still prepping the joint.

“I just can’t understand how interested he was. Like he was really trying, asking me about my interests, paid for my meal, even offered to walk me home. But I couldn’t make myself interested. I felt really bad. I was wasting his time.”

You were expecting him to crack jokes, but he shook his head. You looked at him curiously as he lit the joint. Lip hands you the joint before replying.

“This is, uh, gonna sound blunt, but… I think it sounds like a pretty good date and I’m confused about why you’re upset.” You started laughing and took the joint from him. “You’ve been on much worse dates with guys you were interested in. Are you sure there wasn’t anything bad?”

“Well..” You thought for a moment. The very ending of the date replaying in your head. “He uh… was a very sloppy kisser.”

Lip let out a cough, choking on the smoke in surprise. He turned to you. “After all this talk of not being interested, you still kissed him?”

You shrugged in response, “I had no reason not to kiss him. He was very nice, just… thought maybe it would make me more inclined to like him. Didn’t fucking work though. God, it was so bad.” You put your head in your hands.

The joint continued to pass between the two of you. The cold was pushing you closer together. Eventually, your arms had been looped together, and shoulders were tightly pressed up against each other. The heat from the smoke and each other being your sole sources of heat. You told Lip of all the gross details. Eventually, it leads to bringing up all your failed dates. Lip followed along, bringing up details about each one that you had forgotten. Your head fell onto his shoulder.

“I don’t get why I’m so unlucky,” You sighed, taking a final drag from the joint. Lip scoffed.

“You’re not unlucky. No one deserves you,” Lip replied. He took the roach from you and put it out on the pavement between you. There was a moment of silence. You could feel his breathing slow down, signaling to you he was getting ready to speak. “So the kiss was the only thing that ruined the night?”

You didn’t look up at him, but nodded in agreement. He turned his head downward to look at you.

“Could I fix that?”

You took your head off his shoulder, eyes furrowed in confusion. “How would you fix it?”

“I could give you a better one.”

You don’t remember when you said yes. All you can remember was how soft his lips were on yours. His hand on your cheek sent flames through your skin.

There would be no reason for your best friend to ask to kiss you if it wasn’t because he was high. There would be no way you would agree with it unless YOU were high. Lip kissed you and the world you knew shattered. The cuddling and holding hands were normal. But with one simple question, the foundation of your friendship had changed. It was the best kiss you had ever had, but it didn’t fix anything like he intended.

He pulled away, keeping his hand on your cheek. A whole new man was in front of you. His blue eyes pierced into his soul. He was beautiful. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before but right now it was overwhelming.

“Is that better, baby?” Lip asked, his voice barely above a whisper. All you could do was stare back at him in awe and shock. Something took over you. All you wanted was to feel his lips again. You wanted everything. You wanted him.

And then he laughed quietly. It broke you out of your trance. You turned your head to your feet and shook your head. It was the weed. It had to be. The warmth from his touch vanished and replaced itself with cold. It pierced through your skin. You winced at his laugh. He was smiling, the type you never see when he’s sober.

Some part of me must have died

The first time you called me baby

You wanted to throw up.

You wanted to drink yourself until you forgot the feeling of his lips against yours. It was all you thought about. For a while all you did was drink, but no matter how much you did, nothing erased the feelings you had developed for your best friend. Lip didn’t make it any easier. He hadn’t brought the kiss up again, but his demeanor around you changed. He’d grab your hand more while you were walking. Or he’d have his arm over your shoulders on public transport.

Worse, and what made it hardest to forget, was the new nickname: Baby. It killed you and brought you to life again. You couldn’t help but melt when he said it. Baby. Something so simple. Nothing you would ever think you would like to be called, but from his mouth it was soft and sweet.

Lip never said it often enough for you to get used to. It was only ever heard when he was high or tipsy. Most nights it was over the phone when he was calling you to come over.

“I’m having a bad day, baby. Please come over.”

You always would. You knew it wasn’t good. Most of the time, he’d need physical comfort. Lip would fall asleep in your lap or on your chest. He’d go out of his way to make sure your hands were touching. He didn’t kiss you again, but he thought about it. It was like he was holding back from it. This was probably because when he’d call you over it was almost always about another girl. Lip could acknowledge that he needed comfort but didn’t want to play with your feelings to that level. He didn’t realize the game had already begun.

Everytime you were over you were falling deeper for Lip. You craved his touch. You craved being close to him. You craved him. You were addicted to the calls. Nights where he didn’t call, all you thought about was being around him.

This life lived mostly underground

Unknowing either sight nor sound

'Til reaching up for sunlight

Just to be ripped out by the stem

He didn’t kiss you again till college. You were far too gone when it happened. If someone asked the number of drinks shared between the two of you that night, neither of you would have an answer. You drank with the intention of going to a frat party, but neither of you made it there. You tend to be a happy drunk when you’re not wallowing in self pity. Other than the intense feelings you had towards your best friend, you had nothing that night to be sad about. Lip didn’t either. Being around you when you were happy drunk always lifted his mood while drinking too. Having stolen a few unopened bottles from the last party you attended, you didn’t wait to start pouring.

“I wanna dance,” You said suddenly standing up from Lip’s bed. You put your phone on the table and played the first song you saw. Lip stayed on his bed, sipping slowly at the cup in his hand. He smiled up at you. “Come dance with me.”

“No no. Trust I’m good right here,” He laughed, shaking his head. You took the cup out of his hand and put it on the table next to yours. Grabbing his hands, you pulled him up and wrapped your arms around his waist. You started swaying side to side, until he surrendered and started moving with you. “I can’t dance.”

“You dance with plenty of girls at parties,” Your reply was snarky. “So dance with me.” Lip shut up and started leading the two of you as you danced around the room. You let the music take over. The alcohol made the two of you a lot more confident with each other. Lips hands slid around your waist and pulled you close to him. You smiled brightly, happy that he was going along with your request.

Everytime the music would lead you to drift away from him, Lip would pull you infinitely closer. He wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, trapping you in his grasp. Your breathing stopped once you felt his chest on yours. His face was inches away from yours. You couldn’t hear the music anymore. Lip was the only thing in front of you. His eyes were staring deep into yours, yearning. You had never seen him look at you with such need.

“Stop trying to run from me, baby” Lip never broke eye contact with you. Seeing blush starting to take over your cheeks, his grip tightened around you. Then his Lips were on yours. They were much drier than they had been when he first kissed you years ago. Yet they were so much sweeter. You couldn’t get enough. You stopped dancing and held him closer. His lips migrated down away from yours, sucking softly on your skin.

After that night it became more frequent. You slept in his bed almost every night. Craving each other's touch even without alcohol. Everything about it made you feel like you were growing towards a relationship. Lip was soft with you. It didn’t feel like a hookup. You kept convincing yourself if it was, it would have happened years ago. The first kiss would have been more than that. You were comfortable with the silence and the intimacy that was kept in each other's rooms, until one night Lip decided to talk about it.

“Why do you let me do this?” He hovered above you as you were laying on his bed. He had broken the kiss to ask you the question. Your body stiffened, letting your arms fall from around his shoulders. You weren’t expecting him to ever ask the question. You thought it was obvious that you liked him and you liked being close to him. But the thought of saying it scared the shit out of you. This wasn’t a conversation to be having while sober. Especially with how this started.

“I don’t know..” is all you could say, choking a bit on your words. Lip was looking so intensely at you. “Do you not like it?”

He shifted to lay down next to you. “I feel like I shouldn’t.”

“Oh,” you shifted awkwardly. You blushed with embarrassment. You were so confused as to what he was thinking, but you knew you weren’t going to get any answers from him unless you answered his question. “Well, I like this.”

He stayed silent for a moment, as if he was deep in thought. “You don’t go out with other guys anymore. I’ve noticed it. You don’t talk about anyone when we see each other. I know you have other friends that you could spend time with, but you’re always coming here instead. I don’t think I’m good for you, Y/n. I’m taking you away from other people. If you like me at all, I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

You hated how well he knew you. He was able to read you like an open book. You knew that if you admitted it, he would stop allowing himself to be this close to you. It’d go back to how it was before the kiss, before he called you baby.

“It’s not like that. I just like the feeling, that’s all. Don’t worry about my feelings. You’re my best friend. That’s it.”

Sensing only now it's dying

Drying out then drowning blindly

Blooming forth its every color

In the moments it has left

Amanda came out of nowhere. Suddenly she was taking up all of Lip’s time. Lip had always liked girls that were direct at communicating their wants. And Amanda sure was organized. Not to mention she was rich.

Despite your agreement with Lip, your feelings didn’t stop growing. You honestly didn’t try to stop loving him. It was so easy to pretend he was yours. He still held your hand in public, brought you snacks in between classes, and fucked you softly before bed. Everything about it felt like love. Unspoken but still there. Maybe it was a weird way that Lip showed his affection to you, even if it was just platonic. You didn’t need it to be anything more than that. You were happy how it was. Even if it meant sharing him with a few one night stands every once in a while. He never called anyone ‘baby’ but you.

But Amanda meant something different. She had more to offer Lip than you. She was better at school than you and was able to help Lip manage his work even with all the shit going on at home. You tried to help with what you could, but heck she was just better than you with everything. Lip needed the guidance, but it hurt seeing her take him from you.

When he started calling her his girlfriend, you stayed in bed for a week. You told Lip you were sick and didn't want him visiting you. You shouldn’t have let it affect you as much as it did. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He made it very clear he didn’t want to be, but you were so angry. You just wanted to be alone. For the first few days after he told you, he hadn’t reached out to hang out. In all the years you knew him, there was never more than a day you’d go without seeing each other. It was part of your routine. It’s like he completely forgot you existed. That was what hurt the most, the feeling of being easily replaced. You didn’t reach out to him to see how long it would take for him to notice your absence. On the fourth day he texted you about a question on an assignment. Before you could stop yourself, you texted him back “Fuck you.” It didn’t take long for him to reply.

Lip: ???????

What the fuck did I do?

He showed up to your door the next day with a slice of dining hall cake. You tried slamming the door on his face but he was too quick to catch it. You returned back to your bed as he entered your room. He stood above your bed silently, staring at you inquisitively. After a few moments he sighed, set the piece of cake on your desk and sat down on the bed next to you.

“You’re not really sick are you?” He asked quietly. You didn’t reply, causing him to roll his eyes. He asked you to move over so he could lay down next to you. “Baby, what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Now you want to talk to me? It’s kind of you to remember your best friend exists.” It all came out a little too harsh, but Lip didn't seem to mind. You turned towards the wall so you didn’t have to face him. He put his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest. You missed the comfort he brought you, but it didn’t stop you from being angry. Nonetheless you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“I never forgot you existed. Why’d you say something like that?” He chuckled slightly. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Is this about Amanda?”

“You haven’t talked to me at all,” your voice cracked when you said it. “She’s helping you, I know.. But I’d still appreciate a hello at least.”

Lip held you closer. “I’m sorry, her schedule is a little intense to get used to. She hasn’t been allowing me any freetime. I told her I needed a bathroom break just to be able to come visit you.”

“Sounds like abuse,” you mumbled under your breath. Lip laughed softly. He kissed your shoulder. You didn’t know if you should have flinched or relaxed.

