baccan0pe · 1 year ago
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anxiousbabybird · 9 months ago
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Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged and NSFW HCs, PART 2!
Once again, minors do not interact! I made you guys a part 2 of my current thoughts. No plot or card spoilers in my comments or reblogs, please and thank you 💙
Part 1
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Rafayel
Have you met this man? He wants to know where you’re at and who you’re with at all times. So jealous. It’s probably in your best interest to forget other men exist once you’re dating him
Convinced you to suck his dick while he’s painting to see if it helps convey emotion into his painting—he accidentally pushed the paintbrush through the canvas when he came
Loves when you ride him—it’s so cute watching you bounce on him and use his body for your own pleasure. This also allows him to sit back a little and enjoy every sound you make, every facial expression, every feeling. Of course he does eventually get bored and flips you onto your back for his turn
Before you’re dating, he persuades you into being a nude model for him. He takes his time caressing your skin and telling you he has to “feel” the art, lets his hands wander and linger as he moves your body little by little until you’re in the exact position he wanted. Spends hours staring at your naked body, pretending to draw it (he finished his sketch hours ago but he doesn’t want you getting dressed yet)
Kinks/fetishes: biting, marking, breeding, spit, primal, spanking, mirror sex, praise, wax, shibari, choking, exhibitionism
Loves a pussy job—just sliding his cock between your folds and tapping at your clit like he’s knocking on a door until he cums all over you. Loves this for two reasons: 1) you look exquisite with your clit swollen and body spattered in cum, and 2) the banter between the two of you during a pussy job is top tier. It’s not quite degradation, but you’re both going back and forth in the most teasing way, riling each other up.
Has the biggest praise kink. He thinks he might actually die if you don’t tell him how amazing he is at least 12 times a day
Part of the pretty dick club. It’s actually perfect—thick but not too thick, long but not too long, nice veins wrapping around and well groomed at the base. Some would say it’s perfect.
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Xavier
Sometimes when he’s flustered by you, his body emits a soft glow because of his evol. You notice it for the first time when you surprise him with a kiss to his cheek. He glows a little brighter the first time he kisses your lips too.
He’s fallen asleep during sex before. Usually after several rounds, he’s cum twice already, and you’re laying on your sides on the bed and he’s lazily thrusting into you from behind and all of a sudden he stops. Sheathed inside you and an arm around your waist. When you look over your shoulder, he’s sounds asleep and already softly snoring. You have no choice but to do the same, falling asleep in his arms and keeping his cock nice and warm all night
His favorite position is missionary where your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s slowly, deeply thrusting into you. He likes seeing every expression on your face, really feeling you sucking him in, hearing every breathy moan you try to hide from him. And he likes that he can kiss you whenever he wants
Likes to read at night, even though he falls asleep doing it. When you start staying nights at his place, he convinces you to read out loud to him and you do that every night until he falls asleep with his head on your chest.
Kinks/fetishes: hair pulling (he likes when you give a little tug), overstimulation, marking, cum play, face sitting, cockwarming
Loves fresh flowers and brings you new ones every week. He thinks they’re pretty and hopes you appreciate them the way he does. Sometimes he buys them or sometimes he picks them from some lush patch in the forest. Always takes some for himself so he knows when they start dying and he needs to get you new ones.
Loves to lay his head in your lap so you can play with his hair
The kind of guy who will keep his hand holding yours no matter what because he wants to make sure you’re staying beside him. Sometimes takes one of your hands and puts it in the pocket of his sweatshirt with his just so it stays warm.
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Zayne
He was very opposed to fucking in the hospital at first but then on a day he was super stressed, you stopped by and sucked him off under his desk while he reviewed charts and he was able to successfully perform a surgery other doctors thought was inoperable—he was more lenient on sex in the hospital after that
Kinks/fetishes: size kink, spanking, brat taming, choking, degradative praise, impact (spanking/flogging/paddle), breeding, edging/denial, thigh riding, dirty talk
Has absolutely bent you over his knee to spank you when you’re being a brat and talking back to him all the time with no regard for your own well being. All he wants is to take care of you because you never take care of yourself. And he would take the best care of you.
Cunt smacks. No further explanation needed.
Favorite sex position is prone bone. He likes hitting it from the back because sometimes the prolonged eye contact that can come with facing each other makes him uncomfortable. But doggy style isn’t what he wants because he wants to feel your body against his, holds you as close as possible. This position works best because every inch of him is atop you and he can feel your body there beneath him, he gets to tuck his head into your neck to bite or kiss or moan into, he’s close to your ear and can whisper filthy things or tell you how close he is or how good you feel around him, and most of all, this position has him so fucking deep inside you that he swore nothing in this life felt better the first time he entered you in this way
Allergic to saying nice things to you 98% of the time.
He runs cold because of his evol and sometimes when he cums, it feels like ice inside of you. Made you scream in surprise the first time but leads to some fun temperature play where he uses his tongue to warm you up after. He’s also often cold and loves to curl up against you and tell you that you’re his heater.
#ThickDickClub
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@luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps @adaurielle
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medusaesque · 3 months ago
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Kim's itchy trigger finger
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So, Kim reaches for his gun often. Very often. sometimes for the most ridiculous reasons- opening the bear fridge, the experiment in the church, a note from Klaasje.
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This one is just from being anxious going into the communist reading group. Kim doesn't want to be the kind of cop who draws his gun constantly, who shoots instinctively, but he is, or at the very least it's very difficult for him to stop himself from becoming one.
Perhaps the most horrifying example is with The Pigs-
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Even if he KNOWS the gun isn't loaded, even if he knows it's safe, the instinctual muscle twitch could have ended in an unnecessary death. Kim is very well aware of that fact, and it's horrifying to him. @shufflerock-jam has this really good post about it, where they wonder how many of Kim's kills were unnecessary. "Something about a pair of traumatized cops, one fighting against shooting himself and one fighting against shooting everyone else".
At the end of The Pigs exchange, if Harry says she tried to kill him, Kim begins to interject, but stops himself and agree this situation could've been very bad. Then Empathy chimes in- 'He's trying not to think about how bad it could have been had the gun been loaded.' Which is the heart of the issue, right? that leads us to Eyes-
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This is such a fascinating background to give Kim as a character- not just losing his partner, which gives him the trauma and survivor's guilt that lead to this unhealthy relationship with his gun and frankly with death in general, but losing his Eyes, and having that not interfere with his shooting. Kim doesn't need to see well to hit, he doesn't need to think. It's all in his hands, a reflex. A reflex that nearly took an innocent life. That might have taken one before.
His awareness of looming danger, to him and to his partner, is fueling his version of Hand/Eye Coordination to have him constantly on edge, his whole body is like a loaded spring, always prepared to make sure it doesn't happen again. Then it does-
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In his nightmare scenario, leaning over his partner's bleeding body, Kim only needs one word to shoot without a second's hesitation. He's never not ready to take that shot. He doesn't need his Eyes.
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Harry is distraught to discover he's killed before- his body remembers it. He wants a drink to soften the feeling. Kim however is impressed with how little he's killed- especially coming from the bloody murder unit. He wants to be 'one of the good ones' (Kim's adamant belief in the possibility of a Good Cop is a whole other can of worms) the kind of cop he would think highly of. Kim is disgusted by cops who kill like it's a game. Espirit gives us a vision of a cop exactly like that, who kills so often it doesn't feel like anything anymore. In a way that is completely mechanical- no thought, no feelings, just a thing your body does. Not unlike the way Kim shoots- like a spring unloaded. Kim has 6 confirmed kills before the tribunal, double the amount Harry has. He doesn't react the same way though-
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It's doesn't bother Kim that he has killed, even if he declines to elaborate on it, and he seems to frown upon (or worry about) Harry's destructive coping mechanism. If they're unable to save Ruby, he says "Control your emotions. We did our job. This won't be the worst thing that happens on this case… believe me. You can't let this break you." When you wake up after the tribunal, he doesn't dwell on the lost lives on either side. Harry's skills call him a killer, a bloodstained killer, but when he tells Kim he also killed he simply nods. He's smoking though. I'm not saying that Kim is heartless or careless, he's rattled by nearly blowing The Pigs' head off, very sorry for the lives lost during the case, and clearly hunted by death, having been surrounded by it for his entire life. But I do think death is a part of the job for him- not just possible civilian causalities, but his own potential death. He speaks plainly about how he might die in the lie of duty, and he narrowly avoided it more than once, with others dying in his place..
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He walked into the line of fire with harry expecting for of them to die, and his quick fingers on the trigger made it so they lived another day. Even if more ghost joined the list that hunts him in his sleep, he is alive. He goes on. He can't afford to fix this habit, as much as he wants to.
So it's so horrible and so touching that when Dros asks "What have you done?" Kim says-
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It's a tragedy, really. A wartime orphan who wanted to be a revolutionary pilot and played with Franconigerian knights, who grew up to be a cop, a job that slowly shapes his body into a killing machine. And when you ask what he does, what you both do, he says keep people alive.
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jasntodds · 5 months ago
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Scars [J.T.]
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Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Summary: Jason lets you trace over his y scar
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, scars, mentions of death, bruises, cuts, general minor injuries, hurt/comfort
Words: 1,765
A/n: I just wanted something a little soft for once. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!
masterlist | request info | tag list
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Jason carries the weight of every horrible, traumatic, and agonizing event that’s ever happened to him across his body, etched in pale and raised lines across him like a used roadmap. He wears them as cruel reminders that this life is unfair and unjust, even when he tries his hardest to make it so. There are some he pays no mind to, and doesn’t even really notice most days because they are there. That’s that. But, there are others…there are others he looks at as a punishment for everything he’s ever done and everything he never was and could never be. They’re reminders, laughing back at him every day, a sinister echo of his mistakes.
Most days, he tries to pay them no mind, either.
You’re sitting on your knees right beside Jason, his side pressed against the bare skin of your calf. Your eyes are trained on his exposed abdomen, showcasing the scars and cuts and bruises he’s collected over the last few years.
It wasn’t that seeing his body covered in new and old injuries was jarring. That was mostly fine. After the first few weeks of being friends, it stopped being jarring because that's just how it is with Jason. He gets hurt sometimes. It comes with the job and you accept that part of him. The bruises and cuts were very rarely ever jarring. The other scars were never really jarring because of course he has them. That always made sense to you. It's the autopsy scar that is jarring.
With the others, he'd told you it comes with the job and then he'd watch your face contort into a scrunch of worry and paranoia over his well-being, something he doesn't think he deserves most days. When the comment didn't ease your worry, he'd kiss you and give his signature cocky grin, a silent promise that he's fine and the conversation would end. The autopsy scar conversation is never so simple.
You knew he died because he told you not long before you made things official. You knew the story about the Joker and his mom. He told you of the horrid night and bits of pieces of the after. But this is your first time seeing the physical damage of the night that still wakes him up in the middle of the night. Your chest aches for him and it's jarring because he did die and he has to carry that kind of weight forever, something you'll swear until the day you die he doesn't deserve.
With delicate fingers, you trace over the long line of the autopsy scar, Jason’s eyes glancing from your hand to your face. His stomach tenses with the movement and you can’t tell if it’s because your hands are cold, it tickles, or he’s uncomfortable. If you know Jason, you’re kind of figuring it’s the third option. So, you glance back to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.
“This okay?” You ask softly.
“It’s fine.” Jason answers, his thumb lightly brushing over your thigh furthest away from him. “Bother you?”
Jason has been cautious not to show you because he knows how he feels about it. He knows that you worry. Seeing some sort of proof of death seems like it might send you spiraling into some sort of tornado of worry until you spin too far away from him. He's been cautious because he adores you and he doesn't want to lose you and he doesn't want it scare you.
You look back to the scar, tracing over it again. “No.” You answer quietly. It hurts your chest because it happened to him. It happened to him and nothing in this world could ever justify the torture and pain he's been through. It doesn't bother you because it is a part of him and you adore him with every beat your heart drums. “Bothers you though.”
Jason’s brows pull together. “How’d you figure?” There’s the slightest bit of a bite in his words like a scared puppy, a default reaction to being seen.
“Why wouldn’t it?” The question leaves your lips freely with unfiltered candor.
Seeing it for the first time, yeah it bothered him. It bothered him because what was the point? It wasn’t some mystery how he died. Maybe it was just legal reasons bullshit that Jason doesn’t care about. Though, he does fully understand that maybe if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t care. Or if it had healed, he wouldn’t care. So, that’s something he can’t really blame Bruce for. Instead, it’s that it’s there. Looking back at him in the mirror. Staring up at him when he looks down. It’s always there. It’s as if he was cut open and the weight of death and punishment and regret scattered over his organs and bones, making sure he understands the weight of his own consequences. He just can’t quite shake it and the scar is the reminder.
"I guess." Jason lets out this shaky breath as his stomach tenses below your fingertips.
"It's okay if it bothers you, Jay." You assure him. "I'd bother me if I were you but..." You pause for just a second, pressing an open palm over some of the raised edges of the scar as your eyes are locked on his. "I hope it doesn't bother you too much because you got to live and I don't care what the other bats thought about it at first because I'm glad you got to come back. And you deserve to let the weight off your shoulders for once." Your eyes go back to the scar and trace up the line from the center of his stomach up to the right side of his chest.
Jason's thumb is rubbing lightly against your skin and he wonders why you make it seem so simple. No part of him thinks you believe it's simple but there's something in the way that you say it that almost gives Jason some sort of faith in the idea of it. That maybe there is a day where it won't feel like he's carrying the weight of the world. Maybe there is a day someday where he won't feel the aching and longing of his bones. You offer him tenderness and kindness when the majority of his life has been nothing but skinned knees and broken hearts.
That feels terrifying, too but...maybe he's tired of running away from things because they're good for him. And good to him.
Seeing the autopsy scar for the first time bothered him. Seeing it yesterday bothered him. But, at this exact point in time with your fingers running along the tattered edges, it doesn’t bother him so much.
“Thank you.” Jason holds his words steady with a sort of caution at the edges. "It's not bothering me now." His voice is quiet as his eyes glance to you and then back to your fingers on his skin.
He is entirely exposed to you now. There’s no going back even if that is absolutely terrifying. Jason keeps himself guarded to protect himself and protect everyone else around him. But, you make letting the guard down a little bit easier. You’re tender and delicate with him, two things no one ever is. At no point have you ever thought less of him for the things he’s done and things he’s seen, or the things that rip his body to shreds. You take him as he is and offer him understanding and kindness, two things Jason has been desperate to get from anyone. And he is so thankful for you.
“Good.” Your voice is quiet before your stare goes back to the scar. “I hope it never bothers you again.”
Jason sits up, closing some of the distance between you while you rest your hands in your lap. His eyes run over your face slowly while the corner of his mouth is pinched barely upwards. He looks content. He looks comfortable. His heart is beating a mile a minute as it’s about to run through his ribs. There’s something fluttering against it, something that feels warm and welcoming in the beating of his heart. There’s something that makes his breathing unsteady without ever sucking the air from his lungs. There is something that feels comfortable and like a home he didn’t think he’d ever find.
Jason leans forward, resting his forehead against yours and your entire body relaxes in that instant. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your cheek before he rests his head in the crook of your neck. You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple before your hands come to his cheeks to pick his head up.
His eyes lock on your eyes and you adore him. You adore him for all that he is today. The scars never really bothered you because they hold him together. All of them have a story that has led Jason Todd to who he is today. They are proof that he is alive. They are proof that even when he was hurt, even when he was murdered, he is alive. The air can be pulled into his lungs and oxygen will circulate through his cells again. He is alive. The autopsy scar is just further proof to you because he shouldn’t have been brought back but he was. And that was for a reason. That scar is just another piece of proof he is meant to be here. It is another mark of how he got here today and you, for one, are eternally thankful that he is here today.
Your thumbs are running over his cheeks and Jason swears he has never felt so wanted by anyone. And he doesn’t feel so damn alone in the world anymore. He feels important and he only hopes he makes you feel the same way. He can only hope you understand how much you mean to him and that he is just as important to you.
Your lips come to his and he melts into your touch as he kisses you back. His hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you in closer. And he thinks he might do everything in his power to have more moments like these with you. You can trace his scars and he can tell you about them and you can exist in the bubble where it is only the two of you. You can trace his scars and he can run his fingers along your thigh and you both can feel wanted and important. And loved.
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Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii
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lihhelsing · 5 months ago
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"Can I get your coffee order?"
STWG daily prompt 6/2/24 (let's pretend it's not two days late): Coming Out Pairing: steddie | tags: coming out, coffee shop au, modern au, meet cute, fluff
Eddie was used to seeing the same guy in the coffee shop every day. It was impossible not to notice him because he was gorgeous and Eddie was a simple man who liked to admire beautiful things. 
So Steve would come in every day and always at the same time, ordering the same thing. Double Espresso with a shot of Vanilla. It suited him, Eddie thought, but he would always see him looking at the menu as if he was considering ordering something different, just to end up with the same thing every day. 
It was kind of cute. 
Sometimes he would sit alone for half an hour, face buried in his phone. Sometimes a loud brunette girl would join him but then they would never stay for long. Eddie didn’t like those days even if he thought she looked like a nice person. 
And then sometimes Steve would come in and order for two, then he would proceed to sit at a table and in a few minutes a girl would join him. Always a different girl, which told Eddie none of them were his girlfriends. 
One could even think this was some sort of job interview because it was pretty clear Steve wasn’t fully into the conversation. He was trying, sure, but after an hour the girl would inevitably excuse herself and leave. Steve would hang out for a few more minutes and then leave too, not looking back. 
And he’d do it all over again on a different day. 
Eddie couldn’t even feel guilty about paying attention. Steve always came in when the rush hour had passed and the coffee shop was mostly empty, and Eddie didn’t have much to do. And yeah, sure he was also a little obsessed with him so he was curious what was all that about. 
