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honey-milk-depresso · 4 months

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hello love, i adore your work.

could i get something with the batboys with a spider woman reader?

💜💜

I’m making them spiderperson cuz gotta stay GN for everyone to self insert themselves 🩷

BUT YEAHHDHWIAHFOAJDKSJX MORE BATFAM REQUESTS >:)))

Requests open until 1 Feb (GMT 8+)! Please read the rules on my pinned post (provided the navi post link to go to rules). Thank you!🩷🩷

***S/o is above 18, which means characters below are also aged up!

Batbros with a Spider-S/o

Dick Grayson

He loves you! You manoeuvre in the air and swing about just like him! Just that you got webs, cool!

Definitely joins you in hanging upside down, also loving to compete with you (lovingly) to see who can jump the farthest, or who can do the most bomb-tastic somersault with you and you guys have so much fun during patrol it’s not even patrol anymore.

Beating bad guys in the most dramatic, acrobatic way possible is definitely something Bruce and the rest of the brothers all sigh collectively because you two can be pretty chaotic.

But whatever, you two have so much fun jumping around.

Has taken you out on dates as Nightwing and your spider-sona, because even people around the city thinks you two are a match made in heaven. I imagined a pizza guy giving them a box and saying for them to have fun while swinging around with Dick and having pizza in between your teeth while you race to see who can reach the far end of a street whilst swinging and stunting about.

Overall, you two make a loveable couple of acrobats. <3

Jason Todd

He thought you were annoying at first, but even he can’t deny you make his day (most of the time).

He feels a bit irritated yet amused whenever you hang upside down and playfully greet him or joke with him while on patrol, sometimes in secret which scares the shit out of him when you pop out of no where and he starts cussing before letting out a long, exasperated sigh when he looks at you laughing to yourself. Damn spider…

But even so, he can’t help but dote on you, even if you can be an annoying ball of energy sometimes. He just can’t help but let you jump around him with your spiderwebs all over the house when you try to take something from afar, using the webs to pull it towards you. Although… you are a bit bashful and guilty for keeping his tidy room messy with webs everywhere that you help clean up which he appreciates.

On patrols, you’re usually faster than him and sometimes he complains so you just shut him up by scooping him in his arms and holding him by the waist with one hand before web-slinging your way to the location where the criminal gang is as he huffed. From afar at times, it looks like a grown ass man being baby carried or held like a big dog by some spider person across the high buildings, which he gets a little flustered over.

Regardless, Jason still loves you. Just don’t shoot the webs everywhere- <3

Tim Drake

He’s fascinated by you, how your webs work and how you can stick on walls with just your fingertips.

Tim might ask a lot of questions about your anatomy and what your spider body can do which sometimes annoy you but he’s just so curious he can’t help it. Genuinely.

Another one who you scare the shit out of with you surprising him by hanging upside down and popping your head down to face his out of no where, but he’s not like Jason who reacts very… dramatically, he’ll just recover from shock to contort into a pout and maybe gently flick your forehead to tell you to knock it off, although he knows you won’t.

Might be a sap for that upside down kiss where you kiss him upside down and all because of course he would be-

Tim loves asking you to use your web fluid for practically everything now. “Hey, s/o? Could you use your web fluid to stick this circuit board in here?” “S/o could you grab the remote with your web? Pleaseeeee?” “S/o, I kinda need your web fluid to close up the hole in my pants-” sometimes you gotta tell him that’s not gonna work sometimes, and those pants will look weird if you do that-

Overall, Tim loves his whacky, loveable spider s/o. <3

Damian Wayne

Also like Jason, he found you annoying. But this guy is hard in denial before he admits he even likes you.

Damian, at first, keep scowling at how annoying you can be with your web-slinging for fun and not for patrol, and getting web strings all over his suit after patrol from an intense fight against the criminal gang you two were assigned to take down. Now, he still scowls but with a blush and his heart skipping a beat because he can’t deny how cute you are even if you’re an annoying lil shi- (or maybe you ain’t little but you get the point).

Damian will tolerate you swinging about, although he isn’t scared when you hang upside down to spook him a bit because you literally can’t, his god-like sense of instincts would immediately pick up on you without even needing to turn to face you. Sometimes you joke with him that he has spidey-senses to which he rolls his eyes casually.

He won’t say it out loud, but he thinks you’re a pretty impressive fighter and you kinda remind him of Dick but you’re still unique. He just make sure your web fluids don’t go all over the place that you make a mess of the evidence for the police.

Overall, a tsundere for his spider s/o. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

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heartless-tate · 1 month

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Hi! If I may be so self indulgent and request something... 👉🏻👈🏻

Reader being a (for lack of better words) boring person. They're good at blending in within social circles but never standing out or having a circle or friend of their own. Good laughing at jokes but can't come up with good ones or even if they did, they don't have the courage to tell them outright. They're very much a chicken when it comes to expressing themselves as an individual because they're never comfortable enough around anyone. They are a chicken in general, to be honest. This essentially (and sadly) leaves them as an NPC in their own life. And they've accepted it, trying to come to terms with a life of extreme mediocrity. They're actively trying to push down any need of wanting more from life 99% of days.

However, when you're good at listening, you observe things much better and you learn things faster. And subconsciously, reader has been observing a lot of things about Velaris (including the IC). I'm not sure where this would lead but this is probably the only real skill they have; being a good observer and learner.

I leave the rest to you. I was thinking pairing them with Azriel (since he would probably understand her better) but I'm open to any modifications.

Also, just an afterthought, I've always wondered what job I would love to have in a fantasy world (and I don't know if this counts as an actual job) but something like observing the sky/stars to look for any forthcoming events sounds really cool. So I guess reader could do that since major events happen don't happen once in a hundred years or something which ultimately makes their job very boring. However, they love it because who wouldn't love spending their whole night star-gazing (potential date idea?? YESS).

Sorry this became way longer than I intended. I wouldn't judge if you chose not to write on it. Thanks & have a great day :)

Am I boring? | Azriel X boring F reader

A/N: Hiii! Tysm for your ask. I hope I captured what you were imagining right. 💖

summary: You’re a star mapper. And you’re boring with no hope of love. Or at least you believed that until Azriel came along.

1.2k words

warnings: no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, cussing??, romance?? That’s it?? I think?

The stars shined brighter tonight. Since you were a little girl, you had always been fascinated by them. How they sparkled. They were interesting, and beautiful- unlike you. Maybe that’s why you clung onto them.

You pulled a piece of parchment from your bag, and started mapping the stars. Rhysand, the highlord of the night court, had invited you to his court to observe and map stars from this part of the world. You accepted, wanting some change. Even if you knew it wouldn’t be much of a difference to you. The inner circle was more than nice to you, and you appreciated it.

Laughter bubbled from behind you. You currently sat with your telescope on the balcony of the House of Wind. This was your third week here. Rhysand had offered you a permanent place here in the night court, but you were yet to accept. You didn’t fit in. You were a background character. A random star mapper, a job would probably never be much of use to anyone. Except weird star fanatics. Aka you. You were sure he only offered you a place here because of pity.

The inner circle seemed to really like you, and whether that was because of your quiet and shy nature, or the fact you always listened and gave great advice, or the fact you always laughed to try and fit in even if you didn’t quite understand the joke, you didn’t know. The only one who seemed to see past your mask of people pleasing was the Shadowsinger.

Anytime you ‘laughed’ at Cassian’s jokes, he was always there, smirking with a known look at you. As if he knew you. As if he had known you your whole life. Azriel had seemed curious about you. It was uncomfortable. Nobody had ever been curious about you. Everyone always enjoyed someone that they could talk to about themselves for hours. But he was the one always interrupting the other members of the inner circle to question you, on you. And your own life. And sadly you didn’t have many answers other than, “oh I don’t know.”

It made you feel weird at how interested he seemed in you. It made you feel awkward. But you knew he would lose interest once he really discovered there wasn’t actually much to you. You were a bore.

“Those stars are named Arktos, Carynth, and Oristes. They shine above that mountain for a week once a year during the blood rite.” A voice said beside you. You flinched as you noticed Azriel sitting directly by you, his shadows swirling around you both. He was always appearing out of nowhere. He handed you a plate of cake.

“Courtesy of Elain. She baked dessert tonight.” Azriel said, lifting a bite of his cake to his mouth and chewing on it.

“Oh.” You responded, setting the plate down beside you. You quickly labeled the stars on your parchment. They were beautiful.

“Do you like cake?” He questioned.

You paused and stared blank at him.

“I’m not sure?” You responded, fiddling with your hands. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Azriel smiled at you knowingly. Loud laughter boomed from the room behind you two. He looked right at you with piercing amber eyes that seemed annoyed. As if he had noticed you flinching from the loud sounds.

“Come with me? Just trust me.” He whispered, grasping your hand gently with caution. It was sudden. And you weren’t sure. You didn’t know him much. How could you trust him? But something in your body and soul screamed yes. Why not? It was risky- but life was boring.

“Okay.” You responded, gasping as he pulled you close, his wings wrapping you close to him, and his shadows swarming around you both before all of a sudden you were now standing on a cliff. Oh gods. His hands were on your hips gently, his wings spread wide, letting you see the view.

You both stood on a cliff that overlooked a waterfall and river. The moon reflected in the water and the stars did too, creating a mirror effect. It was probably the most gorgeous sight you had ever seen.

“Its- it’s…” Your words fumbled, mouth open in shock. “Beautiful..” you whispered. His breath was hot against your ear.

“Very.” He whispered back. When you looked at him he wasn’t even looking at the view. His eyes were glued on you. And he was looking at you as if you were a goddess. Azriel’s eyes softened, with adoration. It scared you. Nobody had ever looked at you like that. With a blush you realized he was holding you like a lover. He smirked at you as if knowing you just realized it.

Azriel slowly let go and used his wing to guide you to turn around. Blankets and pillows were on the ground. Like a picnic but a nest. His shadows swirled excitedly around the set up. He guided you gently to the set up, helping you sit down before sitting beside you.

“Do you want your mapping materials? My shadows can retrieve them for you. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to just relax and enjoy this night or continue star mapping.” He murmured.

You thought for a second. This was odd. Was this a date? Or did he do this with all of his friends? Did you want to map or did you want to enjoy this night with him?

“No it’s okay.” You replied, eyes glued to the stars above. They were much clearer from this view then from the House of Wind. You guess the city lights blurred them out. But here? They were in their full glory.

“Why did you bring me here?” He seemed to pause before responding.

“My shadows told me you might be leaving soon. This is my attempt at convincing you to stay here. In the night court. With your mate.” Azriel confessed.

He watched your eyebrows furrow.

“Mate? I don’t have a mate-“ you panicked.

His wings cocooned you and his arm enveloped you. It was like he could sense your panic. He rocked you back and forth like a child. And it was comforting.

“I’m your mate. I’ve known since I’ve met you. I thought I would have more time to get to know you and the bond would snap for you, but then my shadows informed me of your soon departure.”

You swallowed, throat bobbing. You blinked a few times. “There isn’t anything about me to get to know.” You replied harshly. Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Shadows swirled around you both, some tendrils caressing you.

“Don’t say that. I know it isn’t true. Everyday I learn something new about you. I don’t care what you say, you are the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He said, words much louder and firmer now. He thinks you’re interesting?