“It’s no excuse to not reach out sooner. I’m sorry.” Lip was trying so hard to get you to loosen up and look at him. He was surprised you hadn’t thrown him off of you by now. His least favorite thing was to see you upset. Your eyes were glued to the wall. “She’s watching Liam right now. I can text her and say I’m staying the night. You can catch me up on everything I missed since I last saw you.”

“You shouldn’t kiss me,” you told him, voice stern.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You have a girlfriend, you shouldn’t kiss me. That includes the shoulder,” You clarified, also moving your body away from him. You felt him flinch a little. He shifted to holding himself up by one of his arms. You could feel him staring down at you. You had never shifted away from him. He scoffed, sitting up on the bed.

“What? So you’re jealous?” He had the same tone in his voice he gets when he’s irritated. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know Lip, maybe since you finally committed to being a fucking boyfriend for once you should commit to the full act,” you spat finally looking at him. It gave him the chance to see how tired you were. There were dark circles under your eyes, making the crying you had done over the past few days more evident. You looked so hurt and fragile. Lip wasn’t stupid, but he felt like he had not seen it before. He couldn't be angry seeing you like this.

He put a hand on your cheek. “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

You avoided his eyes and scoffed. You knew he was talking about how you swore you didn’t have feelings for him.

“Y/n, talk to me,” he said, forcing you to look back at him.

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Lip?” You spat back at him, shoving his hand away from your face. “That I’m secretly in love with you and feel like a piece of garbage you just threw out. Fuck you, Gallagher. I don’t expect you to be my knight in shiny-fucking-armor, but I expect you to be my best friend. You can’t fuck me one night, tell me you have a girlfriend, and crawl back into my bed the next. I don’t know what you see in Amanda and her stupid hello kitty backpack, but what I can’t figure out is what made her look like a better option than me.”

“She’s not a better option,” Lip argued back immediately.

“Yeah, then why am I not your girlfriend? What about me makes you think I’d be better off just as a fuck buddy. You’ve been screwing me long enough for me to get the hint. You’ve made it so insanely clear.”

“See this is exactly why I asked if you liked me, so we wouldn’t end up in this fucking mess.”

“What would have changed? Honestly, what do you think would happen? You’d stop playing with my feelings, avoid me for months, and let me just sit with the heartbreak of being rejected by a friend who has been acting like my boyfriend for years. While you wait it out until I’m over it so you can come back again? I get you don’t like me, but you really think I was gonna let you add salt to the wound?”

“Who the fuck said I didn’t like you?” Lip’s voice was irritated but it remained soft and quiet. You looked at him confused, laughing at what he was suggesting.

“You’re something, Philip Gallagher. Really something,” You scoffed, standing up from the bed. Lip grabbed your hand, pulling you back down. He pushed his lips to your mouth roughly. You let yourself slip into the kiss for a second before pushing him away by his chest. “You’re a prick.”

“I love you, jesus fucking christ baby,” Lip rolled his eyes. He held his hands firm on each side of your head, keeping you close to his. “Will you just.. shut up for a second? Please.”

You stared at him silently, tears collecting in your eyes. Lip let out a sigh and kissed your forehead. He knew it was his fault that you were so upset. He never wanted to hurt you this much. He never expected you to fall for him this hard. It was all his mistake. Lip had loved you from the moment he met you, but he was always afraid of his feelings. He didn’t have a healthy relationship with love. Putting you through his shit was never something Lip wanted to put on you. You deserved better. You deserved to go on nice dates, be spoiled with gifts and beautiful words. Lip didn’t know how to give you that. He convinced himself that it was better off to stay friends. It was easier to keep you around as his best friend. He got to see you every day. You talked to him the most out of everyone in your life. He saw your best and worst moments from closer than anyone. He could admire how beautiful you were without ever worrying about it having to end.

He could ignore the first kiss but he knew he fucked it all up when you hooked up the first time. It was no longer just adoration. It was selfish of him to put you through this thinking it wouldn’t affect you. His heart was heavy hearing you tell him you loved him. He had always wished to hear you say it, but not now. Not like this. He hated seeing you think that he only wanted to fuck.

“There is no one else in this world I love more than you,” Lip’s voice was barely above a whisper. His bright blue eyes pierced into yours. He also looked on the verge of tears. You broke eye contact and opened your mouth to talk. Lip shook his head and quickly kissed you to shut you up. “I’m the biggest idiot for letting you think anything different. And I’m sorry. I couldn’t imagine a girl as brilliant as you wanting to be with a prick like me, but I never ever thought you weren’t good enough to be my girlfriend.”

“What about Amanda, Lip?”

“She’s paying me a fuck ton of money to say we’re dating so she can piss off her parents,” Lip answered plainly. You looked at him slightly shocked. You couldn’t help but start laughing. Lip laughed with you. “Like soooo much money.”

“Baby,” Lip said while he grabbed one of your hands in his. You had stopped laughing by now. This was the most honest he had ever been with his feelings. You could tell he was slightly embarrassed by the red of his cheeks. You laced your fingers in his and listened quietly as he spoke. “I never asked you to be my girlfriend because I don't think I’d be a good enough boyfriend to you. I thought it would be better just as we were. I show my affection better in other ways.”

“It just sucks to see another girl so easily come and take your attention,” You said with a scoff. You studied his hand in yours. Lip was quiet, watching you play with his hand. “I’m comfortable with what we are. But don’t go to someone else and forget I exist. That’s all I ask.”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you,” Lip said quietly.

“Then don’t,” Your reply came out as more of a warning. You kissed his cheek.

To share the space with simple living things

Infinitely suffering

But fighting off like all creation

The absence of itself

Anyways…

For years, you sat on the sidelines. Lip tried his best to stick to his promise, but as time went by tension slowly grew. After things ended with Amanda, a part of you hoped he’d turn back and give you a chance. That hope remained through every girl he saw afterwards, but it never happened. You waited for years for the day he would ask you to be his. He loved you, after all. That’s what he told you. It wasn’t unrealistic to hope that one day he’d want to be with you.

The longer it went on, the more it began hurting you. It was getting harder to watch him grow further from you. Yet you were being dragged right along, forced to watch as he drifted away. You couldn’t escape it. Lip had been waiting for the day he felt like he deserved you, but that also never came. His alcoholism pushed him further into self-pity. You were always there to take care of him. Always extended your arms when he needed to be held. The lack of control made him angry and was ultimately what pushed himself away from you. It destroyed any vision of himself that was good enough to take care of you. So he never tried. He found other women for romantic comfort.

The two of you kept each other around for as long as possible as it was inevitably tearing you apart. Neither of you had stopped loving each other, but it hadn’t been like it was in college. Reality was setting in. The romance was turning old. Both of you were impatient with each other. Lip didn’t play around with your feelings when he entered into a relationship. He didn’t sleep with you and he would never kiss you. You hoped it was out of respect for you, but you assumed it was to not complicate the new relationship. Neither of you wanted to cheat.

While recovering from his alcoholism, he met Tammy. This was different from any of his other relationships. It wasn’t hard to tell Lip was learning to love her. You recognized all the signs, how careful he was with her. It was like watching your relationship from afar all over again. You could tell he was scared, but what hurt the most was seeing the effort he put into being better for her. He had told you years ago that he couldn’t treat you well, but Tammy was being offered it all.

The last time it was heard out loud

The perfect genius of our hands and mouths were shocked

To resignation as the arguing declined

When I was young I used to guess there are limits to any emptiness?

When was the last time? Come here to me.. When was the last time?

You were the first person he shared the news of Tammy’s pregnancy. The heartbreak was worse than what you were preparing for. You listened for what felt like eternity as he told you they were keeping it, that he was planning to raise the child with her. You knew this meant it was over. There would never be anything more than what you had. You were never meant to be his and he was never going to be yours. You couldn’t keep pretending.

You just stared at him. You didn’t know what to say. Congrats? Fuck you? What hurt the most was how excited he had seemed to tell you the news. You knew how much he wanted to be a father. You were right there with him when he found out Karen’s kid wasn't his. You were standing in front of him as he sat on the steps of his family's house. He was smoking a cigarette. You had never seen him so calm and happy. You wanted to punch him.

“What? You’re not saying anything,” Lip chuckled, looking at you confused. You hadn’t felt so broken before. It was like he was forgetting who he was talking to. To you, this conversation was an end to your friendship with Lip Gallagher, but he didn’t realize that. He was just sharing the good news. “Not even congrats?”

“I don’t think we should see eachother anymore,” You responded, never breaking eye contact with the boy. Lips face dropped. He felt his heart fall into his stomach. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had been fine with how things were. Lip had thought he kept his promise. He never stopped making time for you. You were his best friend and always the first he shared good news with. He thought this would be the same. But in his excitement, he failed to consider how you’d feel hearing the news. He couldn’t read your expression. You looked so tired. If you were holding back tears, Lip couldn't see.

Lip stood up and walked closer to you. He went to grab your hand, but you put one up to his chest, preventing him from moving any closer.

“I have spent far too long waiting for something that was never going to happen,” You watched him as his expression changed from confusion, fear, then realization. “I’m done waiting for you to decide when you're ready to love me.”

“I have been loving you,” Lip said defensively. He always feared this moment, the one where you had enough and walked away. He couldn’t lose you now. “What fucking happened? We talked about this, I thought we were good.”

“I have watched you get closer to love with countless other women than you have ever gotten with me. I will not watch you raise another woman’s child happily and pretend like you love me,” you said, shaking your head.

“You’re just gonna leave? That's it? We’ve been friends for our entire fucking lives and suddenly I get a chance to be happy and build something for myself, and you want to leave,” Lip didn’t know what he was accusing you of, but he thought you were over the relationship years ago. You stayed around because you were his friend, not because you wanted to be with him.

“YOU ARE HAVING ANOTHER WOMAN’S CHILD,” You screamed. “And you think I’m going to believe you when you say you love me? This isn’t some shit I can be with you for. You have responsibilities to her and your child now. You expect me to play aunt and raise the child with you? And watch you live my fucking dream out with someone else? I know you love her. Just fucking admit it, you love her more than you ever loved me. I can’t watch this. I can’t be on the sidelines after insisting you could never give it to me.”

“I love her,” Lip stated. You went silent. You felt your shoulders grow heavy. You sat down on the steps of his porch. Your head fell into your hands. “You’re right. I love her and I’m going to love this kid. It’s not fair to expect you to stick around for it. I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence. Relief sank in. You could let go now. He was never going to be yours and knowing that felt good. The heartbreak you were feeling now would settle. It was over. Lip sat down on the step beside you. You looked across the street.

“You know, for years, I’d ask myself if this was ever gonna end? There were moments I really wished it would, but I couldn’t decide if life felt emptier without you or with you,” You said quietly. You could feel Lip’s heavy breathing beside you.

“You were so much better than I could ever take care of, Baby. I couldn’t give you what you deserved.” It sounded like an apology coming from his mouth. Hearing him say it brought tears to your eyes. It was the last time you’d ever hear him say it.

You turned to him and smiled. “Baby… You never even tried.”

Some part of me must have died

The final time you called me baby

But some part of me came alive

The final time you called me baby

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x y/n #shameless #jeremy allen white x reader #lip gallagher angst #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher x you #phillip gallagher #jeremy allen white

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mousy-nona · 3 months

Note

Head-cannon for thought?