Surely Steve didn’t seem the kind of guy to have dating issues. 
The day Eddie noticed something was different was when Steve came in and ordered a Chai Latte. For anyone else, this might mean nothing, but Eddie knew better and he had watched Steve for long enough to know that if he finally changed his order after months, something was up. 
He didn’t want to look like a creep so he smiled like he always did and thanked the fat tip Steve left him, like he always did. And maybe Eddie flirted a little, but who could blame him? Steve was just too handsome for his own good and Eddie was just a man. 
Eddie gave him his drink and politely waited for a few minutes just to make sure Steve wasn’t expecting anyone, and then he finally moved in. 
“Hey, how’s your drink?” Eddie asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Steve looked up at him through thick eyelashes and Eddie wanted to die a little. 
“Oh, it’s good. I never had one of these so I can’t really compare it to anything else, but I like how it tastes.”
Eddie hummed, “Well, tell you what, I make a mean Matchá if you ever feel like broadening your horizons.”
Steve chuckled and nodded, “I might take you up on that, actually.”
They stood in silence and Eddie was ready to accept his defeat when Steve spoke again. 
“I just… Started to realize I might want to try different things.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow, “how so?”
“Well, I used to drink the same coffee every day and it was good, don’t get me wrong. But I kept looking and looking and it felt like I was... Missing something,” Steve frowned as he spoke, almost as if he was talking about coffee but thinking about something else. 
“It’s what they say, don’t knock it til you try it, am I right?”
Steve chuckled and Eddie was under the impression he was just being polite. 
“For sure. It’s just hard sometimes, to try new things. Even if you are… Curious.”
“I say just go for it. The worst that can happen is you spend a few bucks on something you will never want to drink again, but if that ever happens I got you. I’ll get you something different on the house,” Eddie said and then he winked because he was a sick little man. 
The blush that crept onto Steve’s cheek was beautiful, though, so he was only half-sorry. 
“Oh, what if… It’s not coffee that I want to try?” Steve said, not meeting Eddie’s eyes. 
Eddie smiled and motioned his hand to the drink menu, “Lucky for you we have an assortment of drinks like refreshers and matchá and even some teas-“
“I mean, what if this isn’t about drinks?” 
Now Eddie was completely lost. He looked back to meet Steve’s eyes and there was an intensity behind them that gave him chills. 
“What do you mean?”
“I, um…” Steve looked around as if making sure the place was empty and still lowered his voice a little. “What if I’m not as straight as I always thought I was?”
Eddie tried to contain his surprise and forced his expression to remain neutral, not wanting to spook him. 
“That’s ok, too. Lord knows I’m gay as it comes and it took me a few tries to figure it out,” Eddie chuckled, but Steve’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “I mean, you don’t have to be gay either! You can be bi or pan or-“
“Sorry, I made this awkward. I’m sorry. I’ve just been having these feelings and Robin says I can always talk to her but it feels that if I even ask it will be real and then if I turn out to be just confused then she will be disappointed because she always said I was her straight token friend but I know she would be happy if I wasn’t-“
“Hey, hey,” Eddie moved his hand and touched Steve’s shoulder lightly. He just hoped he wasn’t crossing a line. That definitely wasn’t the first time a customer said something incredibly personal out of the blue, but it was the first time someone was coming out to him like that. 
Steve looked up at him with huge brown eyes and Eddie felt his insides melting a little. Here it was, this cute guy having a sexuality crisis and just looking even cuter. 
“I don’t know you and obviously don’t know this friend of yours. Robin, is it? But if she loves you, and I’m assuming she does, she will love you no matter what. Even if you have to come out to her as… Straight?” Eddie said that and got a snort back from Steve. 
At least that was better than the desolation he had in his eyes before. 
“I guess you’re right,” Steve said, nodding his head. 
“And hey, you can definitely try things out and figure out you were straight all along, but from my experience, straight people don’t usually question their sexuality or even feel the curiosity to do so. They just are. So my best bet would be on you being one of us. Assuming your friend Robin is also not straight.”
“Oh, definitely not,” Steve said, laughing and he just looked so much better like that. 
“Well, ok Steve, then my job here is done! I’m sure Robin will have much better advice to give to you, but you can always count on me to try different coffees,” and there it was, the fucking wink again. Who did Eddie think he was? 
Steve blushed again and now Eddie could see they were pretty damn close. He slowly pulled his hand from Steve’s shoulder as to not make him uncomfortable, but it seemed that Eddie’s pep talk had done the trick because now Steve had this glint in his eyes. 
“Can I buy you coffee?” he asked, smiling slowly. 
“Uh, what?”
“You know, since I’m already trying things I thought it would be nice to try uh… A Matchá, you said? And a… Date?”
Holy fucking Jesus. Steve was fucking smooth. Eddie felt his cheeks getting warm and he looked around to conclude they were still alone at the coffee shop. There was not a single reason for him to turn this down even if Steve ended up figuring out he was straight. Yeah, fat chance. 
“Lead the way, big boy,” Eddie motioned for the counter and Steve smiled, nodding and following him right into their first date. 
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violetrainbow412-blog · 4 days ago
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Day 27: afternoon stroll
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Masterlist flufftober 🎃
Warnings: moral dilemmas, age gap (r is 25 and Spencer is 40) a cocktail of feelings, relationship between ex-teacher and ex-student, and I think that's it!
Going grocery shopping was one of the most ordinary things you could do. There wasn’t much to it, so it wasn’t exactly an activity that brought you much excitement.
However, that day, it wasn't just a routine. You knew it when, at the end of the line in one of the checkout lanes, you recognized a tall man in a suit. It had been three years since you last saw your professor, and, to be honest, just the sight of him made your heart race just like it used to. I'd dare to say it was even more intense now.
You tried to keep your composure, and for a second, you wondered what you should do. You glanced down at yourself, grateful you’d decided to wear something decent that day: straight-cut black pants, a long-sleeved, lightweight white shirt over a black bra, intentionally chosen to show through a bit.
You hesitated, wondering if you should walk up and get in the same line he was in, or maybe choose the one next to his just to wave hello, or if it would be inappropriate to go up and hug him, or if…
Oh, no. He’d seen you. You couldn’t help feeling a rush of excitement at the way his face lit up when he saw you or at the smile that spread across his lips, but there it was. He was just as handsome as before, maybe even more with the passing years. He looked gorgeous.
"Hey! It’s been so long!"
Your feet practically moved on their own toward him, still reeling from the whirlwind of feelings and passions you’d once harbored for your professor. You knew it was wrong, ethically and morally inappropriate, but you couldn’t help feeling what you felt.
"It really has been, Professor," you managed to respond.
You moved as if to initiate a hug, which he returned without hesitation, holding you around your waist with his free hand and pressing a gentlemanly kiss to your cheek. You felt like you could die from how red your face must’ve been.
"Please, don’t call me 'Professor.' It feels strange now," he smiled, amused. "I’m just Spencer."
"Alright then, Pro– Spencer," you corrected yourself. You savored his name on your lips and realized it felt just right.
"So, what have you been up to? Come, I’ll let you take my place in line," he offered.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ll just get in line behind you.”
“I insist,” he said cordially. You could never say no to him; you never could.
You ended up giving in, feeling oddly cared for when he offered to help with what you were carrying. He was still every bit the gentleman, the kind you rarely encountered anymore.
“I’ve been well,” you replied, remembering he’d asked you a question. You were standing completely in front of him, not wanting to miss a second of looking at him. “I’m working at an accounting firm now. It’s not my dream job, but at least it’s stable and pays the bills. What about you? Are you still teaching, or did you go back to the Behavioral Analysis Unit?”
“I went back to the unit,” he said, in that gentle voice you’d always adored hearing. “But I retired just a month ago.”
“Why?”
“A lot of things happened, and… I don’t know. I just felt it was time to take a break. They said the doors are always open for me, but I’m trying to live as peacefully as I can.”
“Well, that makes sense,” you encouraged him. “I’m glad to hear that; your health is the most important thing.”
There was something in Spencer’s expression you couldn’t quite read. Maybe it was just your love-struck mind imagining that he was looking at you with a mix of nostalgia, affection, and pride. His brown eyes shone in the sunlight, and it was enough to make you feel dizzy.
"Yes, but honestly, I’ve started feeling a bit restless with the inactivity. Next month, I might either pursue another PhD or find a job in my field that’s less demanding."
"Sometimes I forget you’re a genius," you murmured without thinking, your voice laced with pure admiration. "It’s so normal for you to take on a PhD as a hobby."
"Knowledge always opens doors. The more you know, the closer you get to finding the truth of who you are."
For a moment, you felt like you were back in one of his lectures and smiled shyly. He was such a mature man, with such a wealth of wisdom, that you could listen to him talk for hours about anything and never get bored.
Your gaze stayed locked on his for a few seconds, almost hypnotized, until the cashier called your attention to start ringing up your items.
Spencer studied your purchases carefully: a loaf of bread, a pack of cranberries, yogurt, some shampoo, and men’s deodorant. He thought about that last product. He had no doubt a woman could use such things, but it didn’t quite seem like your style. You smelled like something he identified as peonies and roses, so it didn’t make sense for you to choose a pine-scented deodorant.
It must be for a man. A man you were in a relationship with.
You paid. Then it was Spencer’s turn: a bag of coffee, honey, a package of walnuts, almonds, and dried fruit, a few pens, a notebook on sale, a jar of pain relievers, and a bottle of vitamins. Finally, there was a package of diapers for a newborn and a bib with the phrase: Snack now, think later.
Just as he had done with you, you analyzed the items, and, of course, that last one caught your attention.
He wasn’t buying those baby items just for fun, was he?
Your heart sank a bit as you understood what it implied: he’d just become a father.
“Thank you, miss. Have a nice day,” Spencer said, as polite as ever.
You stayed out of courtesy, watching him put his items in a plastic bag. Then he started to walk, and you followed.
"I guess this is where we say goodbye, huh?" you said. You didn’t want to sound hurt, but it came through. “It was nice seeing you, Spencer.”
"Do you want me to walk you home?"
That question left you in a dilemma. You looked at his left hand for a wedding ring, but there wasn’t one. The thought that your professor, whom you admired so much and had fallen in love with, might be the kind of man who took off his wedding ring to seduce young women disgusted you.
The sound of a phone interrupted the moment; it was his ringing.
“Hello?” he murmured. You hadn’t said goodbye, so you stayed in place. “I got Pampers, yes. I read that’s the best brand for newborns; they’re super absorbent and have a wetness indicator. And I found a really cute bib. Uh-huh, I’ll be there soon. Did you invite everyone? Great, I can’t wait to see them. See you, take care.”
Hearing his warm, affectionate tone made you feel envious; you wished you were the woman on the other end of the line.
“Your wife?” you asked.
“Wife? No, not at all,” he shook his head, almost offended. “That was my former unit chief; she just had a baby, and we agreed to meet up today with some friends.”
“Oh! For a… for a moment, I thought that was for your baby.”
“No,” he chuckled softly. “I haven’t had that good fortune yet.”
You’d never really wanted children, but at that moment, your insides turned completely at just the thought of him speaking to you with the same warmth he had with his coworker.
“Do you really need to hurry to that get-together? I mean, if you’re still planning to walk me home?”
“Not at all.”
“I take the metro from Station 17 to get there.”
“That’s funny! I’m going to the same station. We could walk there together and then go our separate ways.”
You eagerly agreed to the idea, and the two of you left the store. In the first block, you talked about general things. He noticed you’d dyed your hair, and you complimented his, which looked really good.
The tension between you two was palpable, and all you wanted to do was let out the feelings you’d kept hidden all this time. At first, you’d thought it was just a silly crush, mere admiration. But as time went on, it became harder to deny the obvious. You wanted to be his favorite; you wanted him to focus on you, so you’d done everything to be his best student.
Five years after meeting him, you knew for sure that what you felt was love. He was a bright light, and you were just a moth, desperate to get closer.
"It feels like it was just yesterday when I was running around campus, worried about exams, essays… but I never forgot your classes. You were always a different kind of professor. You didn’t just care about us understanding the material; you cared about how we thought. I’d never felt so listened to," you whispered, watching the leaves fall from the now-orange trees.
You were walking through an incredibly quiet neighborhood; it was almost just you and him.
"Well, you were a brilliant student. You always asked questions that made me think, and that doesn’t happen often."
Oh, that validation. It felt like an elixir running through your veins.
“Was it just my imagination, or was I your favorite student?”
“It wouldn’t be ethical to say.”
“I’m not your student anymore, so you can be completely honest with me.”
Spencer shifted slightly, as if mulling over your words. You were right; you weren’t his student anymore, and he needed to stop seeing you as such.
“I wouldn’t say there was favoritism, but I particularly enjoyed working with you. You were very dedicated, your work was always flawless, and you always asked how you could improve. I think it was just that you were the kind of student every professor dreams of having.”
“Oh, Doctor Reid, I’m blushing,” you joked, though you couldn’t help the flirty tone that slipped in. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if we’d met under different circumstances. If I hadn’t been in college, as your student.”
It was a subtle but significant statement.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, it’s just… you’re such an interesting person, and sometimes I wish I’d met you in a less formal setting. Maybe we could’ve been friends.”
Spencer looked at you for a moment, as if weighing your words. His lips curved into a faint smile before his gaze turned more serious, as if allowing himself to be vulnerable, if only for a second.
“You know, I’m not sure we could’ve been just friends,” he confessed, his voice soft, almost a whisper that the wind could’ve carried away at any moment. “You were always more than just an outstanding student. You made me question things I thought I had all figured out.”
Your heart skipped a beat at those words. It was like he was finally opening that door both of you had kept closed for so long. The world around you seemed to fall silent, wrapping you in a bubble where only your gazes and the sound of your shallow breaths existed.
"Really?" you smiled, trying not to let on just how deeply his words affected you. “I always thought I was just another student to you, but… you always felt like someone special to me. Like… like everything I did only made sense because you were there, listening.”
Spencer laughed softly, a laugh that almost sounded nervous, as if he himself were processing his feelings.
"Maybe you see me as someone who has all the answers, but if you knew how many times I tried to avoid… what I was feeling."
He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, as if afraid to expose too much. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest, and everything around you spun.
“Sometimes I wondered if I was just imagining it.”
“No, you weren’t imagining it. It wasn’t easy for me. I knew I was crossing an emotional boundary, even though I never let it go further. There was an attraction, of course. But it was my responsibility to stay professional. I couldn’t fail you in that.”
The tension between you grew with every step you took. The street seemed to stretch endlessly as both of you searched for the right words to express what you really felt. Minutes passed, but the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, each second you shared without speaking seemed to fill the air with emotions that didn’t need explaining. And yet, deep down, you knew that time was running out. In the distance, you could already see the entrance to the metro station.
“You know, I never thought seeing you again after so long would affect me this much,” you said finally, not daring to look at him, as if admitting it in a low voice made you feel safer. He watched you with a mixture of tenderness and uncertainty.
“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d feel this way, either. I’d convinced myself that… that what I felt was simply admiration.”
His words made you stop, looking into his eyes with a surprised expression. It was a gesture that denoted an unusual transparency in him, as if he felt more vulnerable than he was willing to admit.
“Admiration?” you smiled, though you felt a pressure in your chest you could hardly bear. “And now? What do you feel now, Spencer?”
Spencer. He was no longer your professor; he was simply Spencer.
He lowered his gaze, searching for words he’d likely been repressing for years. The sound of his unsteady breathing was all you heard before he spoke again, in a voice low but clear.
“What I feel now… I don’t think there’s an easy word for it. But it’s something I thought I’d never have to confront.”
You were taken aback by that confession, but it filled you with such a wave of relief that it almost made you dizzy. You felt vulnerable, exposed, but also free. You decided it was time to stop measuring your words, to stop being afraid.
“Spencer, I… I fell in love with you when I was still in college. I always told myself it was just a crush, that it would pass. But I carried you in my mind, in my memories. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I graduated. And now I can’t deny that, even after all these years, I still love you.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if processing everything you had just said. When he looked at you again, his eyes were like a deep ocean of emotions, and you couldn’t help but feel as if the entire world had stopped around you.
“What about your boyfriend?”
You didn’t want to ask how he’d picked up on that. But in the end, denying it would’ve been useless.
“My life hasn’t turned out the way I expected. I’m in a relationship that doesn’t fulfill me, and when I compare it to what I felt with you, even though nothing happened, I realize how empty it feels now. It’s like… I don’t know, like I’m just settling.”
You were still standing on the sidewalk. The wind brushed softly against your ears.
“It’s hard when you realize what you have isn’t what you thought it would be. Comfort isn’t enough; you want something deeper, something meaningful. And sometimes, I feel just as lost. My career has been my life for so long that, even though I’m successful, there are moments when I wonder if I’ve missed out on something important. Something I may never have. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s too late.”
You felt like you were going to throw up. All you wanted was for it to end, for him to lean in and kiss you.
You took a step forward.
“There’s nothing between us now. I’m no longer your student.”
"I’ve thought about that. But it wasn’t just the fact that you were my student. The age gap also complicated things. I mean, I’m fifteen years older than you. I couldn’t ignore how inappropriate that would’ve been."
“Fifteen years… yeah, that’s quite a bit. But I don’t think that would’ve mattered so much if we hadn’t been in the situation we were in.”
“It’s not just that, sweetheart,” sweetheart. “You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you, full of possibilities. I couldn’t allow myself… to interfere with that. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“You’re talking as if you’re condemning me to a life sentence. And it’s not like that.”
Spencer took a deep breath, holding eye contact for a moment before speaking honestly.
“Still, the age difference will always be there.”
“What are you worried about? What people might think?”
“It’s not just that, but how it would affect you in the long term. A fifteen-year age gap can be a chasm.”
“Maybe. But connections don’t always follow set rules. What I felt then was real. What I feel now is real, too. And I don’t think age changes that.”