“Stay. Stay with me. Let me get to know you. I don’t expect you to accept the bond anytime soon. But give me- give us a chance.” Azriel said, wings tightening around you both. His eyes bore into you, with a fierce and loving look in them. You couldn’t help but soften in his hold.

You realized then, you deserved love. And for once a belonging feeling overwhelmed your senses.

“I’ll stay.”

Hope you guys enjoyed 💗

#azriel #acosf #acotar #imagine #x reader #acotar 5 #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #acotar series #Azriel imagine #reader insert #azriel x reader fluff #fluff

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 6 months

Text

born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is.

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back. He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #netflix daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock my beloved #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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via-l0ve · 9 months

Note

Hello! I've been binging your fics/imagines lately and I just can't get enough! I don't know if this was ever done before, but--

Could you do a general, platonic (perhaps mildly romantic, like how I see Dean kinda gushing over Y/N idk, your choice!) imagine on how the men (Sam, Dean, Castiel, maybe Crowley [which would be funny]) would react to Y/N being some kind of powerful angel, like that sits at a pretty high rank and has the power to do all sorts of stuff? Healing, destroying, anger being so destructive it could kill a human (but albeit a peaceful being). This angel would probably serve as a guardian to the Winchesters, or a superior to Cass or a complete surprise and maybe unlikely companion for Crowley? I imagine it'd be a scenario where they're saved last second during a massive fight, probably get to know er type deal. This sounds kind of cheesy as I ask someone else to write this but I hope it doesn't sound too weird, I almost wanna go anonymous HAHA. I know this is VERY specific but I don't wanna confuse you! It's something I wanna write out into a fic myself but the way you write would make it super interesting! :)

So sorry if this was too much, I'm very descriptive!

Angel. (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: stop omg. this idea is so cool! also - thank you for the kind words!! i appreciate you so much!! i hope you enjoy this!

warnings: slightly romantic!!

Dean:

Dean met you on a hunt

he was being himself and basically bleeding out, but he was still fighting

you, being in charge of the dink, had to come down and help out

when you appear, a bolt of white light strikes the ground and your voice projects through the atmosphere

“you will not hurt this man.” you say, hair blowing in the wind and eyes glowing

dean was flabbergasted, also a little scared, but also a little bit in love

eventually you just kill the entire vampire nest because they’re stupid and you turn to dean.

“are you okay?”

he’s even more confused because this angel just came down and slaughtered the threats to him and now they’re talking so.. nice.

you heal his wounds and boom. now he’s your friend

he follows you around like a lost puppy and also brags that he’s friends with not one, but two angels, and one is even more powerful and higher up than fucking CASTIEL.

as he gets to know you he knows how sweet you are and it inteigues him even more because - as i said, you’re a powerful angel who can kill anyone but you’re so nice to him, Sam, Bobby and Cas.

the first time he sees you angry he literally gets all red and falls for you

—

Sam:

You first met sam when he was basically bleeding out in a motel room

Dean had gone to get food and sam had been hiding a pretty nasty gash from him

so now he was sitting alone trying to patch himself up (and being unsuccessful)

so, you made your appearance and tried to keep him calm

you appeared and he saw you and went 👁️👄👁️

“it’s okay. i’m an angel. i will not hurt you.” you say softly, stepping towards him

sam is still a little wary but he lets you heal him

you press your fingers to his forehead and he’s all good (albeit a little scared hahah)

he always has the smuggest little smirk on his face when you get angry on his behalf

he likes the feeling of having such a powerful being watching over him all the time but it also makes him nervous because of… his past💀

addicts recover

—

Castiel:

When you came down from heaven to help the Winchesters and Castiel, he was happy to see you

he knew, despite rebelling from heaven, you wouldn’t judge him

he spends a lot of time near you

like, standing right next to you

i like to think that you have better “people skills” than him for whatever reason (it’s just funny) and he just kind of sticks to you ykwim

he thinks you’re so cool

he dosent step in to help you in fights because he knows you can handle it and kill anyone you want

he’s blushing and kicking his feet when he sees you🤭🤭🤭

absolute power couple if you guys got together like omg

but yeah

he always defends you if anyone says shit

he’s just such a cutie pie

—

Crowley:

you popped in when crowley was holding dean and sam hostage

you came into the room, eyes rolling already.

“let them go.” you said, voice sounding bored as you’d done this multiple times already.

crowley looks at you

“oh god, you again.” he scoffs

BUT he dosent even bother to argue and lets them go

which shocks the boys because that’s not like crowley

but he’s smitten for you

it’s giving enemies to lovers

but anyways

you guys have many encounters and end up talking a lot

crowley talks about hell and you talk about heaven

and he finds himself not hating you

and suddenly he wants to be around you more and learn about you and watch you be a badass angel

#love u mwah #thank you sm for this request #dean winchester #castiel x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #castiel #sam winchester x reader #crowley #crowley x reader #dean winchester supernatural #sam winchester supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #castiel supernatural #supernatural #crowley supernatural

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wren-kitchens · 6 months

Text

the sky is my thoughts (and we are so small)

he glares at the midnight sky—littered with stars and swirls of colour he never even knew existed up there until an hour ago—like it’s the sky’s fault joel is on the roof in the first place. it’d be easier to have someone to blame for everything he’s feeling right now, to be entirely honest. which is to say that everything he’s feeling right now is annoying and if he had someone to blame, he could make them stop it.

but it’s no one’s fault, which is stupid.

it’s not the sky’s fault that joel couldn’t sleep, unable to bear the weight of jimmy and grian’s presence in his otherwise desolate life; it’s not the stars that made him pad softly in his socks along the wooden corridor towards the attic; the crisp midnight air didn’t force him to climb the ladder that lead onto the roof. that’s all on him. it’s dumb.

i’ve been procrastinating on uploading my full fics here for a while now so I thought I may as well get started HJFDH

if you like, please also reblog!

“this is dumb.”

joel can’t think of anything better to say. this whole idea is extremely, profoundly, irrefutably dumb, and he honestly should just go back to bed. he doesn’t know why he even came up with it in the first place, it’s so stupid.

but it’s no one’s fault, which is stupid.

“I don’t know why i’m even doing this.” joel mutters. “you’re just- giant rocks that are on fire. you can’t hear.”

the stupid, dumb stars don’t respond. of course they don’t, that’d be- well, stupid. joel needs more words to describe stupid stuff. there’s a lot of stupid stuff right now.

“bet you smell.” joel tacks on grumpily. “stupid smelly stars. on fire. fire sucks.”

joel pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders, burying as much of his face as he can along with it to protect against the chill. he can’t remember where he got the idea of talking to the stars from. probably some text post or weird inspirational meme thingy. not his own brain, of course, talking to stars is dumb and silly. joel isn’t dumb orsilly.

he wonders if he could sleep out here. it’s not all that cold, and he has a blanket and cushions anyway.

sleeping under the stars to avoid the crushing loneliness he feels when he sees jimmy and grian being so happy together. he’s living the dream over here.

joel huffs in annoyance. “it’s all just- it’s so dumb. I thought I had loads of friends! i’m so cool, and sexy and tall, y’know, it was inevitable.” he preens.

there’s a pause, and joel deflates slightly. “I don’t think I actually have any friends. just.. people I know. which is stupid, because i’m so cool.” he doesn’t feel like he’s convincing anyone with that.

“is it my fault?” joel asks, slightly rougher. “did I- was it me that-“ joel can’t quite finish that sentence. he sighs. “I don’t know. maybe.”

the stars don’t say anything. joel finds he’s starting to appreciate it.

“I don’t know why i’m even-“ he sighs again. “this is stupid. I just.. I don’t know. it’s easier like this, maybe. i’m not.. used to people.”

“I.. d’you think they like me?” joel says. “it’s scary. i’m- I didn’t think that would be a possibility. I don’t- I didn’t plan for it to be a possibility.”

“I thought, y’know. just be myself, they’ll fuck right off.” he fiddles with his blanket. “but, um. they didn’t. I don’t know.. why they didn’t. or what to do right now.”

the stars twinkle down at him, almost as if they were smiling. that’s dumb. stars don’t smile.

“it’s.” joel glances down. “I like them. but, I mean, i’ve liked a lot of people. doesn’t mean they don’t leave, y’know.”

“I don’t want them to leave.” joel murmurs. “i’ve known a lot of people and.. I really don’t want to lose them. they mean a lot to me.”

joel looks back up at the stars. they really are quite beautiful, huh. maybe he was a little hasty to call them dumb, now he thinks about it.

he shifts, leaning against the slope of the roof, on top of his cushions. he really likes it here, actually—the galaxy above him, the dark forest surrounding him, the mountains backdropping it all. definitely not the worst place to sleep, by any means.

“was there a sleepover I wasn’t invited to?”

joel starts, and looks up to see jimmy, holding his own blanket and an armful of pillows.

“hey.” joel says. “sorry, I-“

“you don’t have to apologise.” jimmy says. “can- I mean, do you mind if I stay?”

joel’s first instinct is to say yes, to send jimmy back downstairs, to stay safe in his loneliness. but he finds, as he opens his mouth to do just that..

.. he doesn’t really want jimmy to go.

“I don’t mind.” joel says with a halfhearted shrug. it’s so stupid. he’s gotten attached already? after so long on his own? okay, sure, it’s jimmy, but still.

it’s hard to tell in the low light, but joel thinks he sees jimmy smile. “can I sit next to you?”

joel nods, and jimmy settles down on the floor. he’s close—close enough that, if joel wanted to, he could lean on jimmy’s shoulder, or bury himself in the golden plumage of his wing. he doesn’t want to, obviously. that’d be embarrassing. of course he doesn’t.

“are you alright?” jimmy asks, pulling joel out of his thoughts.

“yeah.” joel says automatically. “i’m fine, why?”

jimmy shrugs, looking like he doesn’t really believe him. “well, you’re out here at like, two in the morning, on your own.”

“it’s..” joel trails off. how does he explain this without sounding either stupid or rude?

“what’re you doing anyway?” jimmy asks.

joel sighs. “something dumb.”

jimmy smiles, ever so slightly. “you say that about a lot of things.”

“you’ll laugh.” joel says. “I would.”

“have you met me before now?” jimmy says, amused. “have you heard of anything i’ve done, ever?”

joel snorts. “yeah, well. that’s different.”

“why?” jimmy presses.

“‘cause- I mean, you don’t care.” joel says. “no one cares. ‘cause it’s you.”

“well, I don’t care.” jimmy says. “because it’s you.”

and that..

that’s a lot.

“besides, i’ve done a lot worse.” jimmy continues, like he hasn’t just made joel reevaluate everything he’s ever thought about himself. “I- well, you don’t even know the half of it.” he chuckles. “y’know, I-“

jimmy stops mid sentence as joel shuffles closer and drops his head to rest on jimmy’s shoulder.

“hi.” jimmy smiles.

“i’m- it’s not-“ joel says, immediately trying to come up with some kind of defence.

“oh- dude, let yourself enjoy something.” jimmy says, half exasperated, half fond. “I may be dumb, but i’m not stupid.” he grins.