Lucifer has duck wings so they molt every spring and end of summer. Luci dealing with molting… with Alastor??

Excerpts from “Duck Care for Dummies: Hell Edition”:

Molting can be painful for your aquatic friends! Their skin can get very sensitive during this time, and some ducks may even pick on their fellow birds. Please be patient with them throughout the molting process.

Alastor looked up from the book with a grin that sent Angel Dust scurrying for cover.

“Very interesting,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming fever-bright.

The mystery started a few weeks ago. The denizens of the hotel had woken up one morning to find some mysterious prankster had scattered feathers everywhere – between the couch cushions, on the stairs, even stuffed between the kitchen cabinets and in between the radio speakers (that one felt a bit personal).

So began a strange battle, with the hotel on one side and what appeared to be the ghost of Mother Goose on the other. Every afternoon, they’d finish cleaning up the remnants of last night’s avian snowstorm, and every morning they’d wake up to find a new layer of radiant white down covering every possible – and impossible – surface.

Husk finally lost it when he found a stray piece of fluff floating in his rum. “Alright, ‘fess up! Who the hell is shaking their tail feathers around this damn place, huh?”

He glared daggers at Vaggie, whose very conspicuous wings flared wide as everyone turned to stare at her. She marched forward until she and Husk were nose to nose.

“What the hell are you implying, huh?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying, you overgrown chicken!”

It was mayhem. Charlie rushed to Vaggie’s defense, Angel Dust pulled out a bin of popcorn, Niffty started chanting kill kill kill kill at the top of her tiny lungs. But Alastor, who made a habit of haunting the shadows, spotted something no one else did: one of Lucifer’s hands twitching towards his back. Where his own wings would be, when he wasn’t hiding them.

“Interesting,” Alastor grinned, then disappeared to the library, where he found this book after a few hours of intense searching. Someone had moved it from the shelves and shoved it under a massive pile of papers – almost as if they didn’t want anyone to find it.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor was nothing if not thorough. Humming a swinging, jaunty tune, flipped to the last chapter.

So your duck is molting…what should you do about it?

Unlike their earthly counterparts, ducks in hell may go through a much longer molt without help. A good avian caretaker can speed up the process by helping brush out the feathers. A light touch is essential – using a soft brush or bare fingers is the best way to dislodge the plumage without hurting the sensitive skin underneath.

“Very interesting.”

He waited until nightfall to make his move. When the hotel had finally quieted down, and the only thing he could hear were the roaches in the walls, he willed himself to appear by Lucifer’s door and knocked, just once.

Lucifer cracked open the door, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. “Charlie, is that – oh. It’s you.” He sighed, visibly deflating when he saw who it was. Alastor’s smile widened.

Oh, he was going to enjoy every moment of this. Especially the parts where Lucifer would protest, and stutter, and turn as red as one of his beloved apples.

“I was doing a little light reading today, and stumbled upon a rather interesting passage.”

Lucifer scoffed and tried to slam the door in his face, but Alastor managed to slip his foot in the crack before he could.

“Alastor, it’s really way too late for this – “

Alastor held up the book in question, and Lucifer shut up immediately. A pink blush spread across his pale face. Alastor could have purred with satisfaction at the sight of it. Oh, how he enjoyed making Lucifer uncomfortable. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

“Would you like me to share a few verses with you? I must say, this portion about just how sensitive the skin grows during a molt is especially fascinating –”

“Shut up!” Lucifer stuck his head out into the hallway and hurriedly glanced around, checking to make sure if anyone had overheard him. Then he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and yanked him inside.

“Your Majesty, how very forward of you.”

Lucifer pinched his nose between two fingers and took a long breath in. Out. “So you figured it out, huh?”

“That you’ve been spreading your body parts all over the hotel?” Alastor chuckled merrily. “Quite. I found it especially interesting how fond your feathers were of my radios.”

Lucifer had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Okay, that was childish, I admit it. But you’re not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“That’s entirely by design, I assure you.” Alastor stepped forward, his smile turning coy. “But this little midnight rendez-vous isn’t about me. It’s about you, and your rather, ah, feathery problem.”

Lucifer pouted, looking almost uncannily like one of his beloved toy ducks. “I’ve never gone through a molt alone, alright? Lilith is usually here to help me out, and…it’s a rather intimate thing to ask of Charlie.”

“That’s why I’m here!” Alastor grinned. “Alastor the Radio Demon, at your humble service.” He swept into a grand bow, ending it with a little flourish of his cane because he was a showman, first and foremost.

Lucifer blanched. “If you think I’m ever letting you within an inch of my wings–”

“And what’s the alternative, your Majesty? You’re going to fill the hotel with feathers until we all suffocate or drown? You’ll wait until Husk kills Vaggie?” He covered his mouth, feigning shock. “I didn’t realize you were so cruel! You would really stand by and do nothing as your daughter becomes a widow?”

Lucifer scoffed, but Alastor could tell that he’d hit a nerve. He paused and ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair.

There was a long moment of silence. Then finally – “I do need help.” The words were so quiet, spoken so quickly it could have been a passing breeze.

Alastor stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Lucifer’s thin shoulders. Lucifer was burning up, his back so hot Alastor could feel it through his gloves. “The night’s not getting any younger.” He leaned in so his lips brushed the shell of Lucifer’s ear, delighting in his shudder, in the bob of his throat as Lucifer gulped. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple. Alastor’s mouth watered, but he forced himself to sit still and wait. “I suggest we start immediately.”

“Fine,” Lucifer sighed. Slowly, begrudgingly, he stripped off his coat and shirt, then willed his wings into existence. All six of them sprang out in a veritable shower of feathers. Alastor was covered in the stuff – feathers were in his hair, on his suit, stuck on his pants. A few of them even landed in his mouth, to his great displeasure.

He spat them out and glared daggers at the angel, who looked like he might burst out laughing. “Sorry,” Lucifer said, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic about the mess.

Alastor determinedly shook off the plumes that he could find. Then he stepped forward, stripping off his gloves as he loomed over Lucifer’s wings. His smile grew as Lucifer shrunk back, staring nervously at the sharp points of his claws as they drew closer and closer to his tender skin.

“Can’t you keep those things on?” He squeaked.

“No can do!” Alastor said, almost sing-song with glee. “The book said it would be better with bare hands.”

“They probably didn’t think of the claws – oh!” He jolted upright, as if he’d been tazed. His eyes fluttered closed, a truly indecent sound ripping from his throat as Alastor rubbed the outer spot of his wings. A few feathers flew off, revealing bare skin beneath. With a gentleness that Alastor hadn’t known he’d possessed, he rubbed carefully around the frame of the wings first, working from left to right as he freed Lucifer of the worst of the molting.

Lucifer grit his teeth, his throat working as he fought to keep those strange sounds inside, but more and more escaped as Alastor finished with the edge of his wings and started working his way inward, towards the spot where his wings folded into his shoulder blades. At one point, Alastor brushed against a particularly sensitive zone near his upper back, and Lucifer let loose a long, low moan, his back arching up against Alastor’s graceful fingers.

And Alastor, being Alastor, couldn’t let it slide.

“Having fun, your Majesty?”

Lucifer turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Like strawberries in spring. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Alastor’s hand stilled. “Why, I thought I was doing you a favor. I could stop here…”

“No!” Lucifer yelped, then buried his head in his arms, as if he wished the floor would swallow him whole. “I mean…”

“Yes?” Alastor prompted. The embarrassment! The shame! Lucifer’s humiliation was sweet on his tongue, like blood and spun sugar.

“Please continue,” Lucifer whispered, his voice mouse-quiet. Alastor chuckled.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Lucifer jerked and arched as Alastor finished his ministrations, the white pile of feathers on the floor growing into hills, then mountains. Finally, Alastor leaned back, humming with satisfaction at a job well done.

“I daresay my work here is finished.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking out his wings with a groan of satisfaction. “They feel so light! I can’t remember the last time I could move them like this. I – Alastor, thank you.”

Alastor grinned. “Save your thanks. Let’s just say…you owe me one.”

Lucifer blanched and shook his head. “I am definitely not saying that.”

As Alastor turned to leave, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder.

“My molting season…it doesn’t end for another few weeks.”

“And…?” Alastor prompted, his Cheshire cat grin stretched almost impossibly wide.

“I would appreciate it if we could do this again,” Lucifer said, too fast, as if he thought he could pretend he never said it if he said it quickly enough.

"An interesting idea! I'll be sure to give it some thought."

Lucifer spluttered, but Alastor was already gone, his radio laugh echoing endlessly into the night.

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #duckiedeer #lucifer molts #prompts #asks

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prouddogboi · 1 year

Text

Stray dog (Part 1)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and forcefully refuses affection from Ghost and Soap even in his sleep.

Word count: 1852

Warnings: It's my first time posting my writing on Tumblr. There are so few CODxM!Reader fics I just want to contribute lmao TToTT. The warning is it can be shit because I'm new.

It was a successful mission. A tough one, yes, many soldiers got serious injuries and had to spend days in the hospital, but still, the mission was accomplished with minimal loss. The people at the base decided to throw a party at a well-known bar in the area. As usual, you stayed close to your team, until they left you all alone again for whatever they were up to: Ghost and Soap went into the dark corridor doing ‘secret’ business except for the fact that everyone knew what that business was; Price meeting up with the Captains of other teams, talking about the ‘kids’ in their care like the good ol’ tired dads and moms they all were; Gaz hitting up on some pretty guy or girl; and Roach just immersing himself in the music on the dance floor.

“The usual shot?” The bartender smiled at you. He was an ordinary-looking guy, not too tall, not too short, but he was always nice to you.

“Yeah.” You replied, eyes looking down at the empty glass in your scarred hand. Your usual shot was one of the heaviest types served at this bar, you found its bitter, stinging taste and the dizziness it brought about worked wonders for you, helping to repress the strong emotions that always came up to the surface to trouble you whenever you were off the field, whenever you were not having to fight between life and death. Free time and a mind that was offered the opportunity to relax were not something you felt grateful for. Instead, you loved being constantly stimulated when being in battles, since it left your mind no time to overthink unnecessary things other than trying to keep yourselves and your teammates alive.

“A successful mission, huh? Everyone is enjoying themselves a lot tonight.” The bartender said, clearly trying to keep talking to you as he was preparing your drink.

“It was.”

“Did you get injured?”

“Just some scratches, nothing serious.”

“You seem to do your job very well.”

You did. You were a good soldier. An excellent one even. You were showered with praise from the Captain, the teammates, the higher-ups… just anyone after almost every mission. Even Ghost himself had to admit that you were a good one. However, you didn’t know for sure what made you excel while most others didn’t. Maybe it was because every mission you paid no mind as to whether you would be alive or not. It was true that everyone in this line of work had to come to terms with the notion of death upon themselves, no one could be sure how many days they got left on this planet doing this kind of job, but you were still different. You weren’t actively trying to get yourselves in situations that would get you killed, because it often meant a great threat to your teammates too, but you were not one that would hold on to life that much. You were always ready to sacrifice.

“I notice that you’re always alone. Well, the others do join you, but after a while, they leave and you’re still here.” The bartender passed you the shot.

“They have things to do.”