Were you seriously confessing your love to this man on that street? After seeing him again for less than an hour? Were you really that desperate for him?
In theory, he had already confessed to you. And that was only proof of how much you both had longed for each other, despite the years that had passed.
In a bold move, you took another step toward him. Your hands reached up to his cheeks, and he felt like he was out of breath.
“You’re an extraordinary man, Spencer. You’re gentle, intelligent, you’re a gentleman, you’re… you’re like a dream. And any woman would be lucky to have you. But if you don’t want me to be that woman, I respect that.”
“Don’t do that,” he groaned. Your fingers felt like fire burning his skin. “Don’t make me say something that isn’t true.”
“Sometimes you meet the right person at the wrong time. You want that family, you want to experience everything you missed out on. I want security, attention… I want you.”
He closed his eyes, defeated. A storm of emotions swirled within him.
“We need to take this slow; it’s… it’s a lot to process.”
You nodded and stepped back. For a moment, he thought he’d made a mistake, especially when he was met with the coldness of his skin now that you weren’t touching him. But a second later, you handed him your phone.
“Give me your number. After we’ve both had time to think about this, you’ll call me, and we’ll go out to dinner. If you’re not sure, we’ll just go our separate ways. If you are… we’ll decide what to do.”
It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a command. There was no room for argument.
He typed in the digits, almost trembling with nerves, and felt ridiculous for showing himself so vulnerable in front of you. But you were breaking down every ethical boundary he believed he had; dating a former student… what kind of person did that make him?
However, as he returned your phone and looked at you, he realized that you were no longer a child. He was not taking advantage of you at all; you were an adult capable of making your own decisions. And you were choosing him. Above everyone else, he was the one you wanted.
You called, and Reid's barely modern phone vibrated in his pocket, signaling that he now had your number too. Spencer watched you with a mix of nostalgia and resolve, as if this were the last second before the world began to spin again and forced them back into their lives.
Finally, he sighed, lowering his gaze slightly, as if he wanted to hide a vulnerability he rarely showed.
"I don’t want to hurt you," he said quietly, with a sincerity that broke your heart. "I don’t know if it’s fair that, after so long, we reopen this door just to risk things not working out."
"We’ll never know if we don’t try," you whispered, trying to stay calm.
He nodded slowly, processing your words, and then, very slowly, took a step toward you, getting close enough for the murmur of his voice to be almost a whisper next to your ear.
"Okay," was all he managed to say. His eyes reflected the same longing and uncertainty that you felt inside.
You walked in silence to the station, and once there, there was no verbal goodbye. You simply moved closer to him, wrapped him in a hug, and he responded with a deep kiss on the cheek.
He went to the right. You went to the left.
Once you were seated on the subway, you felt your phone vibrate with a message.
Hi. I’m Spencer. Please keep in touch. I don’t want to miss you.
And all the way home, you smiled.
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allbark-no-bite · 11 months ago
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marriage and honor.
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jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.5k)
summary: the Navy has already taken two people from your life, and you don’t intend to let there be a third. that is until Jake Seresin walks into your life
warnings: severe plot holes, mentions of character death, swearing
authors note: based off of the movie Purple Hearts. it’s a great movie and i highly suggest watching it! please bear with me in the beginning of this, the plot holes fix themselves, i promise lol. i literally threw this together because i wrote one scene for shits and giggles and had to commit to it
(read parts two and three here: december and devotion, cats and christmas)
————————————————————————
No one ever expects to have to bury their brother at fifteen. Kinda just like no one expects to have to bury their other brother at eighteen. But you do it the first time and then you do it again three years later. It's a bit like deja vu the second time, like you're reliving the actual nightmare all over again. Except this time there's no one to hold your hand and tell you it's all going to be alright because he's dead and buried too.
They both die honorable deaths in service to their country. At least that's what they say at the memorials. You're not so sure there's anything comforting about dying honorably. They're both still dead, honored or not.
Raised by your grandparents, you'd grown up the youngest of three on a military base smack dab in the middle of San Diego, better yet known as Fightertown USA. True military brats, your old brothers enlisted straight out of high school, one after the other. As their young and impressionable kid sister, you worshiped the ground they walked on and had your heart set on following in their footsteps. That was of course, until they both went and died.
'Sometime these things just happen', is what you were told. And you know, freak accidents do happen. Engines fail, training exercises go awry, safety precautions are ignored. But that doesn't make up for the fact that lightning has, against all odds, stuck the same place twice.
So after the Navy takes away not one but two people from your life, you swear off all things to do with military life. The moment you graduate high school you pay out of pocket just to move off of the base into a shitty the-bedroom-and-bathroom-are-in-the-same-place apartment. You go to college and get the kind of degree that looks good on paper but you can't really get a job with. But it's fine because it helped you to put the past behind you and move on. So much that when your grandmother passes away unexpectedly, leaving your grandfather widowed, you're able to stomach moving back closer to home to take care of him.
At least, you'd thought that you had moved on.
Now, standing in the middle of the courthouse wearing what had been your college graduation dress (the only white dress you could find on such short notice) and watching the man before you slip a ring on your finger, you're not so sure. As a matter of a fact, you actually feel sick, queasy like you might have to bend over the nearest trashcan to get the blood rushing to your head again. That might would be a good idea because what the hell were you thinking.
Jake must take notice of the expression on your face because he offers you a weak smile, his pink lips pressed together. The same thought must be running through his mind too because he also looks like he might be sick at any moment.
What the hell were either of you thinking?
"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Thankfully the minister is too bored looking with his own job to notice that both of you are looking worse for wear. He also completely forgets to say 'you may now kiss the bride', which is another thing to be thankful for. That might have been the straw that broke the camel's back and sent both you and Jake running for the hills. Instead he mumbles a unenthusiastic congratulations and departs from the room, leaving you and Jake standing numbly side by side.
In the following seconds after the minister leaves the room, silence settles between the two of you, partially due to shock and partially because you don't even know what to say. It's a sight, Jake in his pristine navy dress whites and you in your too short college graduation dress.
Finally, Jake clears his throat, swallowing. "Well, there's no turning back now."
*queue rewind noise* 
You may be wondering how we got here.
*six days ago*
"C'mon baby, you didn't think that was funny? Girls usually love that line."
He'd been after you all night, smiling, cracking jokes, buying you beers. You had to admit, he was nothing if not persistant.
"Unfortunately for you, I don't date funny guys." Despite your tone, you're actually genuinely amused by the situation. He's trying so hard, and it's getting him absolutely nowhere.
He's handsome, without a doubt the most attractive man at the bar, but he could be the most attractive man in the world and you still wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Not with that smile and defiantly not with that uniform on.
"And why is that?" he laughs, undeterred by your blatant disinterest. His friends are watching, have been watching the two of you do this dance all night, and he's not about to back down now.
You watch the smile lines that appear on his tanned face, the way his eyes crinkle in amusement as he awaits on your answer. He's probably a few years your senior, early thirties if that's anything to go by.
"Funny guys are dangerous. They make you laugh and laugh and then boom you're naked."
His smile twitches and yeah, you can be funny too, wise guy.
"Is that where you think this is going?" he asks.
"Where else would it be going?"
And that's how it all started. The beginning of the end.
"You know navy spouses get a monthly stipend and are allowed to live on base?"
You remain facing the bar, peeling at the label on your bottle, not bothering to glance to your side. "You know, I really fucking wish Natasha would keep her mouth shut."
"(Y/n)—"
"It's no one else's fucking business what—"
He grabs the seat of your stool, nearly jerking it out from under you as he pulls it closer to his own. "Listen to me," he growls, a stark change from his usual demeanor.
Stubbornly leaning away so that you're not so close, you regard him with suspicious and narrowed eyes. You raise an eyebrow as if to say he's got your attention, however unwillingly.
"Right now, we're both in a tight spot, okay?"
You knew about his dad. Heard the whole spiel from Natasha— who you're learning that while, your best friend, cannot be trusted to keep her mouth shut— about how they weren't on good terms, hadn't talked since Jake got into the academy, and suddenly he calls out of the blue to tell Jake that he'd had enough of his son's playing around and that it was time for him to start thinking about getting married. That if he didn't within the next few months, he'd arrange the whole thing himself.
"You need a place to live—" You shush him, eyes darting to the people around you. You don't need anyone knowing that you can't exactly afford to pay your rent. Jake rolls his eyes because he doubts anyone could hear him even if he was yelling with how loud it is in the bar, but he lowers his voice regardless. "You need a place to live, and I need to get my old man off of my back..." He trails off, as if you should know where he's going with this.
You don't. You're just staring at him with an increasingly annoyed expression on your face, wondering how soon you can get out of this conversation.
He takes a deep breath and sighs. 
"Hear me out, okay? What if we get married?"
You had actually laughed in his face at first, and Jake was so dead serious about it that he didn't even dwell on the fact that it was the first time you had laughed at something that he'd said.
"Not a chance in hell, Seresin,"  had been your second response. But that's the thing with pretty guys, they can be awfully convincing.
It all happens so fast that you have metaphorical whiplash. Next thing you know, you're wearing a brand new diamond on your finger and going out to the bar with his entire squad the night before their deployment.
Of course, they're all a bit shocked at first. You would be too. You and Jake hadn't exactly been even remotely civil with each other just a few days prior. But if any of them are suspicious of your's and Jake's sudden union, they don't let on, all too happy to have something to celebrate before they ship out. Fanboy and Payback have each brought their wives and Natasha her girlfriend as well. You suppose you're expected to mingle with them, maybe shed a tear or two over the shared bond that your partners are going across the country, but you can't really find a way to connect with them so you kind of just avoid them altogether. You do feel bad, sitting there without a care in the world while they all try to offer comfort and reassurance to each other. But you don't really know what else to do because it's not like you're exactly sad.
Thankfully Javy, or as he's known, Coyote, stands up and raises his near empty bottle of beer in the air and saves you from anymore uncomfortable sitting. "I'd like to make a toast! To the newlyweds!" You spoke too soon. The table cheers and raises their bottles in response, all of the attention turning to where you and Jake are sitting. Cheeks immediately flushing, you have to refrain from sinking down in your seat. Jake is grinning, accepting the few rough pats on the back that he receives from Rooster beside him.
And just when you think that's the worst it's going to get, it gets worse.
"Kiss!"
You're not sure who starts it, but like teenage boys, the entire squad parrots in unison.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
At first Jake just laughs and shakes his head good naturedly, shrugging off the insistent urging of his friends, and you think that's going to be the end of it. But the chanting doesn't stop and finally Jake turns towards you. Your face is probably red hot and undeniably panicked. Heart racing, you try to read him in the half second that you're given as he leans and wraps his arm around you. Is he going to kiss you? Are you supposed to kiss him?
Neither option happens. Jake's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side and at the last moment, he turns to press a kiss to your cheek. A series of disappointed boos follow but they are drowned out by clapping for the most part. He's uncomfortably close, closer than you ever would have liked to be to Jake Seresin, but you have to remind yourself that it's all for show. When Jake does turn away, you can still feel the warmth of his lips smeared against your cheek. Even so, he hasn't let go of you pressed into his side. 
Your heart still racing, you reason with yourself that if Jake can play the part, you might as well too, and under that pretense, allow yourself to hide your face into his shoulder to conceal it's redness. The smell of his cologne washes over you, and oddly enough, you don't hate it. It's subtle, with a hit of what might be amber, and nothing like the overwhelmingly masculine scent that you would have pegged him for. 
If Jake finds your sudden willingness to touch him strange, he doesn't comment on it, likely assuming that you're just trying to make this thing between the two of you seem real. You somewhat reluctantly pull away when Coyote's voice raises again.
"And here's to shooting down some fucking MiGs!"
Again, the table erupts into a chorus of cheering and hollering. You still, allowing Jake to fully pull away from your side while the proclamation rings out in your head. It's a very grounding moment, and suddenly you feel very alone sitting at the table. No one seems to have noticed your shift in mood. Maybe you're the only one put off by Javy's statement because this is their reality. There are people who are not coming home from this mission; everyone just likes to assume it won't be them. You know better.
You can't help it, the words just come out of your mouth. "That's a fucked up thing to say."
It's the first time you've really spoken up the entire night and all heads turn towards you. Based on the look in Jake's eyes, which is a bit apprehensive, as if he knows this is headed nowhere good, you realize you probably should have just kept your mouth shut.
Payback shifts uncomfortably in his chair while the rest of the crew glances around the table wearing varying states of confusion. Their gazes shift from you to Jake, as if waiting for some sort of explanation. 
Coyote is the first to break the silence. "Look, sweetheart, that's just the way things are. Here in the Navy, that's a badge of honor. Your boy Hangman here is the only one of us with a confirmed air-to-air kill."
"(Y/n)—", Jake attempts to interject, but you're not about to let him explain himself to you in front of all these people.
You set your jaw and swallow back the anger threatening to rise up in your throat. "Yeah, because killing people is so honorable."
Coyote scoffs. "We're just doing our jobs. And if that means taking down a few planes while we're at it, so be it."
"Your job is to protect people," you snap. "There are people out there who have families—"
"Alright, that's enough—" Jake begins to interject for the second time, but this time it's Coyote who interrupts him.
"Come on, man. You're really going to let her say that kinda shit—"
You stand up. "I don't need his permission to—"
"I SAID ENOUGH." This time it's startling enough to cut both of you off. "(Y/n), what is your fucking problem?" Jake snaps.
You flinch at the harshness of his question.
Your eyes travel around the quiet table, where everyone is holding their breath, and then back to Jake. His green eyes reflect a type of pissed off what would be terrifying if you weren't so angry yourself.
A small, logical part of you knows that he has a right to be angry. You've picked a fight for no apparent reason in front of his friends and he hasn't the slightest clue why. It's not his fault your brothers are dead and you blame the Navy for it.
Regardless, that doesn't make up for the fact that you're pissed off by his defense of what Coyote has said. Even though you probably owe him an explanation, you're not about to answer him when he's just yelled at you. You also know that if you don't say something, he's going to and you'd rather die before letting him tell you off in front of all these people. You abruptly push away from the table and storm off for the bar top. You can hear Jake chasing after you.
"(Y/n)."
You ignore him in favor of heading towards the back door of the Hard Deck, pushing past people regardless of whether they're in your way or not. Being slightly more considerate, you can hear Jake moving much slower as he excuses himself through the crowd.
"(Y/n)—"
You come to a stop once you reach the door, spinning on your heels with a fire in your eyes.
"What's my problem?!"
Behind you, you can hear the loud jesting and jeering of his friends back at the table. They're still ruffled with excitement from your outburst, and Coyote's voice follows your retreating back. "Jesus man, get your girl under control."
I'm not his girl, you want to snap. He doesn't own me.
Jake has stopped a few feet away from you. 
"What's my fucking problem?! My problem is that your friends are sitting over there calling murder honor."
Jake sighs harshly though his nose. Shaking his head, green eyes looking up, he begins, "He didn't mean—"
"No. I know what he meant, Jake. You're all a bunch of cowards. You're all too goddamn scared to admit that maybe you're not doing as much good as you thought over there, and so you just justify it by saying all killing is good killing, right?" you spit.
His vibrant green eyes harden but he doesn't respond. "That's some real goddamn honor, right, Jake?" you repeat, angrier this time, wanting more than just some watered down reaction from him. If there's one thing that pisses you off about Jake, it's that you've never gotten anything more than what he's conditioned himself to respond with. It's like he's locked up in this stupid box of his and the most you can ever get out of him is a glance. You want him to be angry with you.
"That's enough." His jaw is tight, and you can tell that even despite his lowered voice and rather subdued demeanor, you've hit a nerve.
"Admit it. Admit that you—“
"(Y/n)." His voice adopts a seriousness that you've never heard from him before. It sounds almost dangerous.
Jake steps towards you and for a moment you think you've won. And then in the moment following that, you actually think that he's going to get physically angry with you. Your heart stalls. Jake's a big guy, a naval aviator, and no matter how good he sells himself to be, he could hurt you if he wanted too. You would never have pegged him as someone who would put his hands on a girl, even after only knowing him for a week, but a man is a man, perfectly ironed uniform or not.
Only he doesn't. Instead he steps into your space and leans in closer than you've  ever been before. His hand presses into your back, firmly pulling you into his chest so that you have no choice but to shift closer to him, your bodies molding together. "I said that's enough. They can see us arguing."
The press of his mouth to your ear conceals the exchange of your conversation from the listening table. You can smell his cologne on the starched collar of his uniform.
"I don't care if they see us—" Pushing your palm into his chest, you try to reestablish the distance between you, but like a brick wall, Jake doesn't budge.
"You realize that we have to make this look real?" he hisses. "From here on out, they're watching everything we do. The government is watching everything we do. Do you understood that?" His voice is tense, and it sounds more urgent than angry now.
Standing there, you realize his heart is thumping heavily beneath your palm. His body is uncomfortably rigid, like a scared dog waiting for its owner to show up and see the mess he's made. Behind you, the table has gone relatively quite. Rooster murmurs something along the lines of, "It's a little early for there to be trouble in paradise already."
Someone—Coyote—responds, "I don't think he thought this through, man. They won't last two weeks."
Jake's eyes meet yours, and you know he can hear them too. You swallow, trying to relax a little in his grasp. He's right, you have to make this look real, and fighting right off the bat doesn't exactly look good.
"Are they still looking at us?" You finally ask, leery now to even speak too loud.
Jake breathes a sigh of relief beside your ear, taking your sudden quiet as cooperation. "Yeah, just keep talking, okay? Act like we're working it out."
Despite trying to appear more comfortable than you are, you don't move your hand from his chest. The coarse material of his dress whites rises and falls steadily beneath your palm. It's calming in a sense, and you try to focus on its rhythm rather than the fact that you're so close that you can feel the heat of his mouth beside your ear.
"Still looking?" You ask after a few moments pass.