“you’re not dumb.” joel says. he pauses, considering. “you’re smelly though.”

jimmy snorts, and a smile begins to worm its way onto joel’s face in response. it’d be scary, if it didn’t feel so nice.

“i’ll take that as a compliment.” jimmy says, putting his arm around joel. he gives into it immediately, without so much as a second thought. jimmy huffs.

“what?” joel says.

“you are a silly, silly man.” jimmy tells him.

“what did I do!” joel squawks.

“you are so incredibly touchstarved!” jimmy laughs.

“i am not.” joel folds his arms. “that’s stupid.”

“oh yeah?” jimmy says, and joel doesn’t have time to wonder what that means before jimmy is scratching gently at the base of his ears, and all intelligent thought leaves his mind.

joel melts, leaning closer and closer into the touch, chasing that wonderful sensation, his insides replaced by sunbeams. he’s distantly aware of how embarrassing this is, how he can probably never show his face again after, but right now it’s just background noise.

that is until jimmy moves his hand away.

joel lets out a whine of protest before he can stop himself, and immediately claps his hand over his mouth. jimmy has that ‘I told you so’ look on his face, accompanied by something unbearably fond. joel is going to jump off this roof.

“not touchstarved, huh?” jimmy teases.

joel huffs. “it’s embarrassing.”

“no, it’s not.”

joel is taken aback by the sincerity in jimmy’s voice, and he looks up.

“it’s not.” jimmy repeats, slightly quieter. “you- I mean, you’re allowed to have emotions, dude.” he scoffs.

joel rolls his eyes. “I know that-“

“do you?” jimmy says.

that pulls joel up short. “do- what?”

“do you know that?” jimmy says. “‘cause- and I mean, in the best way possible but it doesn’t look like you do.”

“what d’you mean?” joel says warily, because this is starting to get into Deep Stuff territory, and that’s a place joel is very unfamiliar with.

“I- well, um.” jimmy grins nervously. “I won’t pretend I didn’t.. hear some of what you said earlier-”

joel is definitely, 100% set on the whole jumping-off-the-roof plan. “that- if you could- if you could pretend that didn’t happen, ever, that’d be brilliant.“

“if you want me to.” jimmy says, and he’s so genuine yet casual about it that it makes joel’s head spin. he’d just do it, no questions asked, if joel wanted. “but,”

jimmy pauses, and joel realises it’s to give him time to say no. he doesn’t, so jimmy keeps going.

“but.. we’re not gonna leave you.” jimmy says, voice all soft suddenly. something inside joel aches. “as embarrassing as it is, we like you too.” he jokes fondly. “i don’t want to leave you.”

and joel-

it’s so stupid. seriously, he’s not even going to say it, it’s that stupid.

fine. but don’t laugh. or judge him, or anything like that. he can’t blame you if you do though, because he would.

joel cries.

and it’s dumb, and so stupid, and he wants to hate himself for it, but jimmy just holds him close and strokes his hair, and it’s- it might be alright. because jimmy cares about him, and not the stupid stuff he thinks and does, and he cares enough to sit on a roof in the middle of the night and hold him in the cold as he cries into a blanket.

and, fuck. that’s enough.

“thank you.” joel mumbles in between hiccupy sobs.

“you mean so much to me, joel.” jimmy whispers, and he’s crying too, and joel could laugh. sap. “I don’t think i say that enough.”

“if you- if you say it more, I might just break down every other time.” joel jokes, and jimmy pokes him.

“you’re an idiot, y’know that?” jimmy sniffs.

“i’ve been made aware.” joel says.

“woah, am I missing a cry session?” comes grian’s voice, and jimmy yelps, entirely disrupting the mood.

“I thought you were asleep!” jimmy says. “I would have brought you otherwise.”

“you’re not exactly quiet, tim.” grian grins. “is this a good cry, or a bad cry?”

“good.” joel says, smiling. “it’s-“

“if you say ‘stupid’ one more time-” jimmy starts, fond yet exasperated.

“I was going to say ‘it’s thanks to jimmy’, but I won’t now.” joel elbows him, and jimmy squawks in indignation. “it’s stupid.” he adds, just to be annoying.

“grian, come help me kill him.” jimmy says, and joel cackles.

“oh, gladly.” grian says, plonking himself down on joel’s other side, snatching some of his blanket for himself.

“you guys’ idea of killing looks a lot like hugging.” joel notes, even as he snuggles into them.

“well, it’s one in the morning.” jimmy says, leaning into joel. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“tell me if it starts living up to the ‘beauty’ part.” grian says, wrapping an arm around joel’s waist as he rests his head on grian’s shoulder.

“oi!” jimmy exclaims.

“you’ll wake up the whole forest at this rate, lad.” joel nudges him, grinning sleepily. man, crying your heart out takes it out of a guy.

“yeah, timmy.” grian teases, wrapping his wings around the three of them. “go to sleep.”

jimmy huffs, but he copies grian, settling down. “I am. you go to sleep.”

joel makes a noise between a grunt and a sigh as he shifts, smiling to himself. “thanks for checking up on me.” he mumbles, eyes closing.

“‘course, dude.” jimmy says, voice soft.

“yeah, we’re not letting our bad boy get all sad.” grian squeezes him.

“exactly.” jimmy rubs a thumb gently against joel’s ear. “besides..”

“I like sleeping under the stars.”

#the bad boys #bad boys #limited life #joel smallishbeans #grian #jimmy solidarity #please don’t tag as ship <3 #wren writes #trafficblr

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mailjeevasfan · 1 year

Note

hi! love your work <3 can i request some headcanons about living with matt and mello (together) it can me romantic or platonic, i dont mind either way ! tysm :)

that pic came out so low quality for some reason

thank you so much :’) i tried to do a mix and include a little bit of romance for each but i’d say it’s mainly general/platonic. i reaaaaally self indulged here

-matt and mello x gn! reader

༺♡༻

living with matt and mello hcs ❦

matt

-messy asf. he doesn’t do it on purpose but he’s just so unorganised and has a messy room and just causes chaos wherever he walks. that being said, he does know where everything is which pisses mello off SO MUCH. mello also routinely berates him for his mess

‘matt, what the hell is this on the counter?’

‘umm… the end of a cigarette?’

‘WE HAVE FUCKING ASHTRAYS FOR A REASON.’

-he is probably the one who is at home the most. he doesn’t like going outside, he just sits in and plays video games or watches tv. he only does anything productive if he reaaally has to

-that being said, you have to drag him out sometimes to avoid him getting too depressed from just sitting doing nothing for days. if you can’t motivate him then mello will gladly accept the challenge and come through without fail.

-matt is deeply appreciative of how thoughtful you and mello are, as roommates but also as friends. how well you know him, how easy it is for you to see what he needs when he’s at his lowest. once, (probably when he was drunk) and falling asleep on your chest, he expressed this out loud for the first time and you almost wanted to sob at his words. he comes off as someone who’s always so casual and sometimes maybe even awkward, so hearing this was a shock but a good one.

-if matt isn’t sleeping or sitting on the couch playing video games, he is probably lying on the floor or just doing weird shit. i can imagine mello coming home and just seeing matt doing a handstand against the wall, watching something (5 minute crafts) on his phone on the floor.

-dyes his hair often and changes up his look very frequently, so very often you find yourself following the smell of cigarettes only to the open bathroom door and find matt looking like patrick bateman due to him washing off his hair dye in the sink (cigarette still lit in his mouth, it’s basically a party trick at this point)

-whenever you have to go out he drags you back to bed and holds you as tight as he can with a smirk on his face

-whether you’re a smoker or not, you often light his cigarettes for him and it ends up being a much more intimate gesture than you anticipated. mello tells you to get a room

༺♡༻

mello

-he’s out of the house the most between the three of you but that’s kind of a given. lots of work to do you know being in the mafia and all, that kind of casual stuff…

-idk where i’m going with this or how to even explain it any more, but he always makes a conscious effort to keep alcohol in the house at all times like he is always just coming home with a bottle of something

-has lots of cool rock/metal posters in his room and when he’s not in his usual leather clothes he’s wearing band tees (u and matt steal them frequently and he pretends to be mad)

-honestly i want to say (solely for comedic effect) that he absolutely despises the smell of cigarettes in the house. you’ve never seen desperation like the kind mello exhibits when he begs matt to PLEASE SMOKE OUT OF A WINDOW.

-there is 100% a designated cupboard that is full to the brim with chocolate. all the same brand, flavour, type, whatever. literally everything. it’s all identical.

-when he’s feeling down about messing something up, even if it’s the smallest thing, he gets really really emotional and will immediately go to his room. he probably doesn’t cry often unless it’s angry tears but he doesn’t want even his most trusted people to see him like that. however you always know what to do, you leave him be but then convince him that he should let out his thoughts later, in a kind way of course. matt also helps him to feel better at times but you’re definitely there to bring him his chocolate and give him lots of hugs and kisses. he doesn’t speak too emotionally, but i can imagine a very soft ‘thank you’ after you help him

-blasts metal at 9am. no further comments

༺♡༻

both/all three of you

-matt cuts mello’s hair and mello occasionally dyes matt’s. matt gets so into it he thinks he’s a little hairdresser. they’ve also given each other piercings, they have about a 40% success rate. they’ve offered to give you one but you very politely decline. you always have to supervise in these situations because god knows what is going to happen with these two

-it is extremely common to have mini sleepovers in each others rooms. this is another thing that matt just gets a little TOO into, he wants the full shabam. he’s looking for matching pyjamas, chick flicks on the tv, endless snacks, and pillow fights. by that i mean he just starts relentlessly beating you and mello with a pillow without warning

-matt likes to shake you and mello awake at an ungodly hour and declare that you are going for a drive. he never actually plans anything for these drives, sometimes you don’t actually do anything but you enjoy them nonetheless. however it is extremely hard to get mello out of bed at a time he hasn’t decided on.

-you do the cooking, purely for everybody’s safety. mello likes to think he’s gordon ramsay but he fucks up the most basic things. matt is just a natural hazard with most things

༺♡༻

#death note #mail jeevas #mello #mihael keehl #matt #matt x reader #mail jeevas x reader #mello x reader #mihael keehl x reader #death note x reader #death note headcanons #i had to include redhead matt at some point

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noobydabooby · 1 month

Text

Something Wrong?

Hello Hello hope you pookies are doing amazing just wanted to write about this cutie ykyk anyways hope you enjoy<33

From the moment you joined the organization, you’ve gotten along pretty well with everyone. Everyone’s given you a warm welcome, which you appreciated with how nervous you gelt when first joining. That is everyone but a certain green-haired boy. You knew his name was Gekko from Neon, but have never talked to him.

For whatever reason, it seemed like he’s been avoiding you ever since you joined. When you enter a room he immediately leaves, bringing his cute little critters you’ve been dying to meet. Have you done something to make him not like you? No, it couldn’t be, what could you have done? You figured you should just leave it alone, you can’t expect to get along with everyone.

You’ve seen him interact with others with such emotions, he also seemed like a really cool person. You asked the people he hung out with his weird actions but they were just as clueless as you were. You figured he just didn’t like you as much as everyone else.

As the days grew into weeks, his behavior continued, growing your curiosity more. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed, true you haven’t talked to him yet, why did it hurt you this way? Each day, the curiosity grew as he continued to behave this way.