“Why don’t you? Getting out there and having some fun.”

Fun? It did not sound fitting to who you were. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I prefer it this way.”

“By the way, can I ask for a guy’s number? The one with the mohawk.”

“You mean Soap?” You left out a soft chuckle, “Give up, mate. He already has a partner. A scary one.”

“Who?”

“The fuckin’ huge one with the skull mask. I’m sure you know well who he is and how scary he is.”

“What? That guy? I’ve always thought he’s into you though.”

This time you laughed out loud. The thought of someone interested in you was just so ridiculous, it felt surreal and impossible, “Ain’t no way, why would you think that?”

“He always looks at you with those piercing eyes, as if he will eat you up in no time.”

“Probably it’s because the Soap guy is always leaning over me. He’s so mad that I dare to get that near to his precious partner that he just wants to end my life right here.” You drank up the whole glass in one breath, then smashed the now empty glass on the bar, resulting in a huge ‘thump’ sound, mainly due to the fact that it was your fist that came into contact with the wooden material. It sent a burning feeling to your skin and fresh, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain you had to endure in battles or the mental one off field, when your mind was free to drift away.

“Could be. But I still think he is into you.” The bartender shrugged, knowing you so well that he went ahead to prepare another shot for you. Nights like this often led to you drinking non-stop until you were so drunk that you’d pass out, and that masked guy was the one who carried you back. That was another reason besides the intense glare that made him convinced that the guy was attracted to you. Well, the hot man with the mohawk was always there too, but he usually waited in distance and smiled at how the masked guy having trouble carrying you as you thrashed around in his arms, clearly too drunk to know that he was just helping you. But the bartender only thought that the mohawk and the masked guy were close friends. Now that you mentioned it, it was indeed possible that they were in love with each other.

Wouldn’t that make a love triangle though? The bartender threw a glance at you, studying you with amusement. Everyone loved some drama in their mundane lives. You were a handsome boy with sharp facial features, those damn bright eyes that lit up the whole place when you genuinely smiled, and all those strong muscles. He would’ve asked for your number instead if that scary big masked man wasn’t into you that much.

A few hours passed and the party came to its near end. All those smiling and laughing soldiers slowly hopped on the vehicles, making their way back to the base, clearly not wanting to wake up a mess the day after. They still had training as usual after all. One didn’t seem to care though. You collapsed on the bar, your handsome face grew red with how drunk you were and how much alcohol your body had absorbed. Ghost and Soap assured Price that they would bring you back safe before the tired dad of your Task Force got in the car with Gaz and Roach. They didn’t usually drink too much when they were off base, but you were quite the opposite. The team had no idea why you would pour so much alcohol into your mouth and stomach on these occasions, it was like you were grieving over something rather than celebrating the good news of a successful mission. Everyone in this line of work had their own past and troubles, but there was indeed something different in your troubles as they never felt that you were comfortable to open up. Soap even joked a lot about how much harder it was to get closer to you than Ghost. It was true that you were always smiling, chatting, and gossiping with him and Gaz and Roach over stupid things, but there was this invisible wall that you had built around your heart, unwilling to let anyone in.

Ghost and Soap got to the bar where you were lying.

“Come to get him?” The bartender was cleaning all the glasses that you and some other regulars used.

Ghost looked at you as your eyes were tightly shut, clearly not happy with your current condition, “Maybe next time don’t let him drink too much.”

The bartender raised his hands, “C’mon, I’m just serving my customers. He appears to need those shots to handle whatever emotions he’s having.”

Ghost and Soap turned their head to look at each other for a few seconds before Ghost stepped up and got you off the bar. You were too drunk to know anything, but surprisingly tonight you were very silent and cooperated well with your Lieutenant.

“Let’s take you back to your room, huh?” Ghost was content with this sudden change and Soap just casually used his strong hand to rub your neatly cut hair.

As Soap parked the car in the base's park, Ghost threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you off the vehicle. However, your tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, they widened as you turned your head left and right to make sense of your surroundings.

“You’re up early.” Soap said jokingly.

“He’s too drunk to understand your stupid sarcasm, Soap.” Ghost scoffed.

However, it took both men aback when they heard you sobbing. Soap was quick to cup your face with his palms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sobbing almost uncontrollably, trying to get your face out of his grip. One of Ghost’s arms went to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place and calm you down, but you started to act the usual way when you were drunk: thrashing around hysterically, as if you were striving so hard to escape from something inescapable.

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

“Y/n, calm down, calm down! It’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap tried to talk some sense into the heavily drunk you.

“Stay away from me!” You didn’t seem to listen. Feeling Ghost’s grip was still firm around your body, you got more and more violent. Screaming and kicking, you definitely hurt him in the process as you finally succeeded in getting away. You stumbled a few steps on the cold cement ground before you collapsed on it due to the perfect dizziness that you hoped the shots at the bar would gift you. You curled into a ball, trembling violently yet not from how cold the ground was. Shuddering sobs still escaped your lips, and your eyes were tightly shut again. Price and Gaz hurriedly ran to where you three were, their eyes filled with worry given how loud and heartfelt your screams were (Roach didn’t come with them because he also drank too much). The two men saw Ghost and Soap standing beside you, their arms were hanging in the air as if they were holding on to something, while you were there, laying on the ground sobbing and mumbling unintelligible words.

Luckily you quickly fell asleep again, still sobbing but unconscious enough for the men to carry you back to your room. They tucked you nicely into your bed, watching over your now peaceful sleeping face. Soap wiped the tears left on your cheeks with his hand, his mind questioning the reasons why you reacted so fiercely to them taking care of you earlier. When you finally stopped sobbing, they carefully left your room. There were things to be discussed, but they could wait.

to be continued bc I have class tmr and I need to sleep :D

#call of duty #cod #cod x male reader #ghost cod #soap cod #john price #gaz cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x male reader #soap x male reader #price is a tired dad #mw2 x male reader #roach cod #cod x reader #it's 3am in the morning im fvcked guys #angst #cod angst

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cosmos-coma · 1 year

Text

Sick Days- Geralt

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: You refuse to tell Geralt that you're sick and so he has to find out the hard way

__________________________________

“How are you doing back there, Y/n?” Geralt called back to you, he and Roach taking the lead on this narrow path.

The partly cloudy afternoon was more than welcome to you compared to the rain you had pushed through all day yesterday. And the day before. Ugh.

Honestly, you liked rain as a whole, but the added chill in the air and the absolute soaking of your jacket left you feeling tired, feverish, and sniffly. You dared not let Geralt know that you were growing sick, the deadline to get to Novigrad was drawing closer and you refused to be the cause for missing it.

“Yep, yeah, I’m okay back here…” you lied. Your vision had begun spinning and your vision started lagging behind your eyes about 10 minutes ago. Your light tunic clung to your skin as your fever made you sweat relentlessly. Your various layers were laying across your horse in an unceremonious heap where you had left them and- wait, did you lose a jacket along the way? Hmm, you couldn't remember.

You let out a soft hum as a faint breeze cooled your skin and gave you a moment of relief from the sweltering heat.

“Y/n?” Geralt called out to you, “did you hear what I said?”

“Hm? Oh, no… what were you saying?” Your eyes closed as you tried to listen, your ears only picking up garbled noises. You could feel your body begin to get to tired to hold itself together, but you had to fight through it.

“Hmm, That’s interesting… “ you replied- well you're pretty sure that’s what you said. You… couldn’t be sure right now. Your consciousness filled with nothing more than a dense fog you couldn't seem to fan away.

“Yes very interesting…” you slurred out as your mind finally forced your body to shut down and everything went dark.

“Y/n, you’re not making any sense- shit..!” Geralt turned just in time to see you fall off your horse with a great big THUD. A pathetic groan was the last sound your barely conscious body sent out as Geralt yelled again and ran to your limp body.

“Y/n?” he shook you, “Fuck… and you’re burning up,” he commented and swiftly picked you up, your skin blazing and burning against his. “Let’s get you to an Inn, we’re done traveling for today…”

You woke up on clean linens, your body stripped down to its underclothes and covered in damp washcloths to keep you cool. “Hmm, Geralt...?” you grunted out as you sat up, rolled up cloth falling from your forehead, “Oh- nope, no, no, no... too dizzy…” you sighed and promptly laid down again.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty…” Geralt jested and sat on the edge of the bed- his expression slowly changing to something more sincere, his voice quieting as he urged you to take in the seriousness of his words. “You scared me back there… why didn’t you tell me that you were sick..? That you had a fever..?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find an adequate explanation, but it never came.

“You could have died if you’d fallen over a cliff's edge…if your head had hit rocks…” Geralt couldn’t even meet your eyes as he talked- instead opting to replace the damp cloths on your forehead. “You’re not as hearty as a Witcher is- you know that.”

You frowned, feeling more and more like a scolded child as he spoke to you. You shook your head and glanced outside instead of anywhere near this conversation.

“Y/n...” Geralt sighed, knowing exactly what you were doing, “Dear heart..?” he tried once more, finally catching your gaze.

“I don’t mean to make your softness such a flaw- you know it's exactly what pulled me into you in the first place..” A small smile crept over his features as he briefly remembered your first meeting. “But you need to let me know when to slow down, okay? Remind me now and then to be a little softer too,” he spoke so quietly that you were sure nothing else in the world could have heard him but you.

Your own expression reflected his smile and his whispered words fluttered around your heart “I will… I promise.” your fingers reached out for his, searching around until they captured his touch. “Oh, how long have I been out? We need to keep going” you urged, using your aching arm to bring his hand up to your lips in a soft kiss before you struggled to pull yourself upright.

But Geralt only laughed and shook his head as he helped you sit up, “now I see where Ciri gets her endless determination from- neither of you wants to stop for a minute to take care of yourselves.”

“We learned it from YOU, Geralt…” you grinned, sniffling as your nose threatened to run.

Eyes rolling, his smile became even wider. “Anyways… I mean to say that you shouldn’t worry about it… we’ve been making good time, we can spare a day to let you rest and recover.”

You nodded and relaxed a bit more, rolling your shoulder and cracking your back as you tried to get comfortable. “Good… Good, I really can’t fall off like that again. I feel like I just slammed shoulder-first into a shaelmaar…”

“I bet,” Your witcher snorted, a knowing smile hiding behind your hand as he brought it up to kiss in return. “Do you think some desert would make that shoulder feel any better?”

“Hmmmmmm, I think it’s a good start… that might help being sick but maybe you can rub my shoulder later..?” you grinned, knowing you were pushing it, but that hadn’t failed you yet.

A genuine laugh pulled itself from Geralt as he stood, audible and even forming a faint crease around his eyes. For a witcher, it might as well have been a full belly laugh the way their stoic expressions dampen everything.