He hums. "Yep."
"Well then what do we do? We can't just stand like this forever." The longer you stand together, the more details you become aware of. Like the fact that his face is freshly shaven against your cheek and that he must have brushed his teeth before this because his breath smells like Listerine.
"Look at me."
"What?" You ask, your brow furrowing as he pulls away. His hand that had been holding your waist firmly in place lifts to grip your jaw.
"You're going to have to kiss me," he explains, glancing briefly over your shoulder.
"What?" Before you can even protest, he's leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours. Without the time to process what exactly is happening given your state of alarm, all you can do is go along with it. His lips mold against yours in what might be the most borderline tame kiss you've ever had. Despite this, you are reluctantly surprised to note how good of a kisser he is. It's just forceful enough to let you know he's in control but not so much that it's unpleasant. His lips are full and taste vaguely of his mouth wash.
You don't kiss him back.
It makes no difference to the group behind you whether you actually kiss or not; they can't tell from this distance and all they have to do is believe it happened. It's more for your own self preservation than anything. It's one thing to play the part, it's another thing to get caught up in it and catch feelings. And with Jake Seresin, that was a dangerous game to play. You'd already felt it, him prying his way under your skin when he'd held you at the table and the smell of his cologne filled your sense. It would be that easy.
To his credit, Jake lingers just long enough to make the kiss believable before pulling away. Even si, it still feels uncomfortably long. He leans back and you don't miss the fact that he wipes his hand across his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters under his breath, looking away.
"Jake..." you begin, immediately feeling bad, but he stops you.
"Whatever, (Y/n). It's fine." He won't look you in the eyes now. You turn to look over your shoulder, desperate to get yourself out of this increasingly bad situation .
"They're not looking," you say, finding the table now amicably chatting with each other rather than focused on the two of you. The sudden PDA must have finally diverted their attention. "...you can step away now."
"Right," he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. Jake drops his hand from your waist and steps back like he's glad to finally put some distance between the two of you. So much for making this look natural.
You return to the table shortly after, in hand to make it appear as if you've made up and smiling tightly when Bob cheerily welcomes you back to break the awkward silence. Once seated, you drop each other's hand beneath the table immediately. The rest of the evening is spent avoiding contributing to conversations that involve the other. If anyone notices, they don't comment on the fact that the two of you hardly look at each other for the rest of the evening, and somehow you manage to put up an otherwise happily married front.
When a few of the guys finally get a little bit too drunk, specifically Rooster, you're all too happy when Natasha calls it a night. Because they ship out the next day, Jake drives you back to the hotel where all of the married couples have rented out a room for the night. Apparently it's a tradition or something. You make the drive in silence. You let him check into the room and carry both of your bags up, disappearing into the small bathroom to splash cool water onto your face. It helps to ease some of the tension from this evening. Leaning over the sink, you watch the water swirl down the drain.
Is this crazy? This is crazy, right?
Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands when you step out. He's taken off his hat and suddenly he seems a lot more fragile than he was a few minutes ago. There's a softness to him, something having been previously concealed by the precise styling of his hair and tense pull of his set jaw. Before you can break the silence, he sucks in an uneasy breath.
"Hey, we need to talk about something. Um, you know... in case I..."
In case he doesn't come back.
You swallow, looking down at the ground. After tonight, after he's kissed you, all of this is starting to feel a little bit to real. What the hell happened to pretending? This was all supposed to be pretend. "Jake, please don't do that—"
He stands up from the end of the bed, and you notice the folded paper in his hands. "This is all of my personal information, you know, bank accounts, passwords, phone numbers... Anything you might need if something happens to me." He says it all as if it's so normal, but you can hear the apprehension in the thinness of his voice.
Already, you're shaking your head as he hands you the letter. "Jake, please. I don't want that." Your heart is pounding and all you want to do in the moment is go back in time and never have agreed to do this in the first place. This was insane. What were you thinking? Like you were going to put yourself through this again? 
"(Y/n)—“ Jake tries, interrupting your spiral of thoughts.
"I said NO, Jake," you snap, stepping back from him and the letter. There are tears burning at the backs of your eyes, like you might burst into a hit of hysteria at any moment. "I change my mind. I can't do this..."
Jake's eyes glance from you to the paper in his hand and then back to you, and then he drops his outstretched arm with what sounds like a laugh. "Right. Not like we're fuckin' married or anything." He releases a puff of air from his cheeks and runs his hand through his hair like he's contemplating pulling it out. "Do you know how screwed we are if anyone finds out about this? Do you, (Y/n)??" he asks, his voice rising to a concerning level. "We're done!" 
"Jake, I—"
He tosses the letter onto the bed and sits back down with a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet. When he finally speaks again, his voice had lowered to a more acceptable volume. "It's a bit too late for you to back out now. If the Navy finds out about this— if anyone one finds out about this, I could lose my job. We could both go to jail."
Silence settles over the two of you as Jake sits on the bed, staring at his feet, and you stand there in the middle of the room, willing your heart to stop pounding in your chest. You need to get out of here before your heart implodes. You turn and grab your coat from by the door.
"Where are you going?"  Jake asks, his voice tired and annoyed.
"I need some air," you say, shrugging on your coat and opening the door. He doesn't try to stop you on the way out. 
You regret the decision the second that you walk out the door. Now that the sun is gone, it's freezing outside. Your original plan had been to go for a walk to clear your head but you doubt now you'd make it very far. Walking down the stairs and out into the nearly empty parking lot, you look around, considering whether or not you would survive the trek to a gas station. When you realize you've left your phone back in the room, you decide against it. You aren't dumb enough to walk in the dark alone. Instead you head towards Jake's truck, which is parked out by itself at the end of the lot. To your surprise, you find it's unlocked and the door swings open when you tug on the handle. You climb in and the switch to lock the door behind you. Even the inside of the car is cold but at least it's out of the wind. You hug your knees into your check and tuck your chin into them, curling up in the driver's seat to keep warm.
And then you just sob.
It's the kind of sobbing that starts long and drawn out and then escalates into the rapid breathing that happens when you can't get enough air into your lungs and it feels as though there's an entire golf ball stuck in your throat. You haven't cried this hard since you were a kid—since your first brother died. You didn't cry the second time, didn't allow yourself to feel anything the second time because you knew there wasn't going to be anyone to pull you back together if you did. 
At least being away from all of this had allowed you some time to forget, even if for just a moment, that they were gone without having to be constantly reminded. You had moved to put as much distance between yourself and the Navy as possible. Because that way life wouldn't get the chance to take another person from you in the same way. Looking at the ring on your finger now, that's exactly the opposite of what you had just done. This was just supposed to be until you could get back on your feet, and if it helped Jake out in the process then great. Now that you think about it, it was stupid of you to think that you would be able to make it through this with out catching feelings for him. 
Now you're going to lose him too.
You cry until you almost make yourself sick and then some more. Your sobbing is interrupted every few minutes when you choke on your own air and have to swallow the golf ball that is lodged in your throat so that you can breathe. You're not sure how long you sit there just crying. Surely at least an hour has passed. By the time your sobbing has slowed, your head hurts and your chest aches enough to be sore.
Knock knock knock
You jump at the noise, head shooting up from between the bracket of your knees. It's dark outside, the parking lot just barley lit in a wash of grey by the moon. Even so, you can make out Jake's broad figure in the darkness.
"Open the damn door." His order comes out in a puff of frosty condensation that warms a spot on the window, his voice only partially muffled by the barrier. His shoulders are hunched against the cold, the upturned collar of his coat doing little to protect him from the brutal conditions.
For a while you just stare at him through the window, swallowing back the spit in your throat.
"Open the door," he repeats, knowing better than to think that you can't hear him. If only locking yourself in his car was the solution of all of your problems. Reluctantly, you reach over and click the lock, slowly rolling down the window.
After it stops, you stare at each other through the open car window, separated only by the frame of door that he could now easily reach out and open. His soft brown hair is mushed and in disarray, nose and cheeks tinted pink form the chill. The pleasant green of his eyes is mostly hidden as he squints against the wind.
Finally, you suck in a breathe, your chest shuddering. "I cannot do this," you stress, all of the fear that you've been shoving down now presenting itself in a singular sentence.
Jake sighs, his face softening to reflect a look of sympathy. "Look, I promise you, it's not that bad. You'll come with me to the carrier when I ship out tomorrow, we'll hug each other goodbye, and then you won't even have to see me for a couple of months. It'll be like none of this ever happened. And when I come back... we'll figure it out. Okay?" His voice is soft and understanding, like he's talking to a child.
You stare at the dashboard, your stomach still churning anxiously. "That's not what I'm... It's not you, Jake." Quite the opposite. "I lost my brothers to the Navy. Both of them. And I don't think I can take losing anyone else."
Immediately Jake's face falls as he puts everything into place. Your initial distaste for him, your furious outburst at Hard Deck, your reluctance to have have anything to do with the Navy... "I—God, I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I had no idea."
You shrug, calming down now that you've finally let go over everything that you've been holding in. "I asked Natasha not to tell you. I just thought that I could get over it so what was the point in even telling you?"
The wind blowing into through the open window is bone chilling and so you can only imagine how cold Jake is standing outside the car. For a while there's only the sound of his quiet breathing.
"Nothing's going to happen to me, (Y/n)," he says into the darkness.
"How can you be so sure?"
Hands shoved into his pockets, body braced against the wind, he shrugs. "I'm not. But if I didn't tell myself that every morning, I'd never get out of bed."
Sighing, you pull the handle on the inside of the door. "C'mon, it's fucking cold out there."
Jake huffs as if to say, you're telling me, and grabs the handle to pull open the door. Only instead of climbing in, he steps further inside the door and grabs your head in his cold hands so that your faces are mere inches apart. "I mean it, kid. I'm not going to leave you, alright? You just gotta trust me."
Looking into his eyes, you know he means it. For the second time since you've known Jake, you really see him. Standing before you is the same man that you saw in both of your brothers. Granted, they were much younger than he is now, but you get it. You'd been trying to see him as anyone else other than the brothers you lost, praying that it would hurt less, but you can't make someone into something they're not. 
"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you, Jake."
You're awake hours earlier than what you're used to in the morning, but that's only because you had glanced at the alarm clock at half past three and realized that you only had few hours left with Jake. The both of you had returned to the hotel room and changed in comfortable silence, slipping into the single bed together without a word. Jake had reached over and pulled you into him without so much as a second thought. Now his body is draped heavily on top of yours, his nose tucked into your hair as your fingers trace along the bare skin of his exposed back. 
You switch between staring at the ceiling and watching the numbers change on the alarm clock, trying to think about anything other than the fact that Jake would wake up in about an hour, you'd drop him off at the carrier at six, and that would be it. You'd only just gotten him and now you were going to have to let him go.
When Jake's alarm does go off, you're more emotional than you thought you would be, but Jake seems to be fine, dutifully putting on his uniform and carefully packing all of his bags, so you try to put on a brave face. You move slowly, dragging out the process of getting dressed as long as possible just so that there's no excuse to leave for the dock any sooner than you have too. After you're done getting ready, you watch him shave once and then again for good measure before he ultimately decides that you've both wasted enough time putting off the inevitable.
The drive there is silent as well and would have been unbearable had Jake not reached over the consol to reassuringly squeeze your hand. He doesn't let go of it until you pull into the crowded port. Between people trying to get their things on board and a bunch of teary goodbyes, it's beyond you how you manage to find the Dagger Squad in the midst of the chaos. Fanboy and Payback are saying goodbye to their families while Rooster and Natasha chatter excitedly with an older man also dressed in naval attire, the name plate on his uniform identify him as 'Maverick'. It's all so overwhelming that only when Jake squeezes your hand again do you realize that it's time for you to say goodbye.
Reluctantly, you turn towards him, interlocked hands swinging between the two of you. He does his best to smile, and to his credit, it's not entirely fake. "Well," he sighs. "This it it."
"For now," you add, returning his soft smile as you look up at him.
"For now," Jake agrees, his smile brightening now that you seem to be okay also. He pauses, just staring down at you for a moment before he adds, "Are you going to let me kiss you?"
You smile, answering him this time without hesitation. "Only if you keep your promise."
Jake's large hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling your chin in his palm as he leans down to you. "I promise," he murmurs before pressing his mouth to yours, perhaps even more tender than he did the first time at Hard Deck. Only this time you reciprocate it, chasing his mouth as you lift up on your toes and run your fingers through the back of his hair. Groaning, Jake sighs into the kiss. It's dizzying and you don't know how it's possible to put all of the passion that you've been holding back into one kiss, but somehow you do. His lips are soft and you have to shove down the urge to grip his hair and demand him for more, because it by some miracle occurs to you that you're on a ship in front of hundreds people. 
Jake's the one to pull away, his eyes shining and pink lips slightly more swollen than they were a minute ago. You can't help but laugh, wiping away some of your lipgloss from his mouth with your thumb. "Goodbye, Jake."
"Goodbye, (Y/n). And don't forget, I'll see you soon."
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chaotickimchi · 5 months ago
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Killing Your Darlings - A guide on writing death
(Inspired by some writing tips I saw on pinterest. I decided to try my hand at a “writing death” guide. Small disclaimer, these are suggestions or things to consider, there is no rule book on writing death and your story/characters will ultimately play a role in the shape and shades you colour in your scenes with.)
SHOW DON’T TELL?
How does your character discover the death? Is it really necessary to show the body to the audience? 
Consider this, which will have more impact on your character, watching someone die or getting a phone call and hearing the news from afar? Depending on your story, it could be more gutwrenching if your character isn’t there to say their final goodbye. Sometimes not showing the body can be more devastating. Don’t underestimate your readers empathy and imagination, if your characters have a very strong bond, severing that tie from a distance can be incredibly impactful. Just because your character dies, doesn’t mean you have to show the body. If that’s the case for you, then you don’t have to worry about describing the “death scene” at all. 
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Writing a murder mystery or a battle? Well, I suppose your character will see a lot of shit, time to describe the Dead Darling. 
Corpse. Cadaver. Body. Remains. Carcass. The Deceased. 
Several words refer to a dead body and they aren’t all created equally! You wouldn’t call your character’s dear old granny a “carcass” for example, and how many of us use the term “cadaver” to describe human remains in a casual setting? Consider the context, who is speaking, what is their relation to the Dead Darling? The use of a particular noun can change the weight and mood of the scene, there’s a reason your local funeral director doesn’t go around saying “CARCASS” to grieving widows/widowers, it sounds harsh and nasty. Maybe your character is in denial and doesn’t even describe the Dead Darling as “dead”, instead they view them as “like a doll” or “impossibly still” or looking like they’re asleep. 
Context matters, so consider the relationship between the Dead Darling and the character and also the situation they are in. Take the following as a rough example; 
Detective Mc Dude has been called to a scene, he’s given a rough description of the victim over the radio as he drives to the scene. He arrives and to his horror, he recognises the body as that of his secret lover. His colleague joins him and fills him in as Detective Mc Dude tries to gather himself.  “Detective, the remains were found this morning by a jogger. We’ve yet to make an I.D …” Detective Mc Dude’s mind is reeling as he wrestles against his inner turmoil and the need to maintain his composure and act professionally. Later, he goes to the coroner to discuss the autopsy results. The coroner describes the injuries they have discovered on the corpse. Detective Mc Dude begins to build his case. 
While the example lacks a lot of detail and flourish, I do hope it helps illustrate how the weight shifts around with the use of different nouns throughout the example. The coroner in this example feels no attachment to the Dead Darling, this is their job, they see a corpse and try to gather evidence. Detective Mc Dude recognises her body, whereas his colleague sees the remains. Do you see the difference there? Mc Dude sees the person, her body, his colleague doesn’t know who she is or what her story is, he has less connection to her and he sees the remains, it feels more distant and impersonal compared to Mc Dude. 
This might be a bit of a head scratcher, the differences are very subtle but can become really pronounced when weilded well in a scene. My advice is to pay attention to discussions of death in real life or books/tv/films etc. Read your paragraphs out loud and see how they feel, sometimes you can intuit what fits and what doesn’t. You may notice things that surprise you, for example, news readers often say “a body has been found” or “the remains of a man/woman were found”, whereas you and your friends/family are more likely to describe a deceased loved one with “his or her body”. 
A detail as small as using personal pronouns can carry significant weight, likewise, the type of language used can convey a lot of emotion. His/her body can be used to create a sense of closeness or sympathy, corpse can suggest a clinical or distant view, carcass or remains could indicate a hint of barbarism or malice. That's not to say that “corpse” can’t be used sympathetically or that “body” can’t be used to convey malice, it’s worth experimenting with which types of nouns you want to use. 
YOU LOOK LIKE DEATH WARMED UP- OH WAIT
Death comes in many shapes, sizes, colours, smells, and forms. A character sitting at someones sickbed watching them fade away will have a completely different vibe from Detective Mc Dude discovering a stomach-churning murder scene. Unless the dead body randomly falls out of the sky, chances are your character might notice some context clues or details in the environment before we get to the body. This could be anything from the beeps of machines and the sterile hospital smell, or maybe there’s a blood trail on the floor and the sweet stench of death clings to the air. It’s rather likely you’ll set up a scene before you zoom in on the finer details of the body, what kind of things would catch your character's attention? 
Now your character has come across a body… What do they see? The glassy dead-eyed stare, mouth twisted in a painful grimmace, the massive gaping chest hole where the facehugger popped out- Wow, that escalated quickly… 
Think for a second, what might your character notice first; look of terror in the victims eyes or THE MASSIVE FUCKING WOUND IN HIS CHEST… I know, the blue lips and glassy eyes might feel like a great place to start, but I’m willing to bet a massive pool of blood would catch your character's attention first, they’d probably have to get closer to see the look of terror in their eyes! Consider the larger details if your character is further away and hone in on the finer details if/when they are closer.