One particular night, it became hard for you to fall asleep, eventually getting up to get some water, hoping to find something to help you fall asleep. As you approached the door, you noticed light coming from inside already. Maybe they forgot to turn off the light before falling asleep? You thought. Rubbing your eyes as you opened the door, they landed on the familiar green hair, looking inside the fridge, turned away from you.

Gekko hadn’t noticed you yet, giving you the chance to finally confront him. You quietly walked over, trying to make yourself as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, Wingman peeked from behind the counter and started garbling a whole lot, making Mateo turn around. His eyes widened as he spotted you and quickly turned around again, grabbing something from the fridge and attempted to leave again.

“Wait!” You called out. Wingman stood in front of him not letting him leave. Gekko sighed as he turned to face you, not making eye contact and a slightly flushed face. “I..Did I do something?.. to make you not like me..?” You asked. Gekko looked like he was trying to find the right words to say. “Not like you? No, no, I promise you haven’t done anything.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, finally happy to talk to the skater. Wingman garbled a bit more, making Gekko mutter a few curse words. “Mierda, porque eres asi?” He sighed “The truth is, I think you’re really pretty, and..” he stoped for a moment to think. “I just become so nervous when I see you, I just didn’t wanna embarrass myself, y’ know?” He rubbed the back of his head waiting for your response.

“You…think I’m pretty?” You said in disbelief. Gekko nodded, unsure of what to say next. “That’s my bad, honestly, should’ve thought of how you felt.” You smiled at him, “This whole time, I thought I did something!” The two of you chatted for a while, eventually the sleepiness got to you, both of you bid your goodbyes and left.

Since that day, the protocol has seen you two hanging out together more often, sometimes you get teasing comments and looks from people, but it doesn’t matter now that you’ve met your possible new boyfriend.

#gekko x reader #gekko x you #valorant x reader #valorant gekko x reader

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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

Note

I've got a head canon going on for Ev Blakely to share and who better to share it with but the Chief Organizer of the Naughty Sleepover?

Let's face it, the man is a tall, cool drink of water, but he's married and faithful...well, except when it comes to his own hands...

Picture him leaning up against the back wall of one of those Nissin huts late at night when he thinks no one's looking -- head tilted back, eyes closed, fleece jacket unzipped, fly undone...that long, lean body with that long, lean cock, one hand cupping his balls, the other pulling his shaft in long, shuddering strokes...he's trying so hard to keep his breath under control so nobody hears...

Pardon me while I take a few deep breaths myself...and by all means, feel free to join in this particular cock-versation...

The way I just, like, rolled onto my back like a dog hoping for belly scratches while reading this!?! Weird, concerning, but also a very valid display on my part of docile submission that the absolutely un-presuming force of Ev Blakely elicits.

I kid you not, dear Anon, I had a mild moment of panic when Douglass was requested for Cock-versations in my sleepover because where one is the other is surely near and yet??? I didn’t have it in me to have a whole essay on this man. Something about him deters me out of sheer respect and insecurity. Which is hot, and foreign for a scrappy gal like me.

The rest of these legends? I can take them -not in a fight. But I’d try a fight, too.

Everett Blakely?

Fuck he’s just too cool and the swag is not a front or a coping mechanism - it’s his essence and his scarves are somehow better than Gale’s and he’s didn’t get shot down by the end of the series -what BIGGER dick energy could we require?

Also- fuck!!!! how valid you are that this man gets off under the stars?!. None of that teenage shower shit for him, smelling of soap and damp and ten different masculine aftershaves with a hint of something else that should’ve been washed away down the drain and yet lingers. What a place to tug one out to. What’s there to remind him of Margaret?

The stars though? Now, Venus’ far off twinkle, that spurs thoughts of the gleam in his wife’s eye when she gets an idea and oh -how very much this man likes his wife’s ideas.

You’re just so right, this man wants a thing? -he takes it and orchestrates the having of it to his liking, universal forces bend to him, not the other way around and honestly that makes me throb in appreciation.

But he’s also fun?! What a combo!!!

He also gives very strong “use your words, honey pie” vibes, maybe it’s all the riddles or the gentle authority figure energy but that’s just what I’m getting from him: and that’s very essential as you are likely to go quite dumb and silent around him and that gorgeous, lanky cock and those endless dark eyes.

The faithfulness aspect?! SO HOT. Not in a home wrecking urge sorta way, oh ho no. Rather -I wanna be Margaret so bad it makes me look stupid and I’m ok with it.

If you’ve got any further thoughts -if any of y’all do on any of them!! this is a sleepover the swapping should be both ways!!- hit me up with them.

Again, legit rolled around in impotent need reading this, Nonnie, I’m so flattered you’d submit it to my box.

#cock-versations #masters of the air #mota #Ev Blakely #everett blakely #naughty sleepover

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beauty-and-passion · 2 months

Text

TMA - Chapters 11-20: Familiar names, familiar names everywhere

I didn’t make you wait too long, didn’t I? ;)

<< Main Masterlist < Previous post

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MAG 11 - Dreamer

Oh, that’s some heavy foreshadowing.

Instead of a full story, this statement could’ve just been: “Yes, there is a continuative plot and yes, there is some very creepy shit that is coming soon. And we will find out what happened to Gertrude Robinson too”. Thanks, I got the message and it was very convincing too XD

Also, Jon got a few additional points on my list, because if anyone comes in ranting about my death, I would want to hear them too. Thank you, Jon, for being relatable.

(A-ah! Graham! Is he the same Graham from MAG 3? I’m pretty sure about it)

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MAG 12 - First Aid

And right after Graham, Gerard Keay comes back too! That’s so cool, two stories in a row with a recurring character! So I was right, the characters can and will come back.

According to this statement, our man Gerard has already been around for a while, following supernatural shit. This time, it was a burning man, sumeric demons and more burning things. I suppose Gerard doesn't want to live a simple life.

(Also, this supernatural shit reminds me of MAG 9 and that other supernatural shit that blew all lightbulbs. Are they connected? And if you're asking, yes, I will keep naming these things “supernatural shit”, until I will find out if they have a name or not.)

Are you kidding me, my man Gerard died of brain tumor?! Nah, I don’t believe it in the slightest. No, not even with the corpse, so don’t even try: my man is alive, I feel it. He's alive and he's still following some supernatural shit somewhere.

I also noticed this is the second story featuring mysterious eyes. What are all those eyes? Have they a meaning? Will they come back too?

One last thing: Jon loves to diss Martin. First all the “urgh, Martin is useless” comments, now “Martin talks nonsense”. What will he do next, punch him? Come on, man, be a little nicer. I know you will improve because you’re the protagonist or whatever, but for now you really act as if you have a broom stuck up your ass XD

_______________________________

MAG 13 - Alone

Another statement in which it’s evident the Magnus Institute isn’t very appreciated. I feel we will learn more about this in the future, so I’ll register this information in my mind and wait.

Speaking of the episode, we have two people talking, so I suppose we will have more people talking while being registered too. That only proves to me that this series isn’t just about statements, but that there is a plot that will come sooner or later.

About the story… I don’t know, I think there is something I should remember and I don’t. Maybe the name Evan Lukas? Maybe the umpteenth Michael (Getty, this time)? However, the mysterious fog and the chapel and the cemetery… all along Evan’s weird family… I really don’t know what to think about this story. It looks as if it’s telling me something, but I am not getting it. Maybe it’s nothing and I’m just overthinking it.

_______________________________

MAG 14 - Piecemeal

Oh, that was interesting! I’m quite sad the supernatural shit took a while to appear, but it was worth it. Whoever Angela is, I don’t want to meet her, nor her hungry supernatural animal or whatever it was the thing that took Mr. Rentoul piece by piece. It was creepy, but also very captivating: a bit like witnessing an incident, you know? That feeling of “it’s horrible, but I can’t stop watching”.

Goddamit Jon, I just scolded you for being too mean with Martin, and now you call him “Useless ass”? I bet you're very funny at parties.

_______________________________

MAG 15 - Lost Johns’ Cave

Jon might be a bit of an ass, but I agree with him on this one: this is a weird statement indeed.

Wait, not “weird”. “Unexpected” might be the right word.

The statement is just like many others before: it’s a coherent story with a premise, a protagonist, a supernatural element, weird stuff happening and a conclusion. You read it and you immediately realize that the supernatural shit appeared when Alena asked Ms. Popham how lost she was “in a low, grating voice”. I immediately thought that thing talking wasn't Alena anymore, but someone/something that took her place and Ms. Popham luckily escaped from it.

But then the statement ends and Jon tells us a completely different story: the two women hadn't a permit to visit the cave, Ms. Popham was surrounded by candles, then the weird record with the “take her, not me” sentence… that’s not what we just read, that’s another story entirely.

I was so focused on the statement, thinking it was just like all previous ones, I didn’t expect this little twist. And I enjoyed it a lot! I love when an author tricks me or takes me by surprise like that. Great job :D

(When Jon said Martin didn’t want to help with the investigation because he’s claustrophobic, I almost expected Jon to insult him, his parents and all of his ancestors. Luckily, he did not XD)

_______________________________

MAG 16 - Arachnophobia

Moral of the story: if you kill a momma spider, she will come back for revenge.

But seriously, that was a funny statement. My main concern was for Major Tom: I was praying and hoping he would get out alive and luckily he did. He looked at the ghostly spirit of Spider Mom and thought nope, not gonna mess with her. Better go away for a while and let the human deal with her. I literally smiled when Mr. Vittery said the cat left by giving him a look of pity: sorry bro, he just wanted to live.

But seriously, I really enjoyed the idea of a female spider being so resentful because the human killed her babies with his clumsiness, to come back from the death with the sole purpose of haunting him. Mothers really are the scariest creatures ever - even scarier than the supernatural shit.

(Speaking of the small worms: are they the same from Jane Prentiss' story? Are they related to her?)

_______________________________

MAG 17 - The Boneturner’s Tale

Woah, this story was packed with people!

Ruth Weaver: I was sure I’d heard this name before. I knew it. So I stopped and checked the previous statements, but couldn’t find her. But still, that was such a familiar name… where is she? Where have I heard it before?

So, I searched on Google and the first result made it clear why I remembered this name so well:

The Ruth Weaver I remember was from goddamn Mandela Catalogue. Maybe it’s just a huge coincidence Mandela and TMA share the same name for a female character, but it’s a funny one. Who took inspiration from whom?

Michael Crew: since I remember the name Michael, the series decided to feed me 200 different Michaels and good luck finding the right one. Will I ever find the right one? Is there even a “right” one or are they just random characters who keep popping up everywhere?

Miss Herne: oh, I remember her! Naomi from MAG 13! And it looks like the Lukas family are patrons of the Magnus Institute. Welp, that doesn’t reassure me the slightest: the Lukas family is creepy, they clearly hide something (read: supernatural shit) and the Magnus Institute isn’t held in high consideration by “normal” people. What does this place hide? I remember MAG 11 and creepy eyes and tentacles/whatever converging into the Institute, so I think it's quite clear there is something inside and I can't wait to see what it is.

Jared Hopworth: that’s another familiar name. But he’s not from the Mandela Catalogue, so I suppose he’s from some TMA fanart of yesteryear I saw and that’s probably why it sounds familiar.