You beamed and watched your handsome witcher as he headed off to get you dessert. You wouldn’t be surprised if his heart was as golden and lovely as his eyes were. “Hey, Geralt? I love you…”

“I love you too, Dear heart… no matter how soft you make me.” He said with a smile as he came back to your side and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

______________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

#geralt knows how to please you lol #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #The witcher 3 #tw3 geralt #hurt/comfort #geralt fluff #Geralt hurt/comfort

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rc-writes · 11 months

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: benny weir x reader

warnings: one curse word i believe, i say y’all one too many times lol

a/n: this was requested by the same irl friend as my other benny hcs! this blog is going to turn into just a benny fan club soon enough lol. but anyways, i would like to say that in the middle of typing this a roach decided to appear out of nowhere in my room 🙃 that was interesting. also not me writing yet more benny headcanons at 1am. like dude it's bad enough you started appearing in random dreams of mine for a few months (like he’d show up for like to seconds and then dip, or he’d just be in the background and not even say a word) but now you won’t even let me sleep??

you and benny had been friends since middle school

which means you guys have been friends forever in your minds

this also means that the idea of benny liking you or you liking him in more than a friend way, and vice versa, was never a thought that crossed either of y’alls minds

for a while at least

since you were friends with benny that also means by default you’re also friends with ethan

and you three, with the occasional rory appearance, most likely spend an insane amount of time together

i’m talking spending full days playing video games or watching movies, grandma weir loving you, having a love-hate relationship with jane, etc.

this leads me to say that there has to been at least one instance where someone though you were dating one of them

or both

which can go one of two ways

either you’re all stuttering, awkwardly trying to explain you’re just friends

or you all laugh it off because that would be ridiculous right?

right?

i feel like if someone was thought you and benny were together he’d be the type to laugh it off

which would lead to you laughing it off as well because once again that scenario never even crossed either of y’alls minds

benny normally flirts with everyone one he sees, especially if they’re the nerd type

it’s like a second nature at this point

so obviously if he never even attempted to flirt with you that means you two are in fact friends, best friends, bros even, and whatever other words that mean friends

until one day benny’s whole universe flips upside down

the gang was fighting yet another monster of the week as per usual

except this entity was particularly nasty and you ended up getting hurt

like i’m talking needing a quick trip to the er kinda hurt

i can imagine trying to explain what had happened was interesting

turns out you sprained your wrist and had a mild concussion

you were going to be fine but the doctors wanted you to stay over night just incase

but no matter how many times you or anyone else said it benny was not listening

you were literally in the hospital, why was no one else panicking??

you are sitting in a hospital bed!!! with a sprained wrist!! and a concussion!!!!

you’d swear you were dying by his shear panic

he’d feel like shit for not being able to protect you

he literally had magic powers so why was this even happening??

you’ve lost count how many times you had reassured him that it's okay, you can take after yourself

i can see him being like stiles in that one episode of teen wolf where stiles fell asleep in the waiting room for lydia until they kicked him out

grandma weir would have to come pick him up and the entire way home she’s all like 👀 because like yes a best friend will get worried about their friend but this seemed like it could be something more

but knowing grandma i think she’d keep her mouth shut and let him figure it out

it’d be funnier that way

and sure enough in the middle of the night benny wakes up in a cold sweat and is like

????

benny short circuits

he decides to ignore that for the time being

but the next day when you’re released from the hospital ethan suggests that they go see you and benny says no

and ethan’s like?? what happened to him thinking you were dying??

eventually benny confesses to which ethan is now even more ????

after some convincing ethan gets benny to go see you

“dude you guys have been friends forever, nothing’s changed”

“‘nothing’s changed’!?!? what do you mean ‘nothing’s changed’?? everything has changed!!”

cue benny being acting so odd once he gets to your place

which confuses and concerns you since less than 24hrs ago he was acting like you were dying

you questioned ethan about it but he quickly and awkwardly said he had no idea

but the fact that he said it in a higher pitch, stuttering, and way over the top about it, made it clear that he did know something

but you dropped because you knew ethan wasn’t going to snitch on his friend

yet, you thought

new mission unlocked for you: figure out what the hell happened to your best friend over night

benny’s new mission was to make sure by all means that you did not find the answer to that

#mbav #mbav headcanons #benny weir #benny weir headcanons #benny weir imagine #benny weir x reader #my babysitters a vampire #my babysitters a vampire imagine #my babysitters a vampire x reader #my babysitters a vampire headcanons #mbav x reader

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blingblong55 · 5 months

Text

Friendly games-141

Based on a request:

Hi! I’m not sure you would be interested, can I make a request of whole Tf141 x Gn!Reader playing badminton 🏸?

Just a little bit of fun ☺️ ---- GN!Reader, platonic!relationship, fluff??? ----

A/N: I love these kinds of ideas….so lets do this and also…it's short…sorry

Charity events, what a fun way to raise money for those who need it. Well…it's fun until Kate Laswell makes you be a part of the event and play a stupid game in front of your stupid colleagues. Soap, I'm talking about you, Ghost thinks the whole way to the court. Task Force 141, all in shorts, stretching and giving each other stares. You were smiling, this being the first time you could play your favourite with a reason behind it. The day before there was a three-hour-long debate with Laswell to make someone else play instead of the task force.

It didn't work of course since you all were already stretching and glaring at those in attendance. The selection for a teammate was easy and Soap got lucky that Ghost was already tired of his bullshit compliments or else he'd be in your place. Gaz was chosen by Price, Ghost chose you and Soap was a backup for you or anyone who got injured. You and Ghost gave each other a stare, "Don't let me down, R/N." You chuckle, "If you let me down, Soap will take your place." "Hurting me, mate."

Once the game begins, Soap starts making some jokes about Gaz's ass and Price's, occasionally he would roast Ghost and those comments made Laswell laugh. Military families all enjoyed the match as Price and you became more competitive, so much so the match was just you two, Gaz and Ghost just walked around the court, pretending to help or even be involved for that matter. You made it your point to make Price feel old. This all started as an inside joke between the task force and more so when you were called the kid/ baby of the team.

It was worse when Gaz would do a baby voice and try to feed you mashed food. So now, this was you showing off and having fun. After much fun and a pat on the shoulder by Ghost, you walk off and hand the racket to Laswell. "Call Chimera tomorrow, I'm fucking done." You sit down next to Soap and lean on him. "'least you won, mate." You groan and Gaz chuckles. "How much do want to bet Ghost and Price are talking to Laswell to not include us in another charity event?"

"Three pints at Old Man's pub," Soap says with a grin. You all stand up and leave the event. "Where are you guys going?" "Roach, you either join us or stay with the old grumps." Gaz comments as he walks through the doorway. He nods and gladly follows along, it was always an adventure when all of the young ones of the task force went out for drinks. "So, how come you knew the sport so well?" Soap asks you. "I used to play it when I was younger." Gaz lets out a chuckle, "You were one of those kids?" "I'll stick the racket up your ass if you make a joke." You jokingly threaten and he switches places with Roach who is furthest from you.

With one too many pints and jokes, Price found you all laughing at impersonations of the lieutenant and himself. Ghost was about to walk to you all and scare you but then Price stops him. "Let them have this day, they don't get moments like this."

For the entire evening, the younger members of the team all laughed and Ghost watched from afar with Price. "R/N will never stop with the old man jokes." Ghost chuckles. He knows how much you'll enjoy the nicknames you'll eventually call out. He also knows you keep a list for when you finally get to call Price some nicknames that correlate to being old. "I'll let them," Price shrugs. Price too knows this is you just being comfortable around and although no one says it, he sees you as a little sibling and you see him as a trusted older brother.

Tags:

@liyanahelena @imasimpsowhat06 @thisistotesnotspam-heart @luvecarson @aliceinwondwonderland @rhaenryawhore @vincentthe-moneymaker @anonymuslydumb @johfaam0 @goldenmclaren @froggy-anon @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06

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caramelcleopatraa · 3 months

Text

v. SUIT & TIE

word count : 1500~

x : finally fucking got it done. stay tuned for more info about S&T! I'm very excited that it's picking up! ofc, excuse any mistakes you see

content: Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, suggestive themes

You finally made it home and survived the insufferable teasing from your friends. You truly loved your job and the joy that your products gave people, but you forgot how much of a toll your job had on you until you stepped into your home. You let out a heavy sigh and drug yourself across your living room to your room. You put your purse down on the nightstand and immediately changed into a crop tank top and some short shorts. You were about to sit on your bed when you saw a white slip of paper poking out of your purse that you didn’t notice until now. Thoughts ran through your mind of all the people that you ran into today and who could’ve gone near your purse. The entire time that you were working, it was in the faculty room.

Usually, you would say that situations like this is “white people shit”, until a thought crosses your mind. ‘Could it be someone trying to order something? Or maybe they’re setting me up in a trap?’

‘Or maybe it’s Roman..’

You slowly took the slip of paper and unfolded it, and you immediately got your answer.

‘xxx-xxx-xxxx

i’m interested to see how the CEO acts outside of work’

You relax and sit on your bed, pulling out your laptop to manage some electronic papers and answer emails. ’Should I call him?’ You were never the type to get attached to people, but he was so enticing. He sure as hell doesn't just give his phone number out to anyone. He’s always busy, always has matters to take care of. So of course he’s not going to call some random girl that he ate out in a private dressing room. Maybe he just got you caught up.. and he wanted to have fun. Maybe it’s not as deep as you think it is. But you still can’t hold back that urge to call him. You unconsciously squeeze your thighs together and fumble through your purse to find your phone. Eagerly, you punched in the numbers and laid your phone on the bed, putting it on speaker. It rang a couple of times before you heard commotion on the other side of the line.

“Hello?”

“So, you slip a note in my purse with your number in it, and then don’t know I'm calling you?” Your joke amuses him as he chuckles in response. “Well you’re not the only one calling my phone, mama.” That was a name you could get used to.

“What’s with all of the commotion in the back?” He takes a minute to respond to the question , before two loud gunshots are fired. “Just taking care of some roaches,” Roman says smugly. You hear him tell someone goodbye and all the commotion is no longer present. It’s just you and him.

“How was work?” Roman asks. “Stressful. But I can't complain. I love what I do.” You were working yourself overtime. Pushing yourself to the limit. You didn’t like leaving your work up to someone else to finish. When it came to your business, you were never the lazy type. “Would you like me to help you release some stress?” You stop typing momentarily to process what he said.

“Technically, you already did this morning, so I owe you,” you flirted back, fantasizing about what could happen the next time you guys see each other. “Appreciate the offer, but you don’t owe me. I’ll ease your mind whenever you need me to.”

Saying that your heart fluttered was an understatement. Ever since you met him, he's made you do nothing but smile. “For you to be a mafia boss, you're such a gentleman.”

“I can’t treat women with respect?” Roman questions. “No, it’s just a rare combo from someone of your stature”

“I bet the hoes must love you.” You nestle under the covers and turn your tv on. You hear Roman scoff on the other side of the line. “I don't chase hoes, I let them chase me.” ‘This cocky motherfucker’

“So what is De’arra to you? Cause it seems like she's walking alongside you.” You didn't realize that the sentence would make you sound possessive or possibly jealous, but you were genuinely curious. “Is that jealousy I hear?” Jealous? You? Never in your life have you ever been the jealous type over a man. You’re the type that gets even. “Don't try me like that. I can’t ask a question?”

“It’s ok to be jealous, sweetheart,” Roman teases. Once again, you could hear his smirk in his tone. Were you sounding jealous? You weren't… Right? “Imma hang the phone up on you.” Your response makes Roman laugh. His rich voice makes you shiver, sending tingles down your body. “Relax, Relax, I'm joking. I told you this morning that De’arra just around me for my money. She keeps trying to lure me into her bed, and she fails everytime. Does that make you feel better?” Honestly it did, you felt a lot better. “I don’t mess with taken men.”