Not all deaths are quite so … gruesome. Maybe someone died peacefully, closed their eyes, smiled, and slipped away in a dream. Describing the “look of death” doesn’t have to be all that far removed from how you write regular emotions and expressions, except in death these expressions get locked in or frozen in time. A dead body isn’t all that different from a living one when you think about it, so why would you reinvent the descriptive wheel? A living or a dead body could “wear a painful grimace,” let your character read whatever expressions they can uncover when they find the Dead Darling. 
Smells, sounds and other sensations. You don’t have to go ham with descriptions, sometimes less is more, it really is down to you, but another thing you might want to consider are the smells, and sounds going on around them. Maybe your character disassociates a little and you forgo the visual stimuli entirely and need to express death using other senses, maybe it happens in a very dark room, or maybe you just want to draw in other descriptive elements into your death scene. 
Sounds: Siren blaring and alarms bleeping, the faintest little ‘huff’ as they draw their final breath, the ominous death-rattle cough, piercing shrieks suddenly cut short, a gutwrenching crunch-squelch, the click of a switch and the poignant silence of the life support machine ceasing. 
Smells: bleach/disinfectant, latex gloves, blood/gore, rot and decay, sickly-sweet or vomit-inducing, smog/smoke and fire, the smell of the Dead Darlings perfume, the environment (e.g. outside perhaps the smell of death is swept away by the powerful salty-sea spray or masked by the stink of the sewer the body was dumped in…)
CONCLUSIONS
There’s still a lot to explore, but I hope this has given you some food for thought when considering death in your stories. There’s more to explore, such as what happens after death (funerals, burials, anniversaries), writing scenes where your character murders/is murdered, the various ways characters can die… Faking character deaths … like there is a WHOLE LOT but this just covers a few things I find helpful to consider or at least think about when I read/write stories or generally listen to how language works around me. 
Good luck killing you Darlings ;)
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luveline · 1 year ago
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ARE YOU TAKING REQUESTS FOR HOTCH????? I-OH MY please write super fluffy domestic vibes with hotch? Just the reader being super tired late at night waiting for him and still taking care of him when he gets home? Like taking his coat and shoes off and offering him a hot bath?
Maybe he just can't help but melt and get all soft around her?
You can ignore this if you wish to! Dw! Love your writing<3
thank you for your request!! hotch x tired fem!reader
Your head feels cloudy and heavy as a bowling ball when you hear the apartment door creak open. You lift your head, your neck protesting its soreness, and wipe the little line of dribble from your chin as Aaron turns the gentle corner into the lounge. 
"You're still up," he says. 
"Can't let my man come home to nothing," you say, or try to say, rubbing your eyes as you stand on wobbly footing. 
He swoops in for a hug. You love this part of being with him. You'd thought it was the drunkenness of a new relationship at first, but it never went away. When it's you and him alone, Aaron adores you unapologetically. 
"You're so tired," he says, his voice tipping gently into teasing. 
"I'm not," you argue. 
He doesn't believe you, clearly, a light behind his eyes that says, Yeah, right. You don't need him to believe you to take care of him, unfortunately for him. You lean back in the circle of his arms and give his neck a light, loving scratch, fingertips curving down his throat to the snug collar of his t-shirt. You work your way into his perfectly knotted tie and ease it loose. 
His hand does some unworking all its own, kneading into the rigid line of your aching back with care. "You're tense," he says. 
"I'm a bit sore," you admit. 
"Sleeping sitting up does that to you." Profiler. 
"Stop, stop cheating," you say, pulling the tie from his neck and laying it over your shoulder. "I hate this button. I don't know how you get it undone without me, it's always snug." 
"Good thing you're here to do it for me," he says. Trust him to guard his secrets. 
You pop his first button, then his second, and rub the red indent the starched collar has pressed into his neck with over-exaggerated concern. 
"You might be better at pretending than I am, but I can still tell when you're tired, Hotchner." 
He tightens his hold around your waist. "What did we say about Hotchner?" he asks, his voice rough and warm at once. He sounds as though he could tip into salaciousness if you only did it first. 
"I don't remember," you say. 
"I'm sure you don't." 
He grabs your cheek. Grab is too cruel a word, but cup is too soft. He takes your face into his hand, the breadth of his palm drowning your face, warm and solid and breathtakingly tender as he turns your face and leans in. He kisses the corner of your mouth.
Your breath catches as he kisses lower. His lips trail to your jaw, just under it, the skin beneath your ear. 
"I made you dinner," you say, pulling him back carefully, your hand in his hair. He doesn't fight it. "I know you're hungry." 
"I'm trying to seduce you," he says, clear entertainment in his tone. You love this Aaron most of all, much better than his dominant work personality, or his quieter seductions. Playful, loving Aaron is his sweetest mode. 
"I know, and I'm trying to make sure you don't keel over and die before you reach fifty." 
"That won't happen. You're keeping me young." 
"Oh, really?" You squeeze his bicep. "How am I doing that?" 
"I'd tell you, but I don't think you're in the mood," he says, still playful. 
He really does sound younger when he's with you. You've heard him sometimes down the phone giving orders or correcting his colleagues, and it's different to this. He lives for his job, but he's happier when he's with you. It's not something you take lightly. 
"I could be in the mood," you say. 
He chuckles and kisses your cheek. "Not tonight. You're falling asleep on your feet, and I'm not far behind you." 
"You'll eat dinner though, won't you?" 
"If you eat with me." 
Aaron absolutely won't let you take his shoes off, which is a disappointment but unsurprising. He does, however, allow you to flit around him at the kitchen table, warming his plate and pouring him a small glass of scotch. By some miracle he eats all of it, and only drinks a sip of the scotch by another. He trades his short glass for a bottle of water, and his dark suit for freshly washed pyjamas, trailing after you in the dimly lit hallway to your shared bedroom with his fingers woven in yours obligingly. 
You wonder if he'd let you brush his teeth for him. Weirdly, you know if you asked him to, he'd brush your teeth for you. You can imagine it, your chin pinched in one hand as he looks down at you, his other guiding gentle circles. You file the daydream away for another night and get through this one easily enough, you and Aaron hip to hip, his elbow on your shoulder.
Aaron lifts his hand, drawing a circle around your ear absentmindedly. After what seems to be an internal debate, he takes your ear lobe between his index and middle fingertips and gives it a soft tug. 
You glare at him, toothbrush between your lips, toothpaste foaming at the corners of your mouth. His returning grin makes you feel like the prettiest girl on Earth. 
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kanonavi · 3 months ago
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Spoilers for Simulanka Day 3
There's a conversation that I've had with friends from time to time about the fact that the world of Teyvat is, at its core, incredibly kind. Shockingly so, even for most fictional stories that aren't directed towards children. Even though the traveler has faced many antagonists on their journey, the people around them have always banded together to overcome those challenges. Even when people are hurt it's very rare for anyone to die, and many of the antagonists in question aren't pure evil and have their own reasons for taking the actions they take. They may not always operate on the same morality as the traveler or the player, and they might not be "good people", but they still believe that what they have to do is right, or at the very least necessary.
To put it more simply, Genshin is filled with characters that are made to be liked. Not every player will like every character, but very few of them are actively trying to work against you, and even when they do there's still something there to like. Except for like, Il Dottore, but he's likable for how unlikable he is (I have to say that or my Dottore enjoying friend will be sad lmao).
I got to thinking about this when playing the last part of Simulanka because it was a reminder of how, despite the kindness that they've been shown by Teyvat for the past three and a half years, the traveler's morality is still shockingly black and white in many situations.
We see this the most in how they interact with the Fatui. The Fatui, particularly the Harbingers, have cause a lot of damage in the past, but a lot of the grunts are just ordinary people following orders. the commission line in Mondstadt with Viktor, Golden Apple Archipelago 2 and The Chasm come to mind for times when we've interacted with Fatui grunts in a way that really humanizes them and shows that a lot of them really are just people doing a job. Some of them have just been surveyors or low-level guards, but the traveler and Paimon treat them like they're cartoon villains until proven otherwise (and sometimes even after proven otherwise).
The way that they acted towards Simulanka Durin before the party gave him their blessings also seemed to reflect this, especially in comparison to the other party members. Wanderer was obviously the most sympathetic to Durin, since his memories were like looking into a mirror for him, but Nilou, Navia, and Kirara all stepped forward to give Durin their support while the traveler was still showing doubts. They were thinking about how the residents of Simulanka might not forgive Durin, or how his form was too big and scary to coexist with everyone, which was an incredibly unsympathetic outlook even though they were ultimately able to change Durin's form.
It honestly reminds me a lot of how the traveler treated Scaramouche/Wanderer in Inversion of Genesis, like he was a person to be kept the company of only out of necessity as a means to keep him under control, even after Nahida said that she trusted him. Even though something did go wrong at the time, it still showed that the traveler's suspicion and distrust of Scaramouche was strong enough to outweigh their trust of Nahida, despite Nahida having proved herself many times to be wise and worthy of trust in the past. That mistrust and even disdain for him even carried over into when he reappeared with no memories, as the traveler was forcefully adamant that he needed to reclaim his memories and atone, to the point that it seemed like they were being a little bit mean about it.
It's arguable that Scaramouche deserved that treatment, since he was kind of a little shithead who caused a lot of harm in the past, but the traveler was also witness to how deeply he was hurt and manipulated in the past, and therefore would have some kind of understanding of why he turned out the way that he did.
Despite the traveler's usual helpfulness in Simulanka, Nilou, Navia, and Kirara all feel like contrasts to them. Nilou's whimsical outlook and positive mindset allowed her to grasp the magic of creation and even gave her the initiative to try and change Durin's form with magic in the first place. Navia is used to taking care of "the little guy", as it were, through the Spina, and was therefore willing to listen and empathize with the toy people who didn't want to undo the power of prophecy. (With those guys also being called "conservatives" or a "conservative radical" in English, that doesn't really have a good connotation depending on your political leaning, but Navia listened to them anyway). And with Kirara, while I haven't played her little sidequest yet, the description of her outfit described how the little cat burglar stole and returned the emotions of the cats that they hadn't been given when they were created, casting her in the role of someone who can understand the balance that anger, sadness, and pain bring to happiness.
The three of them, as well as the Wanderer, all carry Teyvat's fundamental kindness with them, and it was then coaxed out of the traveler only when all of them had already stepped forward.
It made me wonder if this is some kind of lesson that the traveler has to learn before reuniting with their sibling, that they need to be more willing to put their trust in people, or at least be more understanding of others. While the abyss twin hasn't divulged too much of what they've learned yet, they've made it clear that there are lessons that the traveler needs to learn about the world before they reunite. While that likely has a lot to do with various truths about Celestia and the sky being fake and all that, perhaps they're hoping for their sibling to learn that at least in Teyvat, sometimes people who cause harm to others are simply trying (or have tried and failed and lost hope) to find a path towards co-existing with others.
Since the abyss twin is supposedly born of Teyvat as well, perhaps they've already understood that part of this world from the very beginning and are waiting for their sibling to catch up.
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thebearer · 1 year ago
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i feel like donna would be like “that’s who you’re gonna end up with? someone who posts on instagram, and you’re a michelin chef?” and carmen just barks back
“so you do all the work… and she takes a picture and posts it? wow, so you’re gonna make all the money, do all the work, and she’s just gonna spend it, carmy? i’m sorry i just… I don’t get it.” donna slurs, the table eerily quiet. “you know, claire she’s-she’s got a real job. she’s a doctor and she’d make money. not just lean on you.”
“hey, mom, let’s not do this.” sugar is incredibly uncomfortable. carmen’s got that look in his eyes that he might kill donna, you look like you want to crawl under the table and die, and everyone else looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.
“it’s a really hard job, d. harder than it looks, and she’s real good at it. the best. knows the algorithms and how to do everything, and-“ richie is trying too. he’s gotten used to helping sugar out, being her right hand man.
“-taking a picture?” donna scoffs, wine splashing over the lip of her glass, her nasally laugh mocking you from down the table. “you’re telling me she’s,” a long, red manicured nail is pointed in your direction. “making mortgage payments on that new, big house by taking a photo? please, you can’t make that much-”
carmen shoves the table, plates and silverware clanging furiously at the movement. “alright, sugar, I tried. i fuckin’ tried, and-and I told you if she started this shit I was done.” carmen sneers. “and she makes more than me, sometimes, alright? when we were gettin’ started, her ‘pictures’ kept our lights on. she works which is more than you can say, ma. when’s the last time you had a listing, huh?“
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itsmarsss · 6 months ago
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Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 4 - Immediate Murder Professionals
How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)
Blitzø just might be stupid.
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9
Word Count: 2,340
Warnings: eh, mentions of sex only i think. also stolas is newly separated so he's trying this new thing called flirting. yes i'm a firm believer that stolas is naturally so weirdly flirty he could make a succubus flustered no questions asked.
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“...and then I yelled ‘sorry I fucked your husband’ and just kinda… left.” 
Everyone was gathered around the big table in the meeting room at I.M.P., per Blitzø’s request. Well, he didn’t request it, per se- it was something more along the lines of yelling “Anyone who’s not a whiny bitch follow me, I got something to show you” and everyone just sort of complying. 
He had been on and on in excruciating detail about how he’d up and stolen whatever it was he wanted to show you. He had yet to show you a thing.
“Oh wow. You are an idiot,” you state.
“And why is that, witch bitch?”
“You stole from a Goetia prince?”
“Yeah I did. And I looked sexy doing it.”
“What did you even wanna steal so bad?” Millie asks.
“Oh-ho-ho. You’re not even fuckin’ ready. None of you are even fucking ready.” He slams a big, heavy book on the desk. You inspect it, trying to figure out why he would go out of his way, in a borderline suicidal quest, to steal a book. Your eyes widen when you realize you know exactly what it is. 
“You stole from STOLAS?” He had to be fucking- wait. “Wait, you fucked Stolas?” 
“What how’d you know it was him?”
“It’s- it’s his Grimoire. That’s what this is isn’t it?”
“Yup. And with this,” he explains to the others, since apparently you already knew of it, “we’ll be able to go up to the living world and kill any human we’re paid to kill.”
“That- that’s- Blitzø this is insane. And I don’t mean good insane. I mean batshit crazy insane.”
“How do you even know what this is?”
“I- I used to see him a lot. You know. Ozzie stuff. They’re always in meetings. I didn’t- I’m really having trouble believing he acted like that-”
“What, like a needy bitch in heat?” Blitzø cuts you off.
You feel yourself get flustered at the implication, not managing to finish whatever you had been about to say. 
“Oh my fucking Satan, Blitz,” Loona lets out a groan, frustrated at what she was hearing, which is fair. It’s enough to prompt her to leave the room entirely, assumingly to her seat at the front desk. 
“Sir, you need to give this back.” Moxxie pushes the book across the table back to him.
“What? After everything I had to go through to get it? No way!”
“No, Mox is right. Stolas is nice, but he’s still, like, one of the most powerful demons down here, dude. And this is- this is next level doing him wrong. You didn’t just steal from him, you played with his feelings too. That’s so much worse.”
“Feelings? Come on! So we’re all ganging up on Blitzo now, are we?” You all cringed a bit whenever he used his own given name. It felt weird and just totally… wrong, considering how adamant he always was about correcting everyone else when it came to it, but, to be fair, he didn’t really seem to notice when he did it. He just happened to absentmindedly call himself that sometimes when he was feeling criticized, which… well, you weren’t sure if you wanted to unpack whatever that meant. He keeps on. “I’m sorry I worry about us having jobs and money to pay rent and food to feed ourselves!”
“Blitz that’s not-” Millie starts, but gets cut off by Loona, who walks back into the room. “Guys, there’s an… owl… guy… thing… looking for Blitz out there.”
Oh, shit.
“We’re gonna die,” Moxxie mutters under his breath, starting to chant it over and over again, eyes almost popping out of his head. Millie puts her arms around his shoulders and brings his head to her lap to try and calm him down, sending a death glare- much like yourself- towards Blitzø, who now looked like a deer in headlights, caught red-handed, apparently not expecting to be found that soon. 
“Uuuhhh, tell him I’m not here!”
“Already did, he said some weird shit about being able to smell you or whatever the fuck that was about. That guy’s a fucking freak.” Huh. Maybe Blitzø wasn’t lying.
“Uhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck, gotta think, gotta think,” Blitzø begins pacing in circles around the room.
“Well? What the fuck did you expect?”
“I didn’t think that far ahead, alright? Sue me.”
“Oh really? I could have sworn you had everything figured out!” 
His head shoots up and he points at you, completely ignoring your sarcasm. “You go talk to him!” 
“Me? This is your problem!”
“Our problem! You work here don’t you?”
“Blitz I swear to Satan.”
“Pleeeaaaase?” He tries making puppy eyes at you. It’s kind of bizarre, but not entirely useless. “You said you know him, he’ll probably be nicer to you. Maybe you can soften the blow. Ha. Blow.”
“If it doesn’t work I’m ratting you out and I’m not gonna feel bad about it.”
“Thank you thank you thank you, I’ll owe you one, now go!”
You let out a groan, making sure he hears it. You could not believe you were about to do this. Sure, let’s confront pissed-off demon royalty about something of theirs that you definitely have in your possession just in the next room. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that. “Can you tell him to go to your dad’s office, Loons?”
“Yeah whatever.”
You make your way out of the meeting room and into Blitzø’s office, which is… a sight to behold. There were horse drawings scattered everywhere around the room, figurines of Millie, Moxxie, and yourself on top of his desk (you didn’t even want to know), guns you knew definitely didn’t have their safety locks on just laying on various different surfaces. Yeah, it was all very on-brand. 
You sit down on his chair, getting barely a few seconds to prepare yourself for your talk with Stolas before he walks into the room.