So he became some sort of… flesh-y blob? And was it because of the book? Well… he kinda became the Boneturner mentioned in the title, didn’t he?

Wait… wait… is this what Leutner’s books do? They turn you into the topic/main character? So if someone ever read Ex Altiora, they would’ve lost themselves in space or whatever, while The Boneturner’s Tale turns you into the protagonist? And this is why, every time the guy from MAG 4 looked at Ex Altiora, he had some sort of vertigo?

If I am right, this is fucking cool as hell - and terrifying, sure. But also cool as hell. I am in love with this guy, now. Jurgen Leitner, you are a menace to mankind, but also: this stuff is sick, teach me how to do the same. No, I don't want to kill people in creative ways, I just want to know how you can do it.

Come on, I don't think I'm asking too much. I mean, my previous wish has been fulfilled: I wanted more Leitner books, I got more Leitner books. I just want to know more about him.

One last thing: Martin is sick. Is it because of some supernatural shit in the Institute? Is the supernatural shit attacking him? Is the supernatural shit attacking everyone? I hope nothing bad happens to him: he’s already bullied by his boss, he doesn’t need a supernatural shit bothering him too.

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MAG 18 - The Man Upstairs

Uh, that’s not really a scary statement, but I agree it’s a bit disgusting. Mostly because of the idea of layers of meat stacked on every surface while the old ones are putrid and rotten. Eww but also kudos for making such a vivid image that will haunt my dreams.

Okay, maybe I’m being paranoid now, but Toby Carlisle is another familiar name. This series is made of familiar names only: every name rings a bell, every name makes me question my life, my choices and my life’s choices.

Speaking of the statement, what the heck does even mean that the pile of meat opened “all its eyes”? Is this pile of meat actually Jared Hopworth from the previous statement? Are all these things somehow related to the man “with all the bones in his hand” mentioned in MAG 8?

I want to know more.

_______________________________

MAG 19 - Confession

Holy shit, I would’ve never expected this.

I just mentioned MAG 8 and here we have Father Edwin Burroughs from MAG 8. Is the series listening to me and my thoughts? I am scared.

It’s kinda funny I recognized him not by his name, but by Annie’s name. I simply thought: hey, what if she’s the same nurse? And yes, she was. And that’s how I recognized him too. Am I an idiot for not noticing it? Maybe, but I'll blame all these goddamn familiar names that are messing with me :P

Aside from that, this story is very interesting, because we see what happened with this priest before MAG 8, we see his perspective during MAG 8 and we have a spoiler of what happened after MAG 8. Sure, it was just a spoiler because the author of this series is a bad person who wants to tease me all the time, but you know what? I love it. I want to find out the next part of Father Burroughs’ statement. I want to know more about him. I want to know more about this incident.

Also, I love how all the stories are slowly connecting into a huge web. Cool, but I fear I will lose track of something, so if I lost any connection between these chapters and the previous ones, please let me know.

_______________________________

MAG 20 - Desecrated Host

As soon as I heard “Continuation of the statement of Father Edwin Burroughs…”, I literally exclaimed: “YES!”. TMA's author truly is the biggest teaser of all time <3

Oh boy, this statement was like a drug trip. We had a preview with Not-Father-Singh/the demon/whatever that listed Father Burroughs’ sins and that was disturbing already... but then we have the mass and oh gosh, that was a wild trip.

The parishioners, the sound of the bell, the Host that is not a Host because it’s goddamn human flesh... my favorite moment is when Father Burroughs or the parishioners try to talk, but instead of hearing a voice, all he can hear is the sound of a bell. It's such an uncanny, unsettling, creepy image, it scared me more than any disgusting shit. Amazing <3

I also really like how Jon turned, for a moment, into a little detective and realizes that hey, according to the hints, there should’ve been another person with Father Burroughs. And I bet everything that it was the same supernatural shit that looked like Father Singh first and the altar server later.

And finally, how can we close this statement (and this post too), if not with another familiar name? As soon as I heard “Breekon and Hope Deliveries”, I knew it was the same delivery company from MAG 2.

I am enjoying all of this so. Goddamn. Much.

_______________________________

In conclusion

So far we got:

supernatural shit

people dealing/being involved with the supernatural shit

200 books wreaking havoc all over the world

a delivery company that delivers supernatural shit

Well, the world of this series is surely growing bigger and larger! After 20 stories, it’s clear that there is a bigger scheme, that these stories are connected somehow and that the Magnus Institute plays a role in all of this - other than just “being the place where all the statements about the supernatural are”.

If I was curious after 10 chapters, I’m even more curious now. I want to see where this story brings me. I want to read more and find out more connections. I want to be surprised and to be tested, I want a good brain scratch and I want to be captivated by this story.

I can’t wait to see if it is truly as well-written, well-planned as it seems or if it's just me being blinded by hope.

>> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

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TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @mudpuddlenl@allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia@whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24 @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue @cynicalandsarcastic @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire

@riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan @arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @reesiereads

@dracayd-universe @starlightnyx @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @coldbookworm @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

#tma #the magnus archives #magnus archives #jonathan sims #gerard keay #my man goes around dealing with shit #while my other man leutner goes around doing shit #love them both

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chemicallywrit · 8 months

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I’m terribly inconsistent with audio drama sunday but there are so many stand-out eps this week that i HAVE to

@eelerschoice holy HECK, what a fantastic move with a blind protagonist, taking it as an opportunity to describe the world. Malevolent does it, but i think i like the way eeler’s choice does it better. Wonderful.

My beloved Steeplechase ended this week, and what a good ending. Endings are hard, and I know Justin wasn’t super thrilled about DMing, but he did such a fantastic job. I love these old man criminals so much. If you’re looking for Balance from the adventure zone, i’m not sure that’ll ever be recaptured, but if you want a good story, please listen to Steeplechase.

I am OBSESSED with the @kingmakerpod’s synechdekey (sp? i know it’s a synecdoche reference). What a fantastic plot device. This week’s ep was, as always, lovely and hilarious.

Forgive Me! was incredible. Yeah Father Ben, you punch out that scumbag misogynist. I’m so…proud of him? Yeah, proud of him.

I have a weird relationship with Leaving Corvat, because I like it, but it’s really clear to me that it’s American horror written by a European. It maybe actually adds to the horror, because everything feels very slightly…off? You know? However, this week’s episode had me feeling for Sleeper like I never have before, like he actually wants to be a good person, and suddenly I’m much more invested in his double who is married and expecting a kid. It took a very cool turn.

I’ve been catching up with four podcasts at once, as is my wont, and I just finished up Madame Magenta: Sonos Mystica. I. Love her. She’s so good. I can’t wait to start Madame Magenta Presents.

I’ve also been listening through Fall of the House of Sunshine, and if you told me which characters would survive to season three, I don’t think i would have believed you. A dozen of the songs of this show are ending up on my spotify playlists. They’re just so. So! You know? I’m on 3.8 and I’m wondering when the next cringy gross song will happen. We’ve had too many heartfelt ones lately. This is the one i keep thinking about this week:

I also just started Gastronaut! And i didn’t know what I was expecting, but I think I’m in love? More on that another day, I expect.

For personal news, I am hype for the last few weeks of Re: Dracula, especially with the miniseries we’re planning soon. We’re halfway through recording season five of Inn Between, with recording on hold for a bit while I sort job stuff. Gotta make sure you can pay people. I’m also HYPE OUT OF MY MIND for the premier of The Dead, a zombie project I’ve been working on with Bloody FM that premiers on Halloween. Keep an eye out, i’m going to show it off all over.

Speaking of job stuff, I’m currently trying to make rent before i get my first paycheck from my new job! If you liked this or like the other things I do, i’d really appreciate a stop by my ko-fi. Get a sticker while you’re there!

Until next week!

#audio drama sunday #freaking podcasts #audio drama #audio fiction #fiction podcast #Spotify

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Brandy Butter

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

|| Consent universe oneshot, heavy mentions of the last chapter Concentric, so do not recommend reading as a stand-alone ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Prompts: Drunken confession | Christmas (additional requests sent in with the votes in notes at the end)

Summary: Dieter blames it on the damn brandy butter.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, mention of food, dirty talk, fingering, handjob, cumshot, feelings so fluffy. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 3.4k

Notes: Posting this a week before Christmas so you guys can read at your own pace! This one came in first in the holiday vote, and I've been waiting to write this for a long time. This is dedicated to Cristina @pedropascalsx for being one of my favourite people on this hellsite, but also partly because it mentions a key scene in the series for which she commissioned this gorgeous art for. Thank you for being the sweetest friend, this is for you ❤️

It’s shaping up to be the first decent holiday season you’ve had in a while. Your parents are on a cruise (you love them, but they haven’t met Dieter in person yet and you’re happy to hold off for a day that doesn’t involve your mother stress-cooking and your father knocking back eggnog), Pete and Ana are in town, and you’re all going to Rebecca’s for dinner tonight.

You’re starting Christmas morning the same way you have since college - making Christmas pudding in your pyjamas.

Your roommate from the other side of the pond introduced you to the weird and quintessentially British holiday dessert in freshman year, and it’s been a treasured tradition of yours ever since to make it from scratch every year.

The Christmas pudding is a hard sell. The dark brown, domed sponge cake is boiled for hours, packed with alcohol-soaked dried fruit and definitely not Instagram-friendly, but you’ve yet to meet someone who you didn’t convert with your secret recipe.

Maybe Dieter Bravo would be the first.

‘It smells funny.’

You snort as you cut up butter into cubes. ‘You haven’t washed that robe in weeks and you think this smells funny?’

He picks up the recipe for the pudding and reads in mock horror, ‘Raisins, prunes, currants soaked in stout for 24 hours?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Drop the puritan act, Bravo. You’ve definitely been soaked in much worse for much longer.’

He continues, ignoring your jab. ‘The pudding can be stored for up to two years in a cool, dry place. What the fuck is this witchcraft cake, sweetheart?’

Measuring out icing sugar, you answer, ‘It’s a traditional British Christmas dessert. It’s delicious.’

‘But we’re not British,’ he protests. ‘Why can’t we have some nice, normal pecan pie or something?’

Grabbing the ingredients, you move around the kitchen counter towards the standing mixer that you brought with you when you moved in. ‘You can, if you make it. But you’re not, and I love Christmas pudding, so stop complaining.’

He follows hot on your heels, craning over your shoulder as you start beating the sugar into the butter. ‘Whatcha making?’

‘Brandy butter,’ you reply, tipping in a generous pour of said alcohol into the mixture. ‘It’s like frosting, but with lots of brandy.’

Dieter hums appreciatively, palms finding your waist. ‘Now that I can get on board with.’

You turn off the mixer to do a taste test, smacking your lips as you lick the brandy butter off the spoon. It’s delicious, sweet and smooth but the alcohol cuts through the richness - it will go perfectly with the sticky and dense Christmas pudding.

Dieter follows suit, scooping a greedy dollop of brandy butter with two fingers which disappear into his mouth. When he swallows, he unleashes a moan so guttural that it would make a porn star blush.

‘It’s good, but it’s not that good,’ you chide his over-the-top dramatics, and smack him on the back of his hand when he makes to dive into the mixing bowl again. ‘No double dipping, Bravo.’