“Lucky for you, I ain’t taken” His confident tone eased your mind of any lingering thought of De’arra, but you still wanted to know who she was. “So what's her deal? This is the first time I'm hearing about her, and I know a lot of people.”

“She’s a part of the Washington family and they're stationed in Cali. Her father retired down here in Florida, and tried to contact me about business, but I wouldn't budge. Then, he sent his daughter down to one of my warehouses and she’s been attached to me ever since.” This sounded like a man trying to use his daughter to lure someone in to potentially weakening their power. It's a cheap trick, but some people are dumb enough to fall for things like this. “Sounds like he’s using his daughter to get close to you.” A strained sigh could be heard on the other side of the line. “I'm not paying attention to her. I already guessed she was on some shady shit when I found out she was a Washington.”

“Just be careful, you don't know what she’s gonna do or what she's up to.”

“Aww, look at you all worried about me.” You groaned at his teasing. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything, I can take care of this. And if I need some help, you’ll be the first person I call.” You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing demeanor once more. Both of you knew that he could take care of business on his own, but it amused him all the more at how you looked out for him. “I gotta go, I have a meeting in 5.”

“Ok, talk to you later.” He hung up the phone after your sentence and you quickly grabbed it to open the phone app again. You typed in a series of numbers that you knew all too well, the phone number to the Hayes residence. If you didn't have the information on something, you were sure that they had it. The phone rings for a while until a man picks up the phone.

“Yo.”

“Hey Carmelo, is Mercedes home?”

“Yeah, she’s right next to me, hold on.” You wait a couple of seconds until another voice answers the phone, but this time it’s a woman. “Ms. Semele?”

“Hey Mercedes, I hope I'm not bothering you.” You adjusted yourself to sit up comfortably in your bed, while still holding the phone in your hand. “You mind doing a background check for me?” Mercedes chuckles darkly and replies, “It's gonna cost ya.”

“Girl you know I got the funds, dont play with me.” Mercedes laughs loudly this time. Money talk was her favorite thing, and she did anything for the money. “Alright, who am I looking at?” “De’arra Washington.”

“Alright, got it, I'll call you around 10 in the morning tomorrow and let you know what I find.” You typed in the desired amount of money she wanted and typed in her address so that the money could be sent straight to her door in cash. “Alright talk to you later.”

You laid back down on your back and stared at the ceiling recapping the entire day in your head. You still can't wrap your head around De’arra though. It's strange that she came into your shop just as someone is threatening the Anoa’i territory. You hate having feelings like this, and they never ended up good. You knew you had to be careful around her, cause she doesn't seem like she’s here to just look pretty. You felt it, you knew it. It goes much deeper than that.

🏷️ tags :) @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

Welcome to your new addiction

#roman reigns #carmenreigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns x you #[ s & t ]#[ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧･ﾟ: * the bankk ✧･ﾟ:* ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ]

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cinebration · 2 years

Text

Only Ours (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Request]

Geralt x fem!reader. Old friends find each other again after many years apart. Used to be lovers or almost lovers (up to you) that parted ways due to circumstances out of their control. They still care for each other a great deal and reminisce about their past together and what could've been. Can end up together or not. Not looking for angst per se, more just wistful, bittersweet tone. Thank you!—Requested by anon

Warnings: none

Gif Source: lamberts

In all the taverns in all the world, you walked into the one Geralt had been forced to take refuge in to give Roach a rest and to escape the rain. He noticed you first—not because he saw you, but because your familiar scent constricted his chest and made his nostrils flare. Glancing up from under his damp hood, he tracked your movements across the tavern as you went up to the barkeep and slapped coins onto the bar, calling out an order of thighs and a flagon of ale.

The barkeep happily obliged.

Balancing your plate in one hand and clutching your flagon in the other, you surveyed the dearth of available tables.

Geralt tensed as your attention moved closer and closer to him. The pain in his chest tightened, made it hard to breathe. He desperately wanted you to notice him, while at the same time he wanted to hide.

He remained frozen.

Your gaze passed over him, then shifted back, recognition dawning instantly. A faint, tentative smile pulled on your lips as you slowly made your way over.

You looked better than he remembered. He didn’t understand how—you were no sorceress—but the fact remained you did. He pushed off the hood as you reached the table and set down your dishes, your eyes never leaving his.

“Geralt,” you murmured, surprise and hesitation in your mellifluous voice.

He murmured your name back, the sound of it sacred on his lips. He hadn’t spoken it since you last parted years before.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” you continued, your voice still soft, as though afraid to spook him like a deer. “How long has it been?”

“Eight years, give or take.” The rasp of his words sounded worse than usual, perhaps worse.

“Closer to nine, I think.”

And Geralt knew you had been counting, just like he had.

Staring down into his tankard, he watched the foam shift as the liquid sloshed underneath it. The din of the tavern faded to the background, all his attention arrested by your presence. The smell of you, the close proximity, made his head spin.

“You look good,” you said.

He chuffed a laugh. “For a right bastard.”

Chuckling, you bit into the chicken thigh, chewed as you scrutinized his face. He wondered what you saw there, anxiety sparking beneath his skin the longer you looked. Would you see the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf? Or would you only see him, as you always had before?

“I hear stories of hard times for you.”

A chill slithered down his spine. “Still a mind reader, I see.”

“Your eyes don’t lie, Witcher.”

Grunting, he shrugged and covered his expression with a long swallow of his ale.

“Well, there’re stories of hard times for me, too,” you added when he set his tankard down. The momentary flicker of a haunted look in your eyes made his fist clench tighter around the tankard. “But I’ve no interest in recounting those and ruining the evening.”

“I’m told talking helps,” he noted dryly.

“Not here.” You gestured with your chin at the other patrons in the tavern. “Prying ears and all that.”

He nodded. “What do we talk about, then?”

A sly smile pulled at your lips. “Did you ever find that griffin?”

Snorting, he shook his head. “Low-hanging fruit, mind reader.”

“What? No reunion is complete without mention of the griffin!”

“Give it a rest.”

“So I take it you did not find it.”

“No, I did.”

You waited for an elaboration. The faintest smirk touched his mouth. “You didn’t take it out, I know that. I would’ve heard, what with that bard immortalizing you and whatnot.”

He remained silent, enjoying the agitation building up in you.

“Pfft. If I had to guess, you found it and got new scars for your trouble with no head for a prize.”

The smirk faltered.

“I knew it!”

“Mind reader,” he groused, but his eyes were bright with amusement.

“See, should’ve had me by your side for that. Maybe I would have taken its head while you gave it new meat to chew on.”

“Hardly. You would be lucky to snatch a few feathers.”

Clicking your tongue in disagreement, you countered, “No way am I doing that again.”

“How disappointing. I rather enjoyed watching you prance around.”

You laughed. “I bet you did!”

Geralt offered another chuffed laugh, feeling himself filling with the warmth of your presence and the brightness of your smile. Neither had he ever forgotten, but his memory didn’t compare to the flesh-and-blood vision before him.

“I’ve missed you,” you said, reading his mind once again.

He didn’t know how to answer that, the tightness in his chest making it hard to breathe, let along speak. You nodded as though you knew his response, however, and offered him a smile that threatened to shatter him.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

You glanced up from your plate, then shrugged. “We didn’t have a choice, Geralt.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not an acceptable one.”

“Acceptable varies by degrees.”

“I know,” you whispered, staring down at your food. Shaking your head, you looked back up at him, regret fading into a rueful smile. “But it didn’t kill us, the separation.”

“Something died.”

Silence weighed heavy in the space between you.

You sighed quietly. “Things are what they are. I’ve accepted that.”

He grunted, not trusting his words.

“Still, sometimes I think about…I never did work up the nerve, did I?”

“Your nerve was never in question.”

“I’m not blaming you. I could have taken the initiative as much as you.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “We both were too afraid.”

You nodded, the rueful smile returning. “Funny how much that fear pales in comparison to the things we’ve seen in the last few years.”

Grunting again, he lifted his tankard and met your gaze. Lifting yours, you clinked the metal cups softly, the ringing sound of their meeting subdued.

“I’m surprised the bard doesn’t know the story,” you said after swallowing a sip of the ale. “Our story, if that’s what we can call it.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Why not? It’s exactly the kind of thing bards would kill to sing about.”

“Because it’s ours,” Geralt growled. “Only ours.”

#Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of Rivia imagine #Geralt x Reader #Geralt #Geralt imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #The Witcher #requests

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hurrraaid · 11 months

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Hello, I was wondering if you have any plans to write the cryptid hunter Soap/cryptid Roach au? I’m just very, very interested in what’s going on over there. 👀

I can't write for shit but pls accept the rambled plot ideas I had on twitter

Soap being a cryptid hunter (yes this idea was created purely to give me an excuse to draw long hair soap). Starts hearing talk about some shapeshiftng creature up in the highlands and is like hell yeah home turf.

Manages to actually come across the creature one night and is fully enamoured by it and desperate to make contact but he loses it in the woods. Tries to retrace his steps following day and coming across a cabin with two stupidly tall brits living in it.

Stupidly tall brits being ghost and roach. Childhood friends turned lovers. Roach being the shapeshifter who has been like it his whole life. Struggled to keep it hidden so ghost suggested moving up north for the isolation.

Soap suddenly convinced ghost is the shapeshifter since he’s standoffish and very shifty. Not like his nice quiet partner who hasn’t said anything but seems friendly. He decides he’ll be sneaky and befriend roach to get to ghost.

Spends most of their time together gushing over how beautiful the creature is, which leaves roach a flustered mess cuz other than ghost no one has ever found that side of him beautiful and now this dumb Scotsman is sat sketching out his form from memory all 💕💕💕

Ghost also not immune to this annoyingly persistent Scotsman who no matter how many times he chases off he keeps coming back. Especially when soap keeps insisting he’d never betray ghost OR roach. And ghosts sees how happy roach is with him.

All three slowly just letting their walls down (ghost slower than the others and with a lot of reassurance and support from roach) until the truth comes out and soap is completely flabbergasted that roach was the shapeshifter all along.

No energy to draw but followup idea of soap being convinced it's ghost because the creature has a prominent back scar in all forms and ghost is covered in scars.

Ghosts scars coming from roach losing control

Roach's back scar coming from being attacked in shifted form

#cryptid hunter au

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doggoboigaugau · 1 year

Text

Stray dog (Part 5)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male reader

Summary: A person from the past appeared in front of Male reader, and they would have to work together on the new mission. It was not a comfortable reunion.

Word count: 3323 words

Warning: Mention of self-h4rm behaviors.

Price had announced that on the next mission your team was going to collaborate with another team from Russia, mainly because the location of the mission would be a little bit challenging, and you would need assistance from people who were accustomed to that kind of condition for safety and efficiency. Informed that the new mission would be a tough one, you and the other men of the team had been training especially hard to prepare for it. Ghost’d been helping you and Roach with improving your close combat skills against big men as your enemies would be the Russian “bears”–a nickname given to them due to their considerable height and exceptionally powerful physique.