Well, no, he doesn’t exactly walk in. He leans against the door frame, pulling a leg up and running a hand up it as he starts speaking, yet to take a look into the room. “For someone so remarkably sexy you are so hard to find, Bli- oh my!” He’s visibly startled when he finally makew eye contact with you, evidently having expected Blitz�� to be the one in your place. Almost tripping over himself, he tries to pull himself together, fixing his posture and wiping non-existent dust off of his clothes as if to pretend he hadn’t just made a fool of himself. Stolas had always kept his composure around you whenever he went over to meet with Ozzie, so this behavior… it was definitely new. 
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you were-”
You decide to save him the embarrassment. Or, well,  further embarrassment. “Your Highness! Hi.”
“Y/n.” He remembers your name. What, of course he remembers your name, dumbass! That’s completely normal. “You… Do you not work for Asmodeus anymore?”
“Not really. I’d been working there a long time. Wanted to try something new.”
“So you chose to work… here?” He motions around, and you couldn’t blame him. It didn’t look like the best place in Hell. And you supposed it did seem like an odd change in occupation. 
“We’re a work in progress.”
“Well, do you and Asmodeus still keep in touch? I recall you were quite good friends.”
“Yes! We still are. We still are. How have you been, uh, doing, your highness?” You ask, carefully. 
“Please, there is still no need to call me that.” Your interactions always went like this- you called him by his title, he insisted you call him by his name, and you always refused to. Strangely enough, you called him by his name when referring to him in conversation with Ozzie. 
But you don’t feel the need for all of that now. “Right, I’m sorry. Stolas.” 
“Well, I haven’t been doing quite so great, actually. I’m sure you’re aware why.”
You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them up again and forcing yourself to make eye contact with him, trying to stay collected. Play it cool. “I… might have an idea, yes.”
“You see, you have worked with Asmodeus for a long time. You’ve been around myself plenty, haven’t you, darling?”
Had he ever called you darling before? You’re positive he’s never, ever done that. 
Chill, dumbass! It’s just a fancy people thing. No big deal. “Yes.”
“Yes, so you know how crucial my Grimoire is for my purpose in the Ars Goetia, don’t you?” He speaks to you in an almost condescending manner. You almost feel insulted. Did his voice always sound like that?
“Yes.”
“Perfect. So I suppose you understand why I would be very upset when I came to find out your friend, Blitzy, stole such a sacred artifact from me.”
“I understand.”
“My Grimoire contains spells that are meant for mine and, in the future, my daughter’s use only, and it would simply be a scandal if it fell into the hands of itty bitty imps such as yourselves.” Okay, he was definitely being condescending now. Why was it kind of hot? It was definitely hot. 
What the fuck.
“Uhhhhh-”
“It makes things so much worse that he simply hurt my feelings! After a night of such passionate fornication, you could only imagine my surprise when I came to find out the book had been missing! Had I not known better I would have sworn it had been deceiving work of someone like yourself.”
“Like myself?”
“You are a succubus, aren’t you, dear?” He tilts his head to the side as if what he meant had been obvious. And it probably had- you’d just read too much into it. Was what Blitzø had told you about what happened getting to your head or something?
“Ooookay. Uh. I’m really- I’m really sorry about… all of that. Uh. Wow. Uh that really is a lot huh? I’m just gonna… I’m just gonna go call Blitz now and you guys can talk it out maybe. That fine for you? Fantastic. Good talk, Stolas!”
You slip past him and out of the office, catching your breath before going back into the meeting room to call Blitzø and let him handle the situation. What the actual fuck was that?
[. . .]
“So?” Millie questions Blitzø as he enters the meeting room again after a good half hour. Everyone follows, looking at him expectantly. 
He pauses, for dramatic effect. “Guess who just founded the first human-killing business in Hell?”
“What?” You ask, incredulous.
“I’m sorry sir are you saying the Prince is letting us use his spell book?”
“You heard it, Mox.”
“H-how?”
“Well I’m gonna have to dick him down every full moon but I guess that’s a good trade.”
The room goes silent. 
Moxie breaks the silence first. “Uhh, what?”
“What?”
“What’s that about the full moon?”
“Oh well. Well, apparently I’m a fantastic fucking lay, just unforgettable. So all I gotta do to have the book is give it back to him every full moon and then fuck him into oblivion and we’re good to go.”
“And you’re sure you’re fine with that?” You ask him, carefully. 
“Well yeah? It’s fucking great! We get the book AND I get to fuck a Prince into submission every once in a while? Couldn’t be better.”
You’re not that sure about it, but what was the point in arguing with him? You shrug. “If you say so.”
“And he’s just… fine with that?” Moxxie questions, not buying it.
“What, you think I’d lie?”
“Yeah,” everyone replies, without hesitation.
“Well I’m not!”
“Well shit. Your dick must be good.” Well, that wasn’t supposed to come out.
He grins. “Ya wanna find out?”
You stare at him, unamused, for a second, locking eyes with Moxxie soon after. 
“You deserved that,” Moxxie points out.
“Yeah I regretted it as soon I said it.”
“You really should have seen it coming,” Blitzø himself adds.He grabs the Grimoire, bringing everyone’s attention to it. “So. Aren’t y’all curious? I know I wanna know what the human realm is like.”
“It’s really not that different from here,” you tell him.
“Oh yeah, I forget you’ve been there before. What do you guys even do there?”
“Uuuhhh.”
“They fuck people to death, Mills, ain’t that cool?”
“Oh shut up you know that hardly ever happens anymore.”
“But’cha could.”
You sigh, knowing he just wanted to hear that he was right. You give him a little smile. “But I could.” 
“Hell yeah!” It was always weirdly nice that he thought that part of what you were was cool rather than being disgusted by it.  “Should we go take a look?”
“How’d ya even work this thing?” Millie asks, examining the book in Blitzø’s hands.
“Fuck if I know.”
“You didn’t ask him?” Loona asks.
“Not really.”
“I’m not even-” she rolls her eyes. “Gimme that” Snatching the book from him and going through the pages for a bit, she stops in a particular one, attempting a few times to read some words from it. Fair enough, a portal leading… somewhere… appears. You’d have to put a pin on that for later and ask her how she knew what to do, but right now everyone was too excited.
“Let’s go fuck some humans to death!” Blitzø exclaims.
“No.” You say sternly.
“Let’s go fuck some humans?” He tries again.
“Sir! No!” Moxxie yells, disgusted.
“Let’s go kill some humans!”
“Hell yeah!” Millie finally agrees,
“Yeah! Wait why am I even listening to you guys, I’m the boss here!” 
“Sure thing Blitz.” You assure him, getting your foot through the portal. “You coming?”
Blitzø turns around. “Looney? You’re not killing anyone there. Got it? It’s too dangerous.”
“But that’s no fun!”
“Looney.”
“Fine.”
“Let’s go kill some humans then!” He shoves you into the portal, jumping through right after you. Jackass.
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A/N: i did a lot of things different than i said id do lmao and i toned down the flirting from stolas to leave it for a different chapter hope this is fun it aint gonna be fun for v long luv yall
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persevereforahappyending · 17 days ago
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A Beacon in the Dark |7|
Pairing: Joey x Reader
Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.
Warnings: Death, Murder, Fighting, Blood, Shooting, Stabbing
Word Count: 4.7k+
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
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Your eyes were closed as your head was leaned back against the headrest. You had turned the car off as you waited for Joey to be ready. She had given you the location of an apartment complex. She said the mom of one of Caleb’s friends agreed to let them stay the night, that the woman was happy Joey had found a job and was actually working. You were well aware of who’s apartment you were at though, it said enough that Joey would rather leave Caleb with a woman who barely seemed to like her, than with his own father. As much as you wanted to, you wouldn’t press her about it, it was none of your business anyway.
You opened your eyes, turning your head to the right when you heard the passenger door open. You watched Joey hop into the Jeep and instantly begin ringing her hands together. “You don’t have to do this,” you said softly, you should definitely have backup when going siren hunting, but you never wanted Joey to feel like she was obligated to join you.
“It’s fine,” she said. “This is just the first time it’s effected our time together,” she whispered, looking up at the apartment complex. “I don’t want him to think I’m falling back into old habits.”
You nodded. “I can make sure you get back here before school; you can still walk him.”
She shook her head, finally turning to face you for the first time since she got in the car. “No, Mrs. Johnson is going to drop him off when she takes her son. I just need to be there to pick him up.”
“Of course.”
Joey gave you genuine smile and you finally turned the key and pulled away. You still had to run over some things with Grace, make sure Joey knew what she’d be up against, and get to the boat before you could actually face the sirens. You began the drive to Grace’s; it was going by much quicker given how late it was and the lack of traffic. You couldn’t help but admire the scenery as you passed by, the half-moon illuminating the woods perfectly.
“So,” Joey said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Sirens?” You nodded. “They’re like mermaids, right?”
You bobbed your head back and forth. “Sort of,” you said slowly. “They both live in the ocean, they’re both half human half fish, I guess is the best way to describe them. Mermaids are a little more easy going though, they like to keep to themselves and not interact with us surface dwellers,” you chuckled at your own joke. “But sirens, they’re the exact opposite, they pretend to be shy, luring you in with their song only to drag you under.”
“What’s their goal, drowning people?” You turned to her, giving her a questioning look. “I know I don’t have as much experience as you with all this,” she gestured with her hand. “But me and the crew I worked with were setup by a vampire because we had each betrayed her father in some way. Then those succubi, though they seemed to enjoy the killing.” You nodded; they really did seem to take pleasure in it. “They did that to feed, to sustain themselves and survive. So, what’s the goal of a siren? Why do they do what they do?”
You couldn’t help but smirk, she really was picking things up quick. There were times where a monster did just mindlessly kill people, or do it for fun, but most of them time there was a reason for it. Whether the reason was logical was up for debate, sometimes the monster just did it to survive, other times it was a ritual, a rite of passage, or some sort of game. That’s how it was for Grace, based on the way she talked about it, which was rarely, it didn’t seem like the Le Domas family enjoyed the killing, but they had to do it, if they didn’t then they would all die. Of course, they made a deal with a demon so they could become rich, so it was really all their fault to begin with, but that was beside the point.
“Sirens are very territorial,” you said. “They don’t like humans coming into their waters. They also tend to feed on or use them for mating.”
“You’re joking?” You glanced at Joey to see her looking at you, as if she was expecting you to say you were joking and laugh it off. You just shook your head and watched as Joey’s face morphed into one of horror. “If they hate humans, why mate with them?”
“So, they can keep their population growing. There are no male sirens, which is why in all the stories they’re luring men to their deaths. They use men to procreate.” You didn’t realize you were at the mansion until you were turning down Grace’s driveway. “Then they kill them. They only leave them alive long enough to get what they want.”
You parked and ran around the side of the car to open Joeys door for her. You offered her a smile, but she just rolled her eyes, though you were pretty sure it was more of a playful eye roll than an annoyed one, you considered that progress. You led her to the front door and opened it with a small bow. She just pushed past you and began making the now familiar way towards Grace’s office. She could ignore you and deny it all she wanted but you didn’t miss the way Joey’s lips twitched slightly up.
“So, what are the odds they try and kill us?” Joey asked as you pushed open the door to Grace’s office.
“High,” Grace answered before you could even open your mouth. “Very high.”
You rested a hand on Joey’s shoulder as she came to a stop directly in front of you. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” you whispered.
She glanced at you. You could see the way her eyes darted around, searching for any reason not to believe you. You wouldn’t give her a reason though, you didn’t care how dangerous sirens were you would make sure Joey made it back home, even if she was the only one to do so, you refused to let her son grow up without her.
When you looked back up at Grace she was giving you a knowing look. You shifted your eyes to the rest of the room. Grace could think whatever she wanted; you didn’t care if she assumed you were protective due to your developing feelings. Grace was only partially right in that regard anyway, you might not have ever met Caleb, but you knew he deserved to not have his mom around, he deserved to get to know her.
“We need to make this quick,” Grace said, moving through her office. “You need to get there and out on the water as soon as possible.”
You glanced around the room while Joey followed Grace. Grace was giving her a quick run down of sirens and what to expect while gathering her supplies. You noticed since the last time you had been in the office there were more papers scattered about. The growing stack of papers on the victim’s pile did nothing to ease your worries. You were confident in saying Joey would make it back alive but if you were looking at things realistically it wouldn’t be good, you would be on the water at night, no one besides Grace knowing where you were going, and you’d be going to face with you didn’t even know how many sirens.
“These,” Grace said, holding up a little black box. “Are the most important.”
Joey took the box from her with a furrowed brow and flipped the lid open. “Ear plugs?” she questioned.
“Made of wax.” Grace continued to dig around her desk for what else she was looking for.
“Just like in the Odyssey,” you added. Joey’s head snapped to you, you couldn’t help but smirk and give a little shrug at her impressed look.
“Put them in as soon as you get out on the water,” Grace continued, ignoring your comment. “They’re the only thing that will keep you from falling under the sirens spell.”
“Got it,” Joey nodded and put the box in her jacket pocket.
“For the captain,” Grace handed you an envelope. You shoved it in your jacket pocket as well, tucking it away without looking at it. You didn’t need to look at it, you could tell by the weight that Grace was paying him a substantial amount.
“How do we kill these things?” You and Grace gave each other a look as Joey looked between the two of you.
“They’re only mortal,” Grace said softly. “It doesn’t take anything special to kill them but-”
“The key is hitting them,” you finished for her. “They hide under the water, under the cover of night, and if you hear their song,” you shook your head. “You might as well be lost already.”
“So, we’ll have actual weapons this time?” Joey asked. You couldn’t blame her, both of you had been caught off guard by the succubi. You had gotten lucky that the party had been thrown in an old mansion with weapons strewn throughout the place.
“Yes,” Grace assured, resting a comforting hand on Joey’s shoulder. “I already have a bag made up,” she nodded at you. “It’s in the weapons room.”
You nodded and walked off to grab the bag. As soon as you got to the weapons room you saw the black duffle bag sitting on the table. You unzipped it a little to get a sneak peak as to what Grace picked out for you. You couldn’t help but smirk when you saw the silver tip of a spear. Guns were fun, they were easier to aim but they weren’t your first choice of weapon when going after a siren, part of you was silently hoping the boat would have a harpoon on it.
Before zipping the bag back up you caught the glint of a small explosive charge. You sucked in a breath, Grace had really thought of everything, not that you were surprised. When you knew what you were dealing with Grace was always prepared. Grace would have the basics laid out for you while also preparing for the worst. There had been one too many times when the two of you would go off on a mission thinking you were dealing with a lone vampire or something only to be led back to an entire den. It was always better to be overprepared in Grace’s eyes and you weren’t one to complain, her methods were what had kept you alive this long.
You finished zipping up the bag then swung it over your shoulder and made your way back to the front door. As you approached the foyer you saw Joey and Grace already there. You opened the front door, allowing Joey to go first.
Before you could follow though Grace rested a hand on your arm, making you turn to face her. She pulled you into a hug and you instantly wrapped your free arm around her like you had done many times. “Before careful,” she whispered.
“Always,” you whispered back. You could feel Grace suppress a sigh, but she didn’t say whatever she clearly wanted to.
You made your way out of the mansion and towards your car. You gave a thankful smile as Joey opened the trunk, allowing you to toss the duffle bag of weapons in the back. You gave Grace one last wave goodbye as you and Joey hopped back in the car. You tapped your phone, seeing Grace had already sent the location to you.
You groaned when you saw it was almost an hour drive away, it was no wonder Grace was rushing around. You guys needed to get out on the water before sunrise if you had any hope of finding the sirens. You turned the volume of the radio down low enough that you could talk to Joey if she wanted but it was loud enough to hear so you weren’t sitting in complete silence.
After leaving the mansion and a few turns you were finally on the main road, and it was mostly a straight shot until you got closer. “So, what do you know about sirens?” Joey asked. “You and Grace don’t seem to be messing around with this one.”
“Grace never messes around when it comes to a job,” you replied.
“You know what I mean,” she rolled her eyes. “She seemed more intense with this one.” You felt Joey’s gaze on you, but you kept your eyes on the road. “So do you.”
“We’ve known each other less than a month and you think you know me?” You joked, lightly chuckling to make sure Joey knew you weren’t serious.
“I’m good at reading people.” You could practically hear Joey smirking. “You can’t be serious,” she admitted. “When you want to be.” You smiled to yourself. “But this is different.”
You sighed and let one of your hands fall off the steering wheel as you got more relaxed. “This isn’t our first time dealing with sirens as you’ve probably gathered.” Joey nodded. “We were so in over our heads that first time,” you shook your head at the memory. “We got lucky it was only a handful. It didn’t matter what we did, people just kept dying.” You cleared your throat when you realized you were getting emotional. You didn’t think about it often but when you did, images of the carnage left behind played through your mind on repeat. “Our mistakes then, is what made it so we could be prepared today.”
Joey didn’t say anything at first, she just nodded. You had been on a boat filled with people, just you, Grace, and the crew, but it had been a big crew. People were picked off left and right, people flung themselves off the side of the boat, only to be yanked down under the water, never to resurface. You hadn’t known what you were dealing with at the time, you almost lost Grace, you almost lost yourself, it wasn’t until you found a way to plug your ears that you finally were able to fight back. Despite how hard you tried, you and Grace were the only ones to walk away that day, the boat sank, and a couple days later the coast guard found you. It was one of the only times neither of you had to come up with a story, just a boating accident with no survivors.
“And I assume they don’t just go after men?” Joey asked, breaking the silence again.
You shook your head. “That’s just the stories,” you said. “Most sailors are men; it makes sense why that myth got started. Men are more useful for them.” Joey nodded, probably remembering what you had told her about sirens needing men to reproduce. “They have nothing against going after women though, there’s no ulterior motive for keeping them alive, so,” you shook your head as you stared at the dark road ahead of you. “You’d be lucky if you drown before they start ripping you apart.”