His grin turns filthy instantly, the wolvishness that curls the corner of his lips never fails to set your pulse racing. Grabbing you by the ass, he whines into your neck, ‘But sweetheart, you love it when I double dip into your sweet, tight -’

‘Dieter -’ You cut in, but you can’t help the waver in your voice when the same two fingers that were in his mouth just now, still warm from his tongue, trail under the elastic band of your sweatpants.

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he asks, ‘How about a little Christmas present to kick the day off, sweetheart?’

His fingertips catch on your skin - with remnants of sugar from the brandy butter and dried spit - as they slide into your panties, running through the thatch of hair before finding your clit, making you cry out as he chuckles into your ear.

‘Who’s been a good girl this year?’ he teases.

Your scoff at the unoriginal innuendo careens off into a moan when he makes his way through your quickly dampening folds. ‘Really? Santa jokes?’

‘Don’t be such a grinch, sweetheart,’ he mock-admonishes you, dipping the tip of his middle finger into your wet pussy, groaning at what he finds. ‘It’s obviously working on you.’

‘Fuck,’ you bite out when he hastily shoves your pants down and sinks one thick digit in all the way down to the knuckle. Bracing yourself on the marble-top surface, you suddenly realise it’s probably time to top up the water in the pan for the Christmas pudding. ‘Wait, Dieter - I need to check on the pudding -’

‘Uh-uh,’ tuts Dieter, spinning you around and easily hoisting you onto an empty spot on the kitchen counter, the cold surface under your bare ass making you shiver. ‘Not until you cum on my hand, baby.’

‘It’ll burn!’ your protest trails off into a desperate whine when he starts pumping in and out of you, dropping his gaze to watch as your cunt slicks up his finger.

‘Then you better cum quick,’ he retorts in a cocky challenge. ‘Although, on second thought, I wouldn’t mind if it did burn.’

He slows his movements deliberately, but you shake your head, rolling your hips in chase. ‘Oh no, you won’t win, Dieter Bravo.’

He presses a messy kiss to your lips. ‘You’re so sexy when you’re competitive, baby.’

‘One more finger,’ you demand, swiping your tongue into his mouth as you push your hands into his unruly curls.

‘I thought you said no double dipping,’ he taunts against your lips, clearly having been waiting for the chance to drop that line.

‘Oh, shut up,’ you grumble with ill-concealed affection. He doesn’t deny you, and your teeth catch your bottom lip when you push back onto his hand shamelessly. ‘I want to touch you.’

Dieter doesn’t need to be told twice, untying the drawstring of his sweats and pushing them down to free his already hard cock. You wrap your palm around his erection, your wrist slack as you stroke him in an unforgiving rhythm that has him stuttering curses into the crook of your neck.

When he pushes you backwards to find your clit with his fingertips, you brace one foot on a kitchen stool, which lends you the leverage to start moving freely.

‘Ride my fingers, that’s a good girl,’ he croons while he watches you impale yourself on him, your grip around his length tightening at the same time he draws quicker circles on your clit. ‘That’s it, sweetheart, come on -’

Your back arches as you snap, your orgasm ripping hot and fast through you. Dieter grins, mouthing at your sensitive neck and scraping his teeth behind your ear, leaving you slumping bonelessly against his side.

With a low chuckle at your wrecked state, Dieter gently dislodges your palm to take himself in hand, jaw twitching as he rushes headlong into his own high. Pulling out of your heat, he holds you obscenely wide, and with a hoarse shout, he spurts thickly onto your pussy splayed open beneath him, his cum dripping like white honey through your folds and onto the countertop.

Smearing one finger through his mess, you gasp when he pushes it into your still sensitive pussy, winking as he draws it out to suck it clean. He declares, ‘Tastes even better than your brandy butter if you asked me, sweetheart.’

Despite your negligence, the Christmas pudding survives unscathed - much to Dieter’s dismay.

It’s the first time all of you are under the same roof since Resurgence ended, and it’s a merry affair. Dieter and Pete won’t stop crooning reunited and it feels so good to each other like idiots, you and Ana scoff at their antics affectionately while you catch up on the last few months.

Rebecca and Hank are in fine form, their beautiful house decorated to the nines. You finally meet their daughter, Coco, and the family cat Crookshanks. Everyone helps out - laying out the silverware, pouring the champagne and putting presents under the outrageously decked out ten-foot Christmas pine. The lights of Hollywood Hills twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows beyond the infinity pool, as dusk falls and candles are lit all around the intimate dining room.

Dinner is delicious. The hosts made turkey, stuffing and an assortment of delicious sides, Ana cooked potatoes three ways, and Pete brought plenty of wine that flows liberally as the dishes go around the table for seconds, thirds and fourths.

It’s your first big holiday together as a couple - the teasing, marriage jokes and third degree are expected, and Pete doesn’t disappoint.

With the food winding down but glasses tirelessly topped up, he clamours for a reenactment of the reunion on the boat in Italy, insisting that he plays the part of Constance to make up for the fact that he missed the event. That’s how Pete and Dieter end up on the first landing on the stairs which overlooks the dining space, trying to recreate the scene where you caught him and Constance and realised that it was all a ruse.

Trying being the keyword. They’re mostly knocking back wine while arguing about the details.

‘No, no, I’m 100% sure Ana was there as well the exact moment she figured out that you guys were faking it,’ insists Pete, wagging his finger sagely.

‘How would you know, you weren’t even there, Pete!’ you heckle.

‘Pete, if you decide to try your hand in acting, you know where to find representation. You make such a convincing Constance,’ Rebecca jokes.

You think you’ve gotten away with the worst of it by the time you help clear the table and Pete gets distracted by the dessert coming out of the kitchen. Your defences are down, leaving yourself vulnerable to ambush -

You just didn’t expect it from Rebecca and Hank’s thirteen-year-old.

Coco is her mother’s daughter. Whip smart and taking after her mum’s striking looks, she has far more self-assuredness than you did at her tender age. The way she discreetly weighs you up is the same way Rebecca assessed you all those months ago when you first met in the doorway of your hotel room.

The teenager waits until everyone is sloshing with wine to pounce. You’ve all moved to the living room where the fireplace is roaring, and the desserts are laid out on the coffee table. She’s curled up next to Dieter in front of the fire, Crookshanks - who not only has the name but also the looks to boot - draped across both their laps.

You’re in the middle of explaining Christmas pudding to the sceptics, which currently stands untouched, when she coolly calls you by your name and draws first blood.

‘So, are you and Uncle D living together?’

Surprised, you blink at the sudden change in conversation and stutter a reply, ‘Um - ahem, yes, Coco - yes, we are.’

‘He’s lived with a bunch of girls, you know,’ she informs you, crossing her arms.

‘All at once or at different times?’ you joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. Pete’s mouth is hanging open in both fascination and anxiety at the unfolding drama while Ana chews on her nails, eyes darting between you and the girl.

‘Coconuts,’ pipes up Dieter with a warning tilt to his tone.

She shrugs innocently. ‘What? Just making sure you’re on the same page. Mum always says communication makes or breaks a relationship.’

‘I appreciate that, and I do know he’s lived with other women before,’ you assure her. ‘We both have our histories.’

Seizing on your comment, she continues with her line of questioning. ‘So how many men have you lived with?’

‘Coco,’ raps Becks sternly from across the room. ‘That is not an appropriate question, young lady.’

You smile and shake your head. ‘It’s ok - I’ve just lived with one guy. We were engaged.’

‘What happened?’ she asks.

You reply truthfully, ‘We broke up a few years ago. Sometimes that’s the way things turn out.’

Coco taps on her chin thoughtfully, turning to Dieter. ‘How many times have you been engaged, Uncle D? I remember twice, at least. So that’s three failed engagements between the two of you -’

The cat yowls in protest when Dieter reaches over to squeeze Coco by the shoulders, a slightly uncomfortable grin on his lips. ‘Alright, what’s up with all the interest in math tonight, kiddo?’

She points out, ‘I don’t see any posts about her on your Instagram. You’ve never kept anything secret before. What’s different this time?’

Dieter turns to Becks, tossing up his hands in disbelief. ‘You let her use Instagram? She’s thirteen!’

Becks rolls her eyes fondly. ‘Am I really getting parenting advice from Dieter Bravo?’

Then, Coco turns to you and delivers the coup de grace. ‘So - do you love him?’

Before you can react, Pete chokes violently on his eggnog, gripping at the coffee table from his seat on the plush rug. Ana has to burp him like a baby while he cries, ‘Oh god, it’s coming up my nose! It burns!’

You’re so stunned that you still haven’t moved a muscle when Dieter jumps up, sending Crookshanks scampering off with a grumpy meow.

‘Ok that’s it,’ he pronounces and hauls Coco up by her armpits. ‘Off to bed now, young lady. Say good night!’

Coco protests as she’s dragged off, slipping and sliding on her Christmas socks on the marble floor, her voice petering out as they disappear up the stairs. ‘What the heck, Uncle D? They’re fair questions and you know it. Have you even asked them yourself -’

Glancing about in the awkward silence, Pete picks up a bottle of brandy from the table and shouts. ‘Shots!’

Three quarters of an hour later, Pete is lying prostrate, snoring on the couch. Ana is engaged in a tipsy philosophical debate with Rebecca, and Hank is drunk washing up in the kitchen.

You’re tucked into Dieter’s side while he munches on a slice of Christmas pudding with a generous helping of brandy butter. ‘I take it back, sweetheart. This is fucking delicious.’

‘It’s a cake soaked in alcohol, of course it is,’ you grin, which morphs into a yawn as you glance at your watch. ‘It’s late, I think we should try and get an Uber home.’

Becks speaks up from across the room. ‘You sure, guys? We have a couple of spare rooms upstairs.’

‘It’s fine, I think Pete needs it more than us,’ you quip, reaching over to poke at his prone form with your foot.

Ana waves from the floor. ‘See you later, love birds. Merry Christmas!’

Becks gets up and loops her arm through yours as she walks you to the door. ‘Sorry about Coco. She’s protective about her Uncle D, especially when it’s the first time he’s brought a woman home for Christmas in a while.’

You smile and pull her into a hug. ‘Please don’t apologise, your kid’s a feisty one and I know exactly who she got that from. Goodness knows he could use her in his corner,’ you add with a wink.

You shepherd Dieter into the waiting car. It’s easily the most expensive Uber ride you’ve ever taken, and you breathe a sigh of relief when Dieter’s house comes into view.

Home.

Somewhere between the Hollywood Hills and Sherman Oaks, Dieter passes out cold, drool puddling on the shoulder of his fuzzy brown coat as he dozes. You have to coax him out of the car and up into the bedroom, with him whining drunkenly the whole way, face buried in the back of your neck as he stumbles after you.

It’s a struggle to get him out of his clothes - perish the thought of getting him to brush his teeth - but at least he’s just the right level of drunk that has him snoring within moments of his head hitting the pillow. You breathe a sigh of relief when you climb in after him.

Dieter immediately shuffles into your warmth and blindly presses a kiss to you, which lands on the side of your nose. You huff a laugh, rearranging yourself so that your back is to his chest, his arms wound around your waist.

‘Not so tight, I’m stuffed,’ you grumble.