Soap was standing from afar, watching you and Ghost on the sparring ground with amusement as the smaller you tried to pin the towering Brit down. It was then that Price approached him and said, “The Russian team who we’ll work with will arrive at 1400. I have a meeting with the higher-ups concerning the mission at that hour, so you tell Ghost and Y/n to go greet them.”

“Can I tag along, Cap’?” Soap smirked.

“Do whatever the hell you want, just don’t act stupid like usual. Save me some face.” Price shrugged and hurried to leave the room, not allowing Soap a single chance to bite back.

Soap was about to curse at the older man when a roar of applause attracted his whole attention. He turned his eyes back to the sparring ground, and his mouth lifted in a broad, proud smile the moment he saw you sitting on top of Ghost, your hands gripping him by the wrists and your legs pinning those of his own. The recruits were screaming, whistling, and jumping in excitement, which was an understandable reaction of them given all the fear and respect Ghost had earned from the sparring ground during the training. Every time new groups of recruits arrived, in the very first training, that masked man always made sure to literally kick some newbies’ asses in front of everyone as a way to warn them and keep them in the right place. Sometimes some men of higher rankings would challenge Ghost as well, but of course none of them ever won.

“You won.” Ghost looked up at you, his eyes, which were the only thing not covered by his skull mask, softened almost like those of a proud big brother.

“I think you have a soft spot for me, Ghost. You underperform to let me win.” You released his wrists, pouting a bit at the thought of Ghost deliberately letting you win.

Then, your body shuddered as you could feel his touch on your inner thigh, “I never do that for anyone, even if it’s you or Soap.”

His eyes were burning, the man beneath you, and for a moment you were taken back to that early morning in the TV room when his hand caressed your cheek, drew a gentle, burning line from your neck down to your lower back, and then snaked under your shirt to fondle your warm flesh. You jumped, standing up so quick that your body almost lost balance and fell outside of the sparring ring, the alarm run off inside your head as you feared that he might know. He might know so damn well that you had already been awake at the moment he showed love interest in you and your body, and he was also aware you were pretending you hadn’t realized that.

“Sir, are you okay?” A recruit that was standing near the ring held the sides of your arms to help you regain balance.

“Hah, I’m fine. Thank you.” Your timid and soft nature made you turn your head and smile at him, only for you to find out that this boy was a head taller than you, and from the position that the two of you were in right now, it looked like you were nestling into his embrace.

Your face turned bright red at the realization, but before your brain could come up with the most normal and “no homo” way to sneak out of this awkward situation, a strong hand grabbed the collar of your shirt and lifted you up.

“What the hell–? Ghost, put me the fuck down!” The man dragged you out of the arms of the recruit and down to the ground below the sparring ring. No matter how hard you were punching and kicking him, which was almost nothing to his thick skin, he continued to walk to where Soap was standing, unbothered by your resistance. Soap laughed so hard at the sight of him holding you up like a cat–and you’re a grumpy one–that the man fell to the ground, hugging his belly.

“You’re such a dramatic bitch, Soap. I hate you two.”

“We love you too.” Soap winked at you. “OK, no more jokes. Your dad was just here, Y/n, he told us to welcome the Russian team at 1400.”

“My dad…?” You panicked at the two words, a familiar and frightening face emerged from the depth of your memories and filled your head.

“Who else besides Price? Why do you look so scared?” Soap’s facial expression dropped for a moment, realizing that he might have mentioned a disturbing piece of your past.

“Nothing. Let’s get lunch before they arrive. Ghost, put me down!” You pretended to miss Soap’s question and came back to throwing your fits and kicks to the larger man who was built like a fridge.

Fortunately, Soap didn’t intend to pry either, “No, no, don’t put him down hahaha. Let’s get to the kitchen like this.”

“No fucking way! Put me down!!!”

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

The Russian team finally arrived. You, Soap and Ghost went to the ground outside of the base where the helicopter would be dropping them.

“I heard they’re very huge, like you, Ghost.” Soap chatted.

“What with all the fucking tall people.” You mumbled, clearly not amused by the fact you’d keep being the shortest one in any of the teams you were and would be working with.

“I feel you, boy.” Soap put a hand on your shoulder, and you were almost touched by him trying to be understanding when he proceeded to say, “I used to be the shortest one, but luckily you and Roach have taken my place.”

“God damn it, Soap Mactavish!!!” You nearly threw yourself at the man, and finally Ghost had to step in between you two to prevent any embarrassing occurrences in front of the very eyes of another team that could forever change the image of Task Force 141 in the stories people had been telling.

The helicopter was roaring above your head, and as it landed, you felt Ghost’s strong hand again on your bare skin, or specifically the nape of your neck. You glowered at him since you knew damn well what this man was thinking that led him to do this kind of gesture, “I’m not gonna be blown away, Ghost.” You couldn’t–and hell you didn’t want to–recall the first time the men of 141 did this to you, being unnecessarily worried about your light weight and slender body, always acting as if you’d be blown away, broken apart, or kidnapped the very moment they didn’t notice.

“Better safe than sorry.” His eyes looked down at you for a few seconds before lifting up to meet those of the Captain of the Russian team who was heading their way.

Ghost obviously heard your murmured curses at him, but chose to ignore to exchange a handshake with the Captain.

“Nice to meet you, the legendary 141. I’m Captain Alfred.” The man smiled amiably. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties and you could almost sense from him the same vibe as from Price. ‘Seriously, are all the Captains like this?’

“Ghost.”

“Of course I know who you are. All the three of you.” He eyed the three of you, from Soap on the left to Ghost in the middle, and then to you. “Especially you, Private Y/n.”

“Huh?” You were lost for a moment. What did he mean by that, especially you?? Were there any bad rumors about you that had been circling around without your notice?

“Why do you look so bewildered?” Alfred chuckled. “My Private has been speaking so fondly of you, Y/n. Ever since he’s transferred to my team. The kid was so shy about sharing his past but you were the only exception. Fyodor, come here!”

Fyodor…

Oh.

Fyodor.

Your heart skipped a bit. It almost felt impossible to breathe normally at that present. For no tangible reason, your vision went blurred and you were taken–no, more like violently hit by a train–back to one of the times in the past that you had been successfully burying deep into your consciousness, or at least it was what you thought so.

His likable smile. His silly laughter. His stupid humor. His Russian-rich English accent. His breath lingered with the smell of the cheap cigarettes that you two shared your little money to purchase at a convenience store which now had been replaced by a coffee shop. You had fooled yourself that it was easy to forget him, and forget all the slow, calm moments you spent with him outside of that convenience store, talking away all the past trauma, the intolerable pressure life put on the tired shoulders of two young men who were forced into adult lives too soon. You had fooled yourself that it was easy to forget your feelings for him as well as your desire for something between you which was destined to never happen.

And now he was here, in front of you. His strong build and massive body still carried the smell of the exact cheap cigarette brand from when you were close. The version of a world–empty but manageable–inside of you crumbled, and once again you felt like you were the heart-broken boy in that damn night, lonely and heart-wrenchingly pathetic, sitting alone in the balcony at 3AM in the morning, ignoring the fact that you’d have to wake up in two hours for a training to smoke two whole packs of cigarettes to repress your overwhelming emotions. A piece of screwed-up paper sat quietly at your feet that night, and it was from him. Fyodor.

“Hi, Y/n.”

“Fyodor.” You nodded, your face looked as cold and expressionless as ever, till the point that Alfred thought he was seeing a smaller version of Ghost.

“What is this? I thought you two used to be close friends as recruits?” Alfred blurted. He was exactly like a father who was trying to make his child get along with another kid.

Soap shrugged it off, “Well, I guess our boy Y/n here may get influenced a little bit too much by his admirable Lieutenant. After all, Ghost is just a legend here. Everyone wants to be as good as he is.”

Alfred laughed out loud, “Well, I guess!”

“Shut up, Soap. Let’s get back to the base.” Ghost said to Alfred.

“Alright boys and girls, follow Lieutenant Ghost.”

You glowered at Fyodor before turning your back on him and following your Lieutenant. You despised yourself for doing so, seeing that Fyodor was still the kind and quiet boy as he always was, while you just became more and more selfish and sinister day after day for being consumed with bitter jealousy. You knew you were angry at him for nothing, it was not his fault in any way, but you could not stop yourself from doing so. You would never forget that night, being wide awake until the morning after, fighting with the inner demons every fucking second to keep yourself alive from your own hands. Neither could you stop feeling it was not fair for you, trapped with feelings that could never be relieved, while he could go out anywhere, hitting on and getting any girls he wanted.

It just hurt so bad.

And you were so fucking stupid for falling for a straight dude, a hot one even, with a smooth mouth that never failed to attract any women.

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

Ghost led all of you to Price’s room. He knocked on the door to inform Price that you had arrived and opened it for everyone to get in.

“We will have a brief meeting about the next mission, and tomorrow at 0500 we will hop on a helicopter to get transferred to the target location, that’s where we will have some training together to get my team familiar with the weather condition before getting into the real fight.” Price perfectly asserted himself in front of the Russian team with confidence and dominance.

As the meeting went, your eyes locked on Price’s face and the projector screen, but at the same time you couldn’t help watching Fyodor from your peripheral vision. He stood there attentively listening to you two’s Captains, and whenever he was quiet like that, the man always gave off a kind of passively intimidating vibe, like a bear enjoying his peaceful slumber that would turn into a furious monster and easily bite your head off if you dared to disturb his sleep. During the whole meeting, he did not look at you for once, and to be honest, it made you feel horrible. That was just it, right? Everything that used to be going on between you was just a complicated lie that man had been weaving to lead you around like the stupid laughable loser you were.

“I will always be here for you bro.”

“If there is anything, just tell me. I’ll always try to help you as much as I can.”

“You mean a lot to me.”

“I will never give up on you.”

Lovely words they might sound. But you’d learnt the hard way that those were just downright lies and hollow promises. Your ‘brother-like’ relationship was as fragile as a thread that when the smallest unpredictable thing happened, it tore apart. When you stopped being a useful weapon or a great listener to be taken advantage of and showed your broken heart and bleeding soul, you stopped being of value to him, and he would withdraw his effort put on your relationship and start to hang out with the other recruits.

The funny thing was it was not the worst you had been through, because during your childhood you’d been literally through hell. It was not the reason why you two ended up like this, you asking to be transferred to anywhere but that base and leaving him behind, and him getting over the loss of your presence too quickly by being sent back to his home country, Russia. The real cause of it was because you accidentally fell for him, a straight man who had a pretty impressive number of body counts. You’d known that he was straight right from the start of your situationship, but you couldn’t help it. The way he called your name. The way he looked at you as you shared about your traumatized past with so much care in those dark eyes. The way he seldomly touched your shoulder, grabbed your arm to drag you around. Along with some trivial moments you spent with him that probably meant nothing to him but so much to you. Like when he tried to include you in the conversation with other recruits. Or when he laughed at your jokes. Or when he held the lighter in his big hand, lighting the cigarette that was in between your lips for you. You had never been showered with that amount of intricate care and love from any men before that you felt weak in your knees. You could not help falling for him.

As the meeting was announced over, you almost stormed out of the room. Tears were threatening to brim over your eyes and you could not afford anyone to see that, especially Fyodor. You turned your back to everyone else there so fast, and as a result you missed the worried look of your team, as well as Fyodor’s.