You drove in silence the rest of the way. You wouldn’t call it uncomfortable, just that there was a more somber mood throughout the rest of the drive. You didn’t want to scare Joey by any means, but she needed to know what she was getting into. When you got there it would just be you, her, and the captain, she needed to know what to expect. You were going to do everything in your power to protect her, but anything could go wrong.
Before you knew it you were pulling into a parking space near the docks. You looked out the windshield, there was absolutely no life to be seen, except for the one boat with lights on. “Guess that’s our ride,” you mumbled.
You and Joey both got out of the car and went around back to grab the duffle bag. You led the way down the dock and towards the boat. The captain was waiting in front of the boat as the two of you approached. “Got the rest of my money?” he asked in greeting.
You had to contain your eyeroll and remind yourself he was doing you a favor, even if it was just for money. You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope, opening it just enough for him to see the cash inside. The captain stepped forward, but you tucked the envelope back into your jacket. “When we’re on the water,” you said, your voice leaving no room for argument.
The captain grumbled something as he turned around to board the boat. You waited a second before he got up on the deck and gestured for you to follow. You looked back at Joey who raised her eyebrows and walked past you to climb aboard. You jumped onto the boat and handed the duffle bag up to Joey so you could climb up the rest of the way.
Once the boat was untied and the anchor raised the captain set sail. You and Joey moved to the front of the boat, dropping the duffle on one of the boxes close by, and occasionally glancing at your own GPS to make sure the captain was headed to the right area. You were at least half an hour out from the place you suspected the sirens to be, but you kept your eyes peeled anyway, making sure to follow the light from the ship as it swung around.
You glanced at the GPS again to see you were almost there. You furrowed your brow when a sizeable rock formation appeared. “What?” Joey asked.
“Seems there’s rocks or an island of some sort,” you answered.
“Is that bad?”
You clenched the GPS just a bit tighter. “Possibly.”
“Why?”
You looked back up, scanning the water, you could just make out the outline of the rocks. “We should put in the ear plugs,” is all you said.
Joey gave you a look but pulled out the little box, flipping the lid open for you. You grabbed a pair and popped them in your ears, everything instantly becoming muffled. You looked over to see Joey doing the same. The two of you wouldn’t be able to talk well unless you were close and yelling at each other, but it was better safe than sorry.
Your head snapped to the side when you saw something making a splash. You leaned over the railing and stared down into the water, seeing nothing but darkness. You leaned back, about to turn and call to Joey when something shot out of the water and slammed into you.
You slid across the deck until you slammed into a metal bin. When you opened your eyes, they instantly went wide and your hands shot out, holding the siren back. She had long black hair, her eyes were a milky grey and her skin pale grey, she snapped her razor sharp teeth at your neck. You could feel her tail flopping around as you held her off.
The next thing you knew, a gun fired, and blood splattered across your face. You tossed the body off you, seeing she had been shot through the neck. You looked over to see Joey still holding the gun out.
Your eyes widened as you saw another one jump out of the water, aiming directly for Joey. Joey whipped around, firing three in the chest. She stepped back, letting the body land at her feet.
You scrambled to your feet and rushed to the duffle, ripping it all the way open and pulling out a spear gun. You got the gun loaded as you ran to the edge of the boat, whipping it around as you scanned the water for another one. As soon as one popped her head out of the water you fired, sending the spear right through her heart.
When you looked up you saw several pairs of eyes shining in the light as it passed by. “Fuck,” you whispered.
You ran back to the duffle and started loading up on all the explosives and grabbed another spear to reload. Just as you turned around you saw another siren jump out of the water and knock Joey overboard. “No!” you didn’t hesitate to rush across the deck and dive over the railing and into the water.
Your eyes landed on Joey being dragged deeper and you loaded the spear in the gun. You continued to swim after them as you took aim, sending the spear sailing right past Joey and into the eye of the siren. When Joey broke free of the sirens gripped, she swam to you, and you helped her back to the surface.
She began whipping her head around as the two of you tried to keep your heads above the waves. You looked at her questioningly then you saw her raise a hand to her ear.
You instantly took out your ear plug. “What are you doing?” Joey snapped, making sure your hand stayed closed around them.
“Take mine,” you said. Joey shook her head. “Now,” you ordered, leaving no room for argument.
“What are you going to do?” she asked as she popped one ear plug in.
You looked to the side as your mind started to be flooded with a sweet hum. “It’s mating season,” you said, trying to shake your mind clear. Joey raised a questioning brow at you. “Get back on the boat, hold them off as best as you can, I need to blow the nest.”
“Be careful,” Joey said as she popped the other ear plug in.
You nodded and swam towards the rocks. You should have known the spike in deaths was because of mating season. You really wished you could get in contact with Grace. During mating season, a pack of sirens gathered and lured multiple victims to their doom. You had never faced one directly, only read about them or found abandoned ones. If you blew up the nest though, you’d prevent any sirens coming back in future years.
You felt something grab your ankle and yank you under the waves. You kicked and thrashed around, trying to break free of its grip. You finally felt it release you but then next thing you knew it was in front of you. All your thrashing around suddenly stopped, and you just floated there, staring at the gorgeous woman in front of you.
She reached out and ran her hand across the back of your neck, sending a chill down your spine. You didn’t fight as she pulled you forward by the back of the neck, leading you deeper into the water. You closed your eyes, and your mind was flooded with the most beautiful song.
When you opened your eyes again you were met with the gorgeous woman, but you couldn’t help the way your mind drifted back to Joey. You reached out to touch the woman’s face, watching her smile as you caressed her cheek. You guided your hands down as she leaned forward; you leaned in as well. Right before your lips touched you gave a quick twist of your hands, snapping her neck.
You blinked rapidly, trying to come back to yourself. You looked down to no longer see a beautiful woman but a siren, her head nearly twisted all the way around. You looked around, smiling as you realized you were in a cave, the siren brought you directly into the nest.
You got to work, quickly placing the charges underwater and on the little bit of land in the cave. You were in the middle of placing the last charge when something jumped on your back, digging it’s claws into your shoulder and pulling you back under water. You thrashed around in its grasp, forcing it to redirect as it tried to drown you. It didn’t let you go until you hit the bottom of the cave.
You reached down and grabbed the knife you always had strapped to your ankle. You whipped around, slashing the knife at the siren only to meet water. The siren shot forward, grabbing you by the shoulders and slamming you into the ground again. You brought the knife up, stabbing the siren on the side of her tail. She instantly released you with a shriek. While she was distracted you brought the knife down onto her fin, impaling the knife through her and into the cave floor.
She thrashed around, shrieking in pain. You smiled as you swam back. She let out another shriek, it was only a matter of time before the others came. You swam back out of the cave, barely escaping it as three more sirens came darting past you. You were almost clear of the blast range when a siren came from the dark depths, ripping into your leg and dragging you down.
You groaned as you fumbled for the detonator and pressed the button. A second later there was an explosion, sending dirt and debris towards you and the siren. You pushed the siren off you, watching as she was crushed by tumbling rocks. You swam through the murky water, your head finally breaking through the waves.
You swam back to the boat and Joey was there to help pull you back aboard. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re hurt,” she began feeling around your shoulder where the siren had dug her claws into you.
“It’s fine,” you waved her off.
“Let me look at it.”
“It’s-It’s not as bad as it looks.” You rested a hand on hers, getting her to pause her movements. “Please,” you stared into her eyes, silently pleading with her to drop it. She reluctantly nodded.
Joey got you back up to the deck and went to tell the captain to head home and hand him the rest of his money as well. You remained on the deck, wrapped in a towel as you tried to dry off. You peeled back your shirt, getting a glance at the claw marks to see the bleeding had already stopped. You let out a shaky breath and quickly covered the wounds again when Joey came back outside.
The boat ride back was silent, even with you and Joey sitting side by side. Joey would occasionally get up and grab you a dry towel to wrap yourself in. You appreciated the gesture and were mostly dry by the time the boat docked again. You attempted to thank the captain, but he just yelled at you and Joey to get off his ship. He hadn’t left the wheel so you weren’t sure how much he saw but you were confident he wouldn’t say anything about you, the sirens, or the explosion he most likely witnessed.
When you got back to your car you tossed the weapons bag in the back and then slid behind the wheel. As soon as you started the car you let out a scoff, it was almost four in the morning. You started the drive back home in silence, Joey resting her head against the window the entire time, you weren’t sure if she had fallen asleep or what. It had been a long night, you couldn’t blame her if she did fall asleep, she earned it.
It was nearly five when you pulled up outside Joey’s apartment. You looked over to see her still with her head against the window. You couldn’t help but smile as you rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light rub to wake her up. “Hey,” you whispered.
She let out a hum as she slowly came to. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she looked around. “You got just enough time to get some sleep before you got to pick up your kid,” you whispered.
Joey looked at you, resting her head on the back of the seat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
You gave her a nod and watched as she slipped out of the car. “Make sure you get that looked at,” she added, nodding to your shoulder. “Since you won’t let me do it.”
You chuckled but nodded anyway. “Always a doctor,” you mumbled. She gave you a pointed look before turning and heading to her building. You watched and waited until you knew she was safely in her apartment complex. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the sleepiness as you pulled out onto the street to begin making your way back to Graces.
Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @pianogirl2121 @thatshyboy1998 @chxrry-lov3
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leossmoonn · 11 months ago
Text
five nights with mike (2) | mike schmidt
read part one
summary - a romance develops between you and mike at freddy’s
warnings / includes - reader is fem. established feelings. natural time skips. very loosely follows the plot of the movie but i didn’t want to watch it again for this lol. eventual smut - piv, oral f receiving, brief handjob
————
18+ under the cut
“thank you so much for picking me up. you might have to tomorrow, too.”
mike glances at you, giving you a small smile. “it’s no problem.”
you buckle yourself in and set your purse between your legs on the ground. “how is abby?”
“great. she asks about you all the time,” mike chuckles. “oh,” you sigh, putting your hand on your chest. “she’s adorable. maybe sometime we can eat lunch or something together.”
his heart spikes and he nods enthusiastically. “that-that would be awesome. yeah and, uh, i can pay this time. i can even make it, too.”
“mike schmidt cooks, huh?” you grin at him. “i only know how to make a few things, but i like cooking in general. just give me a recipe and i’ll try my best,” he says.
“mmm. well, i love a man who can cook,” you remark, looking out the window. heat creeps up mike’s neck and reaches his ears. “just let me know what kind of food you like, and i’ll make it. i’m not a trained chef or anything, though, so if it’s bad then i don’t say i didn’t warn you.”
“i bet you’re better than me. i personally like baking better,” you say.
“baking is cool, but it takes too long and i’m an impatient person.”
“well, how about you cook and i’ll bring the dessert.”
“oh, you don’t have to do that,” mike shakes his head. “you’re already so busy with work.”
“it’s no trouble. i’ve stated to get later shifts at my day job. it means i work later, but more time to sleep and some more time reserved for things like baking.”
“that’s great to hear. do you feel like you sleep better now?”
“no,” you snort. “if anything, i feel worse, but that’s just my brain. i can tell my body appreciates it.”
mike hums in response. “tonight you can sleep the majority of the shift if you’d like.”
“and leave you all alone? no. after what happened to abby, i’m kind of scared to sleep there.”
mike rolls his bottom lip in between his teeth. “don’t let abby scare you. she has lots of imaginary friends even before i took her there, which won’t be happening again.”
“right,” you sigh. “it’s just that i swore i heard other voices. like a man’s voice.”
mike feels the hairs raise up on his arms even under his jacket. “maybe tonight we can scope it out.”
“sure. hopefully we don’t die. imagine those fur things coming to life and murdering us,” you shiver in thought.
mike chuckles, “that would be wild.”
mike parks his car at the pizzeria. you grab your purse and lead the way in. as you step inside, there’s a cracking sound. you look under your shoe, seeing a bunch of glass on the floor.
“holy shit,” you gasp. you look at the diner, seeing it totally trashed.
“fuck, um. yeah, steve mentioned this to me earlier. i-i must’ve forgot,” mike says sheepishly. he really did forget. he must’ve been so clouded by his excitement to see you, he scraped his conversation with steve completely.
“it’s okay. it’s not like you warning me would’ve changed what happened.” you can’t believe your eyes. it seems like every table in the diner is flipped over or broken. glass litters the floor and you’re thankful you chose to wear sneakers tonight and not slippers like you have been. “what did happen?” you turn to mike.
“i guess a bunch of people came in here after we left and trashed it. i’m not sure why. i swore we locked all the doors.”
“yeah, i thought we did, too. we wanted to get abby out of here fast, though, so we could’ve missed something.”
“yeah, that’s what i was thinking, too,” mike sighs. “i guess you really won’t be getting any rest tonight.”
“it’s alright,” you shrug. “i just don’t know if we’ll be able to get the diner back to its original state.”
“it’s not like anybody but us comes here,” mike jokes. you smile and nod, “right.” you set your purse down on one of the booth tables that isn’t destroyed. “let’s get to it.”
mike and you spend most of the night cleaning. you were shocked to find even more mess in the hallway and kitchen areas. everything was going smoothly until you find what you think is blood splattered all over the storage room window.
“mike?” you call out. there’s no answer and a pang of worry hits your chest. “mike?” you shout louder.
“coming!” you hear him. fast footsteps echo in the hallway and you can’t help but feel creeped out. you always thought this place was weird and dinky. you only accepted the job because you found out another person was working, and while you feel very save with mike, you just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something seriously wrong with this place.
“what’s up?” mike asks. you point to the window and his eyes widen. “oh,” he says. “um, maybe that’s the blood of the person destroying the place?”
“maybe. but it’s from the inside.”
“yeah,” mike gulps. “we can tell steve about it or something. we were hired to babysit this place, not be a clean up crew.”
“right,” you nod. he grabs your hand gently and you feel butterflies erupt in your tummy. “let’s go back to the office. we only have a couple more hours here. we can relax from cleaning then just be done.”
you smile in agreement, letting him lead you out of the hallway. soon your mind wanders away from the eerie feelings. you talk about everything and nothing. you laugh at every terrible joke he makes. he listens intently to stories about your family. with each minute, it seems like you two get closer — both emotionally and physically. by the end of the shift, you’re sitting knee-to-knee. your foot is brushing up against his jeans, feeling the muscle of his calf. both of your hands are rested on the desk and his fingers routinely brush up against yours. soon, they’re basically intertwined. you don’t know how they got there, but you’re not complaining.
“looks like we made it without dying,” mike says. you grin, “until tomorrow.”
“shall i take you home, then?” he asks. your face falls and he catches it, but you’re quick to mask it. “yeah, sure.” the disappointment seeps into you, but you know you’ll see him again soon. you just wish you could have more time with him.
you both walk out, triple checking that everything is shut and locked. the car ride home is silent, but it’s comfortable. you glance at mike every so often, admiring him from the passenger seat. his hair is tousled from running his hands in it. his eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on driving, his eyes moving every so often as he watches the road. your eyes trial down the shape of his nose, noticing the tiniest bump towards the top.
dread fills you as he pulls into your driveway. you purse your lips as you try to think of what will allow you to spend more time with him.
“what’re your plans for today?” you ask. “nothing much. abby’s with a babysitter right now. thankfully, it’s the weekend so i don’t have to rush to take her to school,” he answers.
“ah,” you hum. he looks to you, seeing your face in deep concentration as you stare at your lap. “what about you? you work later today, right?”
“yep. at 2,” you say. he glances at the dashboard clock that reads 6:30 am. “you have a while then. are you tired?” he asks.
“not really. honestly, staying up all night kind of gave me a boost of energy.”
“me, too,” he nods. you can’t help but sigh. there’s no good reason for him to come inside or even for you to go back to his house. you figure you just have to wait until tonight.
“thank you again for driving me. are you able to pick me up later?” you ask.
“of course,” he nods. you smile, “great! i really appreciate it.”
“it’s really no problem,” he smiles. you start to get out of the car, but he stops you. “hey, can i, uh, use your bathroom really quickly?”
“yeah,” you nod a little too much. “thank you,” he says, stepping out of his car. you unlock the front door, trying to remember if you left your house a complete mess or not. you’re relieved to see that you did not.
mike looks around your house. it looks identical to his from the outside, but the inside is a whole different story. he wonders if you hired an interior decorator because of how beautiful it looks.
“the bathroom is down the hall to the right,” you say. he turns to look at you, then to the hallway. “thanks,” he says, making his way to the closed door.
you take off your shoes, placing them neatly on the small shoe rack you have by the door. there are some dirty dishes on the coffee table in your living room from your last meal, but you’re sure he doesn’t mind. everyone has dirty dishes laying out from time to time. you take the opportunity to load them in your dishes washer, re-folding some blankets and fluffing up the couch pillows.
you’re sat on your couch when mike comes out.
“are you hungry?” you ask. “no,” he lies. he wants to stay, but he doesn’t want to be a burden to you.
“oh, come on. we haven’t eaten in like, eight hours. at least i haven’t. i have some cinnamon rolls that would love to be baked.”
“would they, though?”
you giggle and stand up. “will your babysitter mind staying a little late?”
“i’ll call her,” mike says. he takes out his phone, dialing his home phone. it takes a moment or two for someone to pick up. “hello?” abby’s voice echos.
“hey, abby. is max there?” he asks. “yes. she just got me breakfast from mcdonald’s,” abby says.
“oh, that’s nice of her. do you mind if i speak to her real quick?”
“okay. max!”
mike quickly pulls the phone away as abby yells into the mic.
“hello?” max says. “hey, max. i, uh, got caught up at the pizzeria. are you able to stay and watch her for an hour or so?” mike asks.
“yeah, of course,” she says quickly. “awesome. i’ll pay you extra, i promise,” mike says.
“it’s okay, mike. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“yep,” he hangs up, waking into the kitchen where you’re setting out the dough.
“ah, these are pre-packaged,” mike remarks. “nobody has time to make cinnamon rolls by scratch,” you say.
“says the person who likes baking. or do you just like fake baking?”