He obeys, but keeps the entire length of his body smooshed against you needily, the proximity muffling his words. ‘I do, you know.’

‘What?’ you hum.

The declaration is slurred with sleep as it brushes your ear, but the tone is emphatic. ‘Love you. I love you, sweetheart.’

You stop breathing.

Not that you haven’t wondered, silently turned it over in your mind over the past few months. But it’s two in the morning - you lost count at one glass of bubbles and three and a half of wine, and him many more. You swear you can taste brandy butter on his breath.

Before you can muddle through your jumbled thoughts, he mercifully slips into sleep.

And you mull over his words until you do too.

Your side of the bed is cold when he wakes up in the morning.

Dieter winces at the light, tempted to bury himself under the duvet, but something he can’t put his finger on has him sitting up, a groan on his lips as the world tilts dangerously on its axis.

That something nags at him as he slips on his robe, nips at his heels as his feet wriggle into furry slippers.

He stops abruptly by the bedroom door.

Shit. Did he tell you that he loves you last night?

The heating is on and the house is toasty, made even warmer with the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling butter from the open kitchen. You’re at the stove as he pads quietly towards you, and you don’t turn around when he snakes his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. ‘Morning, sweetheart.’

You hum noncommittally, but at least you’re relaxing into his embrace instead of pulling away, and Dieter breathes a sigh of relief.

He hasn’t scared you away. You’re still here.

‘I meant what I said last night,’ he blurts out impulsively.

He almost winces at his rashness. But he does, and he’s never been good at holding things back, especially things that he knows. He’s not going to take it back.

Without turning around, you say evenly, ‘Go sit down, Dieter.’

He stiffens instantly behind you, nails digging into the soft fabric of your dressing gown. Fuck. Fuck. You want him to sit down? Why?

Blindly, he lets go of you and stumbles over his feet to the kitchen counter, scrambling onto a stool. The hardwood floor suddenly feels like quicksand as he wobbles in his seat, sweaty palms pressed into the cool marble surface to anchor him. You take your time, your body giving away no hint of the same gravity that’s making his stomach drop while you flip over what smells like buttermilk pancakes.

When you finally turn around with the pan in your hands, Dieter holds his breath and watches you cross the kitchen to slide something into his plate, which lands with an emphatic thwack.

Eventually, he looks up at you with the biggest puppy eyes in utter confusion. He squeaks, ‘It’s a heart-shaped pancake.’

You smile at his befuddlement. ‘That’s right. Just like that heart-shaped pizza Lorenzo made for us in Italy.’

‘Is this one a prank too?’ he asks in a small voice.

Stepping in between his legs and winding your arms around his neck, you smile. ‘Unfortunately not. I actually love you, you idiot.’

You yelp when he tugs you fully into him, making you lose your footing as you laugh. And then he’s kissing you, fingers pushing into your hair, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he pulls back.

‘There isn’t a ring in the pancake, is there?’ he teases with a throwback to your reaction to the heart-shaped pizza all those months ago, wriggling his eyebrows.

‘You should be so lucky, Dieter Bravo,’ you echo his words back at him.

He grins. Some day, one day - maybe even in that same house that he’s been thinking of buying for the two of you, on the roof with the terracotta floor at sunset on a summer’s day, with his grandmother's ring in a heart-shaped pizza -

But for now, he swallows the lump in his throat, his warm eyes hold yours with a surety he feels deep in his bones as he murmurs against your lips, ‘I love you too, sweetheart.’

I never regretted holding off on this moment from the main series, and writing this in the months after Consent ended (which is about the same length of time for our two idiots in the story), I feel even more strongly about this. Thank you for the enthusiastic voting for this prompt and Christmas, I loved writing this moment for these two so much - they've definitely earned it.

I hope you all have the most wonderful Christmas ❤️

Also, thank you for these requests that I had so much fun working into this fic!

LJ @prolix-yuy: IF you do the Christmas fic, I would love to see which seasonal drink/food Dieter and our Intimacy Coordinator enjoy (especially if it's polarizing for each other - does Dieter like eggnog? Fruitcake? Something even weirder) No pressure to add, love you Cee!

Anon: Maybe you could work a cat in somewhere? 😉 Like maybe he ends up around someone who has a cat? He seems like he’d be really sweet with them. He just seems like a cat man to me. Even if he doesn’t know it yet. I could be wrong. That’s just my headcanon.

#dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo oneshot #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #the bubble fanfic #queue #fuckyeahholidays #it’s consent season

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 day

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Apart of the same ask, since they came right after the other! I have no idea what to do, I kind winged it. Wung it? I’m not familiar with the past tense of that phrase. Anyway. I TRIED. The trans part is more subtle than I originally meant for it to be but oh well I guess.

The neon lights of Pentagram City buzzed below as I leaned back into the plush, leather couch of the Vees Tower penthouse. The expansive window gave us a sprawling view of the chaotic cityscape, but I found my eyes drawn more to the elegant decor of the living room, decked out in sleek modernity and techy accents, befitting of its owner.

It also had some weird looking demon versions of a Venus Flytrap!

"Hey, babe," came a familiar voice, smooth and electrifying, from behind me. I turned to see Vox approaching with a gentle smile, his television screen face flickering momentarily with a heart icon before returning to his usual confident smirk. It was a new feature I begged him to add- little emotes when he was unsure of what expression to make- and it was adorable! His impeccably tailored suit seemed to shine under the ambient light of the room but it was nothing in comparison to how cute the ‘<3’ I’d just seen was.

"Hey, Vox," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. It was hard when I was filled with joy from the ADORABLE EMOTE especially when combined with the usual warmth I always felt in his presence.

He sat down beside me, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I nestled into his side, feeling the cool, reassuring touch of his hand as he began to run his fingers through my hair gently. "How was your day?" he asked softly. “Hows the new binder?”

"Good," I said to the second question, smiling up at him. I paused and hesitated for a moment, before answering the first question. "Better now that you're here."

Vox chuckled softly, the sound like a comforting hum. "You always know how to make a guy feel special," he said with a wink. He twirled a piece of my hair between his fingers. It was getting long, I intended to get it cut again soon. He seemed to take notice of my hesitance. He knew I hadn’t had the best day.

I laughed, the sound melding into the peaceful ambiance of the room. "I could say the same about you."

His other hand came to rest on my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You look amazing today," he said, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. "Have I told you how proud I am of you?"

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. Vox had a way of making me feel seen and appreciated in ways I had never experienced before. And he knew I loved praise. Goddamnit. "You might have mentioned it once or twice," I teased, though my heart swelled with the sincerity of his words. “I don’t look that great, though.. my hair is getting long again and it’s all weird, you know?”

"Well, let me remind you again," he said, his tone growing softer. "You are incredible. If your hair is bothering you, I can set up an appointment with your favorite barber. Get a trim, maybe dye it?” I nodded and smiled wider, leaning into his touch. “Good. Consider it done.” He sighed, affectionately. “I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

I tilted my head up to look at him, our eyes meeting. In his gaze, I saw not just affection but a deep, unwavering respect. He wasn’t one to just hand that out, especially not to a normal sinner demon like me. It was nice, knowing I was one of the few people he genuinely cared about. "I love you," I whispered, the words slipping out without a thought.

Vox's screen flickered to show a series of hearts before reverting to his face, which was now softened with emotion. I squeaked with joy and squeezed his hand lightly. He was so fucking cute. "I love you too," he replied, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. The touch was light, almost reverent.

“You’re adorable,” I said, pulling him in for a short kiss on the lips.

“And you’re handsome,” he said with a grin. “Maybe even a little more so than usual.”

I tried to stifle a laugh and failed, bursting into a fit of giggles instead. “I don’t believe you,” I said between bouts of laughter. His fingers continued to trace patterns on my arm, each touch sending a shiver of warmth through me.

"Can I ask you something?" I said after a moment, my voice barely above a whisper as I attempted to compose myself.

"Anything," he replied immediately, his attention fully on me.

"Do you ever… worry about what people think? About us?" The question had been nagging at me, though I tried to push it aside. In a place as judgmental as Hell, it was hard not to.

Vox's expression softened even further, if that was possible. He cupped my face in his hand, his thumb brushing gently over my cheek. "Never," he said firmly. "I care about what you think. You're my priority. Anyone who can't see how amazing you are isn't worth our time."

His words settled over me like a warm blanket, easing the doubts that had crept in. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment. "Thank you," I murmured, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. It made good company for the heat rising to my cheeks. I buried my head against his chest to hide my blush.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. He laughed and guided my head away, placing his hand under my chin and tilting it up so he could see me properly. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was gentle, filled with a tenderness that took my breath away.

I melted into him, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Vox deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of my neck, holding me close- as if he never wanted to let go.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling. "You're so fucking perfect," he whispered, his lips brushing against mine with each word. "I love you."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox hazbin #vox the tv demon #vox x reader #x reader #STRUGGLED

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dcfanficsgallore · 7 months

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Didn't Plan for This: Chapter 2

Wonder Woman x Demigod!Fem!Reader

No warnings! Just a completely normal date, trust me ;)

agápi mou = My darling in greek

3148 words

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: Your date with Diana goes well... Until!

To say that I was antsy to get my cast off wouldn’t be a lie but also it wouldn’t be the full truth. After she left my room it wouldn’t be for another two days before I was told that my foot was healing much faster than normal. That’s to be expected, I’m a demigod, but getting into that with the doctors would take too much time, so I just nodded and waited for them to give me the all clear to leave.

After leaving the hospital, Ana took me to my place so I could rest, shower, eat real food and wait for her text. Which took longer than I expected (A full day!). I got a text from an unsaved number asking if I was okay so we could have a date, at least that’s what I understood. It was actually written:

- I trust you’re safe. I have seen someone else in your hospital window so am I to assume you’re okay and not dead? -Diana

I chuckled while reading it, it felt like she was trying so hard not to write a letter but texting is clearly something she’s not super used to, I responded that yes I was alive and that I appreciated her text, after a bit of back and forth where she took her time writing her Hymns. We eventually settled on a date and time, you can Imagine my completely cool face and simple smile as she told me the details and not at all my embarrassing kiddie giggles as this interaction happened.

As the day approached, friday so I could go and not worry my job the day after, I tried to keep myself busy with all the reports and managing the damages the earthquake had brought upon the poor building I work at, thankfully the slides actually managed to hold most of the building up so the cleanup was easy and the fixes that were absolutely needed were made without the threat of the a bunch of rock falling on top of the workers.

- The boss wants to see you - Ana said knocking on my door, which is weird, she’s the front desk secretary. What was she doing in my office on the second floor?

I looked at my watch, two hours until I could go home, time was going too slow. Unfortunately that gave me plenty of time to see my boss.

- Alright I’ll be right over, thanks Ana. - I sigh giving her a smile

- Actually he wants to see us both, right now - She said, her face not showing much but I knew she was just as confused as me as to the why of the meeting.

- Maybe he wants to talk about the earthquake. Maybe he’ll make you my assistant seeing as you were also helping people - I say hopeful

- Maybe he’ll make YOU my assistant, for installing floaties on his building! - She smirked

- Safety slides! - I corrected her, lightly smacking her on the arm as we made our way to his office - And he knew what they were, maybe not what they looked like, but he knew!