Running to somewhere quiet and normally no one would pass by, you put your trembling hand into your pocket, fumbling for the pack of cigarettes to try to put yourself together by smoking it away. And before you knew it, the head of the cigarette was already pressed against the skin of your arm. You exhaled in relief, feeling thankful that the temporary pain on your flesh always succeeded in repressing the agonizing pain inside your heart. You threw that extinguished cigarette down to the ground and violently stepped on it, as if it was that same piece of paper that Fyodor sent you on that night, almost begging you to call him back to talk and resolve whatever conflict you two were finding yourselves in. You lit another cigarette, and were about to press it on your arm against until a strong hand grab the wrist of your hand that was holding the cigarette.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You heard the angry howl from the Brit.

“Let me go.” You murmured.

“Private, I’m asking you. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?” Ghost heavily seethed out every word.

“Y/n… why are you doing this?” Soap arrived a few seconds later than Ghost, and in contrast to the masked man, he was trying to be soft to talk you out of this behavior.

“Let me fucking go. Why do you care so much??” Your stomach was burning with how much indignation you were having. Sensing the Brit’s grip on your wrist was as firm as a rock, you growled in your throat and bared your teeth at the two men like a disturbed stray dog.

“Why do you keep pushing us away then? Why do you refuse our care and love?” Soap reached out his arm to touch you in an attempt to somehow calm you down, but quickly withdraw it back as he saw you set your jaw.

“I don’t fucking need your kindness! Whatever the fuck you’re doing, it’s only out of pity. Now let me the fuck go!!!” You got extremely violent and began to do absolutely anything to make the Brit let you go. You screamed at him, scratched his arms, punched his face, kicked his legs. Your aggressiveness definitely took the two men aback as they wondered how much rage must be stored inside that small body of you to make you behave like an absolute wild animal.

“What is going on here?” Price and Alfred arrived at the scene, and behind him was the rest of the two teams, which certainly included Fyodor.

You could see how he was looking at you at the moment. Bewildered eyes and a terrified face. Everyone else here was with those kinds of expressions. Nice. Absolutely fucking nice. Now you were like a fucking joke in front of everyone. The utmost shame and anger filled your whole body and made your blood boil, and suddenly you were fueled with the most destructible power ever–the primitive force when an animal was pushed near the verge of extinction, when it realized that if whatever was happening kept happening, it would die. And that was the scariest power ever, what one could do when they realized they had nothing else to lose.

You could not remember much about what occurred after that. Everything flashed before your own eyes, and the only two things that your five senses could make out of was the pained expression on Simon’s face and his reddened eyes. Another thing was how you run off from that place where everyone was surrounding you and watching you as if they were the concerned citizens and you were the rabid stray dog being restrained by officers from the animal control and welfare service in the broad daylight.

to be continued...

:)) the reason why this part is so long i bc im having the second mental breakdown in the month and have come back to skipping meals and smoking 2 packs of cigarettes every day.

Taglist: @q8852p

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basicbunnyboo · 2 months

Text

I Would

A Lucifer x Reader Fic

A.N. I am so sorry about the lack of posts. Next up will be a Vox x Reader, probably with yandere vibes because that seems to be a point of interest. Let me know if any of you have ideas, requests, headcanons, etc I’d love to hear from you all

A fight with Reader’s mentor goes wrong and Lucifer helps them pick up the pieces.

It wasn’t new. The whole “taking someone in to mold them in their image”. I knew it wasn’t the healthiest. How she would correct anything that wasn’t in the way she wanted. Posture, wording, smile, emotions. Anything. But I’m her favorite. I’ve never been someone’s favorite.

She took me in. She taught me. How to survive. How to thrive in Hell. I couldn’t just… leave. She didn’t have my soul, but she didn’t need it. I was her child. Her favorite.

I needed her. And she needed me.

Right?

————

This hotel was a waste. There would be nothing to come from this. Just the opportunity to get close to Miss Princess. And who better to send than her protégée?

“Dear.”

They perked up, “Yes, miss?”

A small smile, straight posture, slight exhaustion showing, but she’ll excuse it.

She lifted their chin, looking them over, “Have you heard about the little hotel Ms. Morningstar is hosting?”

“No, miss. Would you like me to look into it?”

She smiled, gently patting the side of their cheek, “No need. I just need you to go and watch over. The Morningstars would be a valuable asset if you can win over the princess. Can you do that for me?”

They nodded, their smile never fading, “Of course, miss.”

“Good.”

————

Oh fuck.

I’m screwed.

She asked one simple thing. Get close to Charlie Morningstar. And I did that.

But she’s so… nice. How is the princess of Hell so nice?

I thought it was a ruse to convince sinners to come, try to redeem themselves, and then she would swoop in and make a deal. Her assistance for… something

But no. She’s just nice.

Nice.

Not just her. Vaggie and her awkward but genuine assistance, Angel with his comfort, Husk with his advice, Pen with his little gifts, Al with his gentle words, Nif with her roach-themed crowns, and Lucifer.

The root of the problem.

King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar. Leader of the Pride Ring.

An absolute nerd. Adorable dork. Duck enthusiast.

“Hey! I finished Charlie’s gift, but I think something is missing. What do you think?”

He sat on the counter as I stayed in my seat. He continued listing off how he made the duck. What kind it was, what he thought was cool about it, and then some.

And I couldn’t focus on a damn thing he said.

“What do you think?”

That stupid smile. When was the last time I saw a genuine smile outside of this fucked up hotel?

I smiled softly as I gazed at him, “It’s perfect.”

He nodded, his view focused on the duck, “Okay. I trust you.”

Trust me. That’s stupid. This is Hell, you can’t trust anyone.

“Actually, maybe a bow tie?”

He lit up, giving me that bright smile again, “Perfect! This is why I come to you.”

He hopped off to go to his workshop. I just sat there and watched him leave like some lovesick puppy.

Pathetic.

“Heya, toots.”

“Don’t you even say it.”

Angel sat down next to me with the usual shit-eating grin, “Say what? That you two should just fuck already?”

My head hit the counter.

“Look,” he sighed, “I know how… she can be. But you shouldn’t let that bi- er, let her rule your life.”

I stayed silent.

She was everything. She gave me everything. How could I leave her for something as stupid as an emotion?

Angel sighed, rubbing my back.

————

He knew he couldn’t talk. He fought back to Val and he got a bloody nose and a death sentence.

But he was his favorite. Val wouldn’t kill him, but damnit he would prefer it.

————

“But dad, she does! Everybody sees it!”

Lucifer fidgeted with his old wedding ring.

He hadn’t worn it for a over month.

Was it really that long ago?

“I don’t know, Charlie. She’s too…”

“Too?”

He sighed dramatically as he leaned back, looking over his actual latest duck. He only showed them his ‘Charlie duck’ because he wanted to talk to them.

Hell, he was pathetic…

He had been married before. He should know how to be smooth.

Granted, she left him. For some reason she seemed to forget to share. Out of nowhere. Leaving him alone. With Charlie. A daughter that she purposefully tried to seperate him from… But she loved him. At least once.

Right?

“But you guys are so cute,” Charlie pouted as she leaned back on his bed, throwing her hands in the air, “I look over and you’re looking at her with that huge smile and they look back when you look away and it’s all so close but you won’t say anything and they won’t say anything and-”

A knock on the door paused her ramble, “Babe? You in there? Alastor has something he wants to show you.”

Charlie perked up, “Oh, uh…”

She looked to her dad, to which he nodded with a small smile. She smiled back and left, giving him a thumbs up.

————

The duck was similar to the others. A likeness to them, but there was a small golden apple on their head.

He couldn’t explain why he wanted to add it. But they looked good in gold. And the apple was his staple.

It definitely wasn’t his subconscious wanting to see them with a golden ring. And it certainly wasn’t him wanting a matching one.

Of course not.

————

She was smiling. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Darling, I don’t usually ask much of you. But this?” She held up the small duck, “I thought you were better than this.”

How the fuck did she find that?

“Normally,” she walked down towards me, looking over the duck, “I would have you removed from that little hotel. But if you could get the King of Hell waiting on you, then-“

“No.”

…

What the fuck did I just do?

“No?”

I paused. I was glaring at her. When did I do that? I bowed my head, trying to regain whatever respect I had left.

“I… my apologies, miss. But…”

She took a few more steps, “But?” Lifting my chin she made me look at her, “Tell me. Why is my favorite darling refusing me something so simple?”

Favorite.

A chill ran down my spine. Stiff, nervous, afraid.

Afraid?

Why should I be afraid? I’m her favorite. She said so.

Favorite.

“I don’t…” I cleared my throat, “I shouldn’t. I… He’d figure me out. He might be out of the field, but he’s not stupid.”

It was true.

She stared me down. I wasn’t telling her the real reason and she knew it. She knew it. She knew me.

“Fine.”

I looked up, confused, “Wha-”

“Either you do this for me,” she caressed my face, “or you leave. I can’t bare to see you become such a disgrace.” Her grip was tight.

A disgrace.

But I’m her favorite.

Aren’t I?

She’d forgive me. Just this once.

Right?

“You don’t have to respond,” she pat my cheek as she started to walk away, “but if you don’t come back with a good status report, don’t bother coming back at all.”

Nearly 20 minutes passed before I could move.

————

“Hello?”

They hadn’t responded to anything. Charlie hadn’t seen them so… out of it. She’d seen Angel Dust like this once when Val had his… fun. But them? They had their soul. Did something happen? Did they need a hug?

“Do you want-”

They walked past me. It was like they couldn’t see me.

Weird.

————

How did he get here?

They were hugging him like a small stuffed animal. Their face in his neck and-

Fuck. When was the last time someone was this close to him? Comfortably close. It felt like years. It felt nice. He felt nice.

He felt safe.

His ducks made him feel safe. He always had his ducks.

He thought Lilith made him feel safe. She made him feel excited, happy, even confident at times. But never safe.

So what was different?

Well, for one, they were sobbing earlier. They couldn’t talk, so he sat next to them and offered a hug. It’s easy to see what happened next.

He started running the tips of his fingers up and down their back, holding them just a bit tighter.

“It’ll be okay,” he sighed, kissing their forehead, “I got you.”

————

“I got you.”

It was so gentle.

I got you.

He did. He was right there for me.

Why?

Did I even deserve it?

Why does he care so much?

Did he want something from me?

No, that’s not him.

That I know.

So…

Why?

————

They fell asleep.

On him.

They never sleep in front of people.

Maybe he’s overthinking it. Maybe they’re just really tired. Maybe they just needed a quick fix.

That’s it. Of course it is. Nobody needs him. Not for long. Just enough to get by and get something better.

Something better than-

“Luci?”

Luci?

He liked having a nickname.

He pulled their hair out of their face, “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

…

“Anything.”

The, I’d do anything for you, died on his tongue.

————

“Anything.”

Why?

Why me?

Why him?

Was I worth it?

“Hey.”

I hummed, still not able to talk.

“She’s not worth it.”

What?

“I’ve seen you, known you, for months. You don’t need to keep yourself waiting on someone who doesn’t care about you,” he sighed. His hand pulled them closer to him. “You deserve someone who loves you. If they love you, they won’t try to change you.”

“And who the Hell do you know would do that? This is Hell, Lucifer.”

“I would.”

…

“What?”

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