As we walked I couldn’t help but wonder back to that night in my hospital and the way Wonder Wom- Diana… Diana sat beside me and we just talked, she praised me like I was an equal and asked ME for my number. And then she set up a date. I kept thinking of ways I could impress her, making plans and imagining every possible conversation in my mind. Maybe I should bring her flowers? Or sword polish? Maybe she’s more of a chocolate kinda girl? Everyone like chocolate ri-

- We’re here - Ana said as she put a hand on my shoulder before I was able to open my boss’s door with my nose

- Great! - I say trying to push Wonder Woman thoughts away and putting on my work face - What are you waiting for? - I say to my friend as if I didn’t just almost run into the big boss door.

As we go in I see that the quake hasn’t done much to change my boss’s absolutely hideous sense of decor, his “newton’s cradle” that keeps hitting itself perpetually is still there and is still as annoying as always, his poster with a robot in a suit saying with a little speech bubble: “A good workplace is like a well oiled machine” didn’t get turned into dust during the incident. The whole vibe of the small office on the top floor was still the same, though I did feel like it was all leaning to the left a little too much.

My boss, Mr. Vamp - if that sounds a bit too much like a certain monster to you, don’t you’re not alone and Mr. Vamp already beat you to the joke - Is actually quite the nice man, other than his terrible decoration choice, he always knew what to do for the company to flourish and never thought of himself as above us, though if I’m being honest his demeanor probably stands from the fact that his father owned the company before he did and he was raised to take this position so he most likely grew up in this place. Learning what everyone did so he could always make the best judgment call. Terrible sense of humor though, as all CEOs have. Maybe the robot was a joke? If it was, I did not get it.

- Sir, you wanted to see us? - I said. Sitting in one the chairs in front of him, Ana taking the other one

He looked at me with his brown eyes and bushy eyebrows with almost an expectation, then said:

- Yes Ms. Y/L/N, and Ms. Blönd. I wanted to see you both. - He said leaning back on his leather chair that looked to be recently cleaned, good for him. - I wanted to talk to you both about the incident that happened a few days ago…

After the meeting I felt as if I was going to explode with excitement, both from the topic that we just discussed and also because it was my time to leave!

I said a quick goodbye to my friend and went promptly home. Getting there I texted Diana to see if our plans were still up, and getting back a yes and that she would come over to pick me up in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes was plenty of time to take a shower, pick an outfit, have a little stress snack and get my mind rolling on possible conversation topics. The one thing I didn’t know was what we were doing! Diana had just said to wear comfortable clothes. But I didn’t know if we were going somewhere fancy or not so I settled on long pants, a nice enough jacket and a black and yellow t-shirt. Now all I had to do was wait…

Half an hour until 18:00, I check my phone and see she’s sent a message:

- Wait on the roof - Diana

I think she’ll do a surprise but still, you never know so I pack a little bag with a few things to my mind at ease, also grabbing the little gift I bought for her.

It’s now 18:30 and I think I can see her silhouette, coming towards the roof? Or maybe a night pigeon? No, it’s getting bigger? I think that is her! Yes! It’s her! I start to jump up and down while waving at her. When she lands next to me I have to take a deep breath, she’ll always impress me with her height.

- You came! - I said

- I remember saying I would come. - She said with a smile before pulling me into a hug, I blushed so much from that gesture - I hope I didn’t leave you waiting for long? - She set me down before taking a step back and smiling.

- Not at all, it’s a big city and I imagine you stopped to help citizens along the way - I say with a smile, I would’ve waited until midnight but I don’t tell her that

- You wouldn’t believe how many people get in trouble when you have somewhere to be! - She sounded exasperated but chuckled - I am sorry I was late and hope I can make it up to you. - She said, reaching for my hands and holding them under her own.

- Well, that's what I get for going on a date with a superhero so good she’ll help everyone that needs her - I say trying to ease her worries - But I’m curious as to what you have planned for us Diana.

She beams at me, it’s beautiful. Her sapphire eyes glitter when she’s reminded of her purpose here. I just now notice that her black hair seems perfect even though she just flew across the city to meet me and her tiara is shining as it reflects the setting sun.

- Oh you’ll love it. I talked to some of my sisters that met other children of Athena and what I have planned will amaze you. - She says matter of factly like it was obvious or premeditated. That struck as a little cocky from her part so I decided to poke at it for a bit.

- You sound so sure, what makes you think I’m like the others? - I say with a little smirk and it seems to take her off guard.

Her eyes narrow at me and she shoots an eyebrow up before smiling and saying.

- I guess you’ll be disappointed by the field trip then. - She says, gauging my reaction, which consists basically of my eyes widening and my mouth opening to ask her a barrage of questions, but before I can she puts my hands around her neck and whispers to me - Ready to fly?

I nod furiously before the ground leaves my feet and I find myself being lifted up into the air, it’s an amazing experience. The wind in my face, Diana’s hands on my hips securing me to her body, the way the city’s lights turning on dance flicker through my eyes. But before I can get used to it all, we begin to descend and I find us in front of a broken down phone booth.

- Which of my siblings did you talk to, exactly? - I look at her confused and she laughs out loud.

- No no, this isn’t the place, this is a shortcut. - she says, opening the door and walking in. She then says something that I assume is code. - Wonder Woman, 03, location, 37.9838° N, 23.7275° E.

- That’s in Europe - I whisper, remembering some maps I had read of the world.

- Plus Y/N, 03-B. - She adds winking at me and the phone booth speaks

- Location locked, access granted, Diana Prince and Y/N - It says before the inside starts to glow and Diana pulls me inside, the phone booth isn’t super big so the only place I can comfortably sit is her lap, which makes me blush, like, a lot!

I closed my eyes as the inside glows brighter and brighter until suddenly it stopped and I found myself still on Diana’s lap, still blushing but being able to hear the faint sounds of New York anymore. I quickly get off of her and open the door to see that I’m not in New York anymore, I’m in…

- Athens - Diana completes my thought like she can read my mind - Well, the center of it, not nearly as pretty as it was in its heyday.

- H-how, How on earth did we… - I can’t think of words to say, my mind is racing through different ways that phone booth, no, wait. It’s not a phone booth, it’s a creaky door to an unsuspecting building. Must be the way the Justice League disguise their teleporters - So that must be alien technology, can’t be kryptonian since it’s in English, but it also can’t be martian because if it was we would have teles to Mars already - I start rambling theories before Diana puts a hand on my shoulder.

- You really can’t stop thinking can you? - she smiles - How about we go have our date. Then you can go back to your theories? - she suggests

- Y-yeah. W-where are going, are we flying again? - I pick up my thoughts and manage to ask her.

She gives me her gorgeous smile and says

- We can, agápi mou. - She said in Greek. Which I know some, I wanted to learn after I found out about my heritage but the crappy lessons I took never taught me this word but the way she said it gave me fuzzy feelings inside.

I put my arms around her again and we started to soar through the beautiful landscape before landing on a secluded little hill. It overlooked most of the city, the lights were mostly off, the moon was off-center in the sky so it was probably 01:00 in the morning. The time seemed perfect to see the stars, and all the constellations of my ancestors and all the ancient stories.

Another thing that I noticed was the little checkered blanket and large picnic basket beneath a tree on the top of this hill. I gasped out loud and said

- Oh my gods, a picnic under the stars in one of the most historically charged cities in the world? You really know how to get inside my little owlet heart. - I said hugging her

- I wanted to make a good impression, and I’m glad it was your heart that I got inside because your mind seems like a tougher place to get in.

If only she knew

- Don’t worry Di, you’re off to a very good start. - I said as she started pulling me under the tree to sit down

- I am glad. - She said with a genuine smile, it was more reserved than her other smiles but showed just as much, if not more, emotion. - What would you like? - She slid the basket in between us and threw it open revealing a whole bunch of food. She clearly wanted to make sure we had a good selection of sandwiches, fruits, juices, and all that kind of delicious things.

- Oh that, that and that. - I pointed to a couple of items and she put them in a little plate for me before making one for herself.

The dinner was pretty silent, but a comfortable silence that didn’t make me feel like I needed to talk.

After we were done we started stargazing, I showed her my favorite constellations. She told me of the stories of the ones she liked. Then I told her the myths attached to mine and laughed at weird hymns and poems that the ancients wrote.

When the laughter and conversation started to die down Diana got up and offered me her hand.

- Come on, we have one more stop.

- I hope it’s as fun as this stop - I smiled and took her hand before wrapping myself around her, I could get used to this, and we took off.

It didn’t take long until we got to this next stop, which left me grasping for words, this woman loves doing that to me doesn’t she? We were on top of the Parthenon, one of the most famous monuments in the world and a direct tribute to my mom.

- Holy shit. - Was all I could say, as my mind was flooded with the image of the huge building and the people below us, not many but still enough to look like ants going inside and out - Diana, you are amazing. - I managed to gasp out.

She looked pleased with herself but before she could say something she got a frown on her face, only then I noticed the ear piece she was wearing. She touched it and made an angry face, before softening when looking at me.

- I am sorry Y/N, but it seems that the culprit of the earthquakes is still loose, but we think we got them. I am going to have to go and make sure they get arrested. - She said a little sadly, but I couldn’t help but think:

- Take me with you! - I said out loud, noticing this could be my chance to really impress her and the rest of the superheroes - I’ve been researching the best way to negate, what I assume is, the vibration maker that screwed up my city and I think I came up with a solution. - But before I can go on she stops me.

- No agápi mou, I can’t let you come with me. It’s too dangerous for someone like you - Now it was my turn to cut her off.

- Someone like me? I’m just as much a demigod as you! I’m not exactly a vulnerable mortal here, I broke my leg not even a week ago and now I’m walking around in Greece. If you think you’ll have to protect me? I can assure you I’m trained with hand to hand and knives. My job as Chief of Security had me learn that to be able to defend myself. - I said a little mad, but also kinda feeling fuzzy over her trying to protect me, as I finished my speech I looked into her eyes with my best determined look. That was the most time I’ve ever spent looking into someone’s eyes and I’m so glad it was her beautiful dark blue eyes.

Eventually she relented and said:

- Fine. But you stay as far away from the dangerous parts as possible - She reached on the back her suit and pulled a beautiful silver dagger with ancient greek inscriptions along it and a leather strapped handle - And you will use this if you get attacked, it’s enchanted as to not be dulled or break.

I took the dagger along with its sheath and strapped it to my belt, not too heavy, not too light.

- Thanks for trusting me Di, now. Where did you say we were going? - I asked expectantly. I did not expect Diana to turn to me with a smile and say.

- Well, New York of course. They wouldn’t want to stay far from home now would they? - She before picking me up and flying us to the rundown building, completely forgoing our bags. But I had the feeling that they were safe.

She opened the door and said the same string of commands just changing the coordinates to New York then pulling me onto her lap. I think she was also enjoying making me a blushing mess in front of her, I can just hope I don’t come off like this to her friends.

The room started to glow and I closed my eyes taking a deep breath, saying a quiet prayer for my mom and preparing myself for a battle.

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Chapter 3

#wonder woman x reader #diana prince x reader #diana prince #wonder woman fanfic #Wonder woman #my fic #DianaSimp #justice league fanfic #wonder woman x you #diana of themiscyra #diana of themyscira

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