“this is not fake baking!” you exclaim. “i am putting it in the oven and going to put icing over it.”
“whatever you say.” mike leans against your counter, crossing his arms over his chest. you can’t help but notice him flex his biceps.
“i bet you fake cook,” you quip. his brows raise in question. “and what does that entail?”
“you put a foam cup full of ramen and warm it up in the microwave.”
“those are delicious.”
“i mean, yeah, but it’s so hard to put an egg in it and sometimes the noodles aren’t soft enough.”
“well, i usually cook my ramen on the stovetop. so if i ever make you that, you’ll know it’s real cooking.”
you laugh at his joke, your eyes flickering from the rolls to him a few times. you think about doing this again with him, next time with him making you food. you think about being in his house, seeing how he lives, looking at the pictures he may have on the walls, or lack thereof. you think about sitting on his couch and watching a movie, shoulders and knees touching. you wonder what his room looks like, what color his sheets are. you want to know what he looks like sleeping and waking up. you want to know what he looks like on top of you and between your thighs.
“what else do you know how to make?” you ask.
“chicken pot pie.”
“pot pie? wow.” you are genuinely impressed.
“i’ve been told i make a mean stir fry, too.”
“you’ll have to make it for me then. does abby like your cooking?” you ask, putting the pan in the preheated oven.
“only if it’s spaghetti and waffles.”
“i see that she’s a simple girl.”
“food-wise, she is. but i don’t mind. they’re both easy things to make.”
“it’s sweet.” you turn to him, leaning against the counter diagonal from him. “how you take care of her. she’s lucky to have you.”
“truth is, i’m lucky to have her. we don’t always get along, but she keeps me going.”
“that is adorable,” you awe. “i am an only child, so i envy people who have siblings.”
“it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it’s nice just having someone there.”
“seems like it,” you say. you move to your coffee maker, turning it on and finding a k-cup to use. “would you like some coffee?”
“i would,” he nods. “can you grab us some mugs? they’re in the cabinet behind your head,” you direct.
he does so, placing the cups on the counter. he moves to slide it to you at the same time you put your hand on it. your heart skips a beat. your eyes shoot to his and you see they’re already on you. you watch his eyes trail down to your lips and the back up to your own eyes. you feel weak in the knees as he stares at you through his lashes. his eyes are wide and full of innocence, but there’s a hint of mischief in them as his pupils begin to widen.
“thank you,” you say, your voice coming out barely above a whisper.
“mhm,” he hums, his voice low and smooth. “how do you like your coffee?” you ask.
“one sugar and a splash of milk or creamer. whatever you have,” he answers.
“i have some creamer in the fridge.” you head towards your refrigerator. he watches you as you bite your lip as you search for the creamer. you shut the fridge door gently, setting the creamer next to the coffee maker. you open the cabinet above of you, grabbing a couple packets of sugar. he keeps his eyes on you as the silence settles in.
this feels so nice. being with you in your house feels nice. being close to you, spending time with you feels nice. mike wants to do this every day. he wants to fall asleep holding you close like he did the other night in the office. he wants to live with you and make dinner for you, having it await your arrival after your day shift. he wants to wake up next to you, tracing circles on your skin until they eventually become replaced with kisses. he wants to know how you’d look on top of him, riding his dick and face.
soon the cinnamon rolls are done. you take them out of the oven, waiting a few moments before icing them.
“you’re pretty good at icing,” you say. “thank you. these are kind of hard to ice since they’re so warm,” he chuckles.
“yeah, you’re supposed to wait, but i’m starving.” you take a bite into the roll, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. mike can’t help but notice that his jeans feel uncomfortably tight all the sudden. he takes a bite of his roll, making a note of how good they are.
“you can never go wrong with these,” you say. you take another bite, some icing sticking to the top of your lip. “you have a little bit of something here.” mike’s pinky points to his own lips.
“oh, god,” you laugh, heat creeping up your neck from embarrassment. “i should’ve warned you, i’m a messy eater.” you take a napkin and wipe it over the bottom half of your lip.
mike smiles and sets his roll down. “here, let me.”
you nod and place the napkin down, his fingers brushing against yours once more. he moves closer to you, leaning his head in to where your foreheads are almost touching. his gaze is trained on your lips as he cups your face, swiping his thumb over your lips. you don’t realize you’re holding in a breath until he looks into your eyes.
“thank you,” you manage to say. your throat feels dry all of the sudden and you feel hot all over. “no problem,” he says.
the air is thick between you two. you’re so close, closer than you’ve ever been. you can feel the heat radiating off of him. when you inhale you can smell him. he smells like the woods, spearmint, and vanilla. you can recognize the spearmint smell from his car. you wonder if the woodsy smell is natural and if the vanilla is the scent of his body wash.
he doesn’t move is hand away and you’re sure you don’t want him to. his eyes move across your face, not sure whether to stare at your lips or your eyes. he sucks in a deep breath, swallowing slowly. you watch as his adam’s apple bobs up and down, his jaw becoming more sharp as he bites down on his back teeth for a moment.
“can i kiss you?” his voice is low and warm. your eyes flutter in surprise, your heart following in suit. his big brown eyes stare into yours, holding your eyes hostage.
“yes,” you finally say. he slowly moves in, his hand moving upwards to touch the nape of your neck. you try to control your breathing as you watch his eyes flicker from yours to your lips. he brushes his bottom lip against yours, causing a thrill to run up your spine. his head moves back slightly, but he makes up for it with closing the gap between you two.
kissing him feels like a weight taken off your shoulders. all the tension you’ve felt releases as you move your lips with his. he kissed you so gently, a little too soft, like he’s holding back. after a few seconds he pulls away, both of you catching your breaths.
“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he says. you smile, grabbing his free hand. “well, don’t stop.”
he kisses you again, this time harder. it’s almost bruising. he grabs your waist, holding you tighter and closer. you take a shower breath and his tongue slips into your mouth. you moan softly as his hand slivers down to your ass and squeezing the soft tissue. your arms wrap around him and your weave your fingers through his hair. it’s so soft like you’ve always imagined.
“can i do this?” mike breathes against your lips. your eyes are still closed as he slides both hands up your shirt. you answer him by pulling away completely and taking your shirt off, revealing your nude-colored bra. you expect his eyes to drop down immediately, but you watch as they follow your jaw and down your neck. they sweep across the area where your collarbones are, then finally landing on your breasts.
his hands walk up your sides, making you laugh a little bit. he smiles at you, his eyes jumping up to yours now. you can’t help but squeeze your thighs just by the way he’s looking at you. he attaches his lips to yours once more, but it’s not long before he starts to trail down to your neck and your chest. you unhook your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders to the ground. you lean against the counter as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples. you let out a little gasp as he pinches them, looking up at you to try and gage your reaction. he closes his lips around one nipple, flicking it with his tongue. you sigh this time, your hand falling to his head.
you feel his hands skim down to your pants. his fingers hook under the waistband, feeling over the cotton of your underwear. you shift your weight, feeling that the tension is almost unbearable. it’s painful as you watch him slowly slide down your pants. he runs his tongue down the valley of your breasts, pressing wet all over your tummy before landing at the top of your underwear. you step out of your pants, feeling the cold air hit your legs, making you shiver.
his left hand grabs the underside of your thigh. his hand is so warm against your cold skin. it feels nice, but not as nice as the feeling you get when he runs the pads of his fingertips down your underwear. he skims just over your slit, feeling some of the wetness that has collected. you want to slap the smirk off his face, but it makes your stomach flip.
“is there anything i should do?” he asks. now he looks all innocent, staring at you with wide eyes and raised brows.
“i could think of a few things,” you say. “mm, like what?” he inquires. his fingers are at the side of your panties. you watch in anticipation as you wait for him to pull them to the side. “tell me what you want,” mike says.
you swallow hard. “i… i want your fingers inside of me. and your mouth on me.”
you can see all of his top teeth as he smiles. “that’s all you had to say.”
you spread your legs, using the counter as a crutch. he pushes your underwear aside, slipping one finger into you. heat creeps up your neck at the sound of your cunt gushing. he slides it out momentarily, finding your clit to moisten the area. he slides two fingers in this time, curling them inside of you. he watches you again, seeing your lips part and chest heave up and down. you feel your brain go numb as he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he brings his mouth to your cunt.
“ohmygod,” you rush out, your head lolling back. his tongue flicks your clit, sucking every so often. you lead so far back your back is supported by your cabinets. one of your hands hold his head, your fingers gripping his hair. your other hand is digging your fingernails into his clothes shoulder.
“fuck, mike,” you gasp as he quickens the pace of his fingers ever so slightly. he hits that spot so perfectly, and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs around his head. his tongue starts making stronger strokes on your clit. not enough to make it hurt, but enough to make you feel like you’re already about to orgasm.
you’ve talked to mike about past lovers. you know he’s had a couple and for only short periods of time. you assumed he would be experienced, but not an expert, which you had no problem with. he’s sure as hell proving you wrong now.
“don’t stop, don’t stop,” you breathe out. you place one hand next to you on the counter, gripping the marble top so hard you think it might leave an imprint in your palm. “mike, mike,” you warn him, your throat constricting and heart racing. your toes curl in your socks and you clench your thighs around his head one last time.
you have to push his head away, seeing the dazed look on his face. his fingers exit you and he sucks them dry. you visibly gulp, feeling warmth fill your lower stomach as you watch him. all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears and your heavy breathing.
“good?” he asks. “yes,” you nod enthusiastically. “so good.”
you grab him by his shirt, crashing your lips onto his. you taste yourself on his lips. both of your hands drop down to his jeans, undoing his belt quickly. his heart skips in excitement as his pant pool at his ankles. you palm him through his brief, feeling how hard he it. it must be painful, you think, and it is. he was already hard from the moment he kissed you, and it didn’t get any better when giving you head.
you pull away and wet your hand with your spit, shoving your hand down his boxers. both of his hands grip your waist as you wrap your fingers around his length, pumping it in your hands, squeezing every so often. your other hand reached down to his balls, massaging them gently, but at the same pace as your other hand.
“shit,” mike groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. he already feels like he’s going to blow a load. he hasn’t had sex in a long while, but he didn’t his stamina was this terrible. he knows it’s you, though. you’re the reason why his fingertips are digging into your skin. you’re the reason why his pre-cum is leaking all over your hand. you’re the reason why when he feels like he’s close to coming, he stops you because he wants — no, needs — to feel what it’s like inside of you.
“do you have a condom?” mike breaths out. “yeah,” you say. you quickly make your way to one of your drawers, pulling out a packet. “these work?” you ask.
“yes,” he nods. “you just keep condoms laying around?”
“easy access,” you shrug.
“you fuck everybody in your kitchen, then?”
“only my hot co-workers.”
he blushes at your comment. you give him a wink, tearing open the condom. you hand it to him and he slides it on. you grab the bottle of lube you keep handy as well, slathering it onto the condom, giving mike a playful squeeze that elicits a low groan. he takes you by the waist and kisses you, spinning you around so now yours against the counter again. you take your panties off and hop on, the cold marble feeling nice against your blazing hot skin.
you lean back, watching mike line himself up with you. he looks into your eyes then back down, pushing himself inside of you. you gasp softly, your grip on his shoulders tightening. he starts off slow at first, basking in your warmth and tight walls. but soon, he’s fucking you. he slides his arm under your back and pulls your bottom half towards him, causing the angle to change. he hikes one of your legs up, allowing him to lean into you more and just hit that spot deep inside of you deliciously.
“mike,” you pant into his shoulder, holding yourself close to him. he makes your eyes flutter shut and roll back farther with each thrust. you pulsate around him with every whimper and moan that comes out of his mouth. you soon feel that familiar feeling bubble in your lower stomach.
mike rests his head against your cabinet, looking down and watching as he slides in and out of you. his grip on your sides tighten as he tries to focus on other things than you, but he can’t. you’re just too sexy. the way you’re moaning in his ear, chanting his name with each thrust. the way your nails begin to scrape against his shoulder blades. not to mention, you look amazing just sitting on the countertop. he can’t not think about you and the fact that he’s inside of you.
that’s all he needs to finish.
you wrap both legs around him as you come. your head leans back, your eyes screwing shut. he comes with you, stopping after a few slow thrusts. he slides out of you, chest heaving up and down. you squeeze your legs together and swear you can still feel him inside of you.
he ties the condom and throws it into your trash can. you have a big smile on your face when he turns to look at you. he can’t help but mirror it.
“how, uh, was that?” he asks, suddenly becoming bashful. “amazing,” you breathe out. “how did i do?” you ask teasingly.
“you were…. perfect.” his pupils are blown and you can’t tell where his iris starts. his words make your body feel even more warm. you jump off your counter and put your clothes back on, making a note to wipe off your counter with lysol soon.
“i should get back home to abby,” mike says. your smile falls, but you understand. “she probably misses you.”
“probably not,” he chuckles. “well, i know i will.” you take his hands into yours.
“you’ll see me soon,” he says, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.
“i will,” you smile, starting to feel excited again. you walk him outside, leaning on the hood of his car. “i hope to do this again sometime,” you say.
“me, too. maybe sometime before work i can make you dinner?” he suggests.
you’re smiling so hard your cheeks are starting to hurt. “i would love that.”
————
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@celestbarnes
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golbrocklovely · 5 days ago
Text
guardian angel // colby brock
A/N: hey yall, hope you're enjoying my 13 nights so far! this fic was really fun to write and i'm excited to see what you guys think. let me know and happy haunting :)
prompt: you are colby's guardian angel, and have been watching over him his entire life. suddenly you learn that he's going to die, much sooner than you thought. it's against the rules, but you must save him. || colby brock x fem!reader
trigger warning: angst, cursing, colby (almost) dies, heaven is like an office setting lol, time jump, happy ending
word count: 4182
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~~~~~~~~~~
Being a guardian angel was no easy feat. Many angels weren’t cut out for the job; too many rules and regulations, too much of a numbers game. But I, Y/N, was born for it.
No literally, God created me to be a guardian angel. And I was the best one around. I had been one for eons, millenniums. I was the top ranking amongst my division. I prided myself on my clean and non-rule breaking record. Being a guardian angel was basically a full time job. Constantly watching over your person, making sure to lead them in the right direction, lend a helping hand when you could… it took up a lot of time. And luckily for humans, angels never needed sleep.
Guardian angels had a very strict job. And if done right, when your person would pass on you were allowed to guide them into the light, let them know how you cared for them, and help them find peace once moved on. It was a job I had become good at. One I had done millions of times.
Then I was tasked with a new human to watch over. His name is Colby Brock.
His early years were pretty uneventful. Most humans' childhoods are. I watched him as he went through all the milestones: his first crush, school, puberty, his angsty phase - that somehow never left - and many other little moments. Everything about his life, and what it was going to be, was written out. Of course humans had free will and the ability to change things, but certain situations were destined.
In particular, his meeting of Sam Golbach.
They were destined to be lifelong friends, business partners, and platonic soulmates. Interestingly however, when they did meet, Colby’s death meter spiked for a moment.
A death meter, as its name sounds, measured the amount of death surrounding a person at any given time. I realized that Sam, while extremely important in Colby’s life, might lead him down certain paths he wouldn’t have taken on his own; which of course could always lead to his early demise.
But I trusted Sam, not only because he was a good person, but because his guardian angel was good at their job as well. Not as good as me, of course...
As time slowly ticked on day by day, year by year, I had this feeling inside of myself. One that I had noticed in many humans but never experienced personally. I for one was an angel, and human emotions weren’t exactly something that came easily to us. But this one… was inherent in everything living.
I had grown to love him. I loved all of my persons that I had cared for over my time as a GA, but he was something different. And the love I felt for him was too.
I watched Colby grow up, struggle. He was hard on himself a lot, internally and externally. I tried my best to send him love in many ways, and sometimes they would help. But it was temporary. There were times I wanted to reach out, to help him more. To maybe even speak directly to him in ways that weren’t allowed.
Guardian angels and humans weren’t meant to speak to one another, unless in the very rare occasion of psychics. But true psychics…. They had once been angels too. That was our punishment for breaking rules: you lost your angel privileges and became human. Depending on how many rules you broke, you would spend multiple cycles being a human, going through the ups and downs over and over again. It was described as a terrible existence in a way, far beyond one of just a normal human. And maybe if you paid your dues you could become an angel again, but there was no guarantee.
I knew my love for Colby was odd in multiple ways. I shouldn’t have felt this for him, this ache in my (what would be) heart, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to protect him, to make sure he was okay every moment of every day. And it was far beyond what my job required. But I didn’t care.
He had had many scares before, coming a little too close to death for my liking. I would peak into the future in those times, seeing if he would come out the other side. And luckily he always did. He was only 27 years old, and had many years left to live from what I saw.
But then he made the wrong choice.
Sam and Colby were ghost hunters, a first for any human I was a GA for. I watched them go from place to place, the death meter spiking at random. Truly, since this career pivot, my job had become a constant heart attack waiting to happen.
If I could get one of those, of course.
And one day, the death meter went to a high voltage; one that was only reserved for when someone was dying that very day.
I glared, puzzled at the device. Surely this was a mistake. He had years to go, many things to accomplish. There was no way he was dying.
I flipped his book open, reading the words carefully. He was hunting at a random location in Wyoming, a place called the Seesaw Inn. It was old, decrepit, and definitely was a safety hazard.
I read ahead quickly, needing to know what was going to happen, because in the current time, him and Sam were just walking around with the owner, getting a feel for the place. But his story continued on past that point and into the night. On the last page of his book, it spelt out the way he would go: Colby entered the third floor, walking towards room 312. Both boys were told how this room was one of the most haunted, and Colby - losing to a game of rock, paper, scissors - was tasked with going into the room alone and standing out on the balcony to see if he could catch a lady in white appear down below. As he stepped onto the balcony, he noticed how creaky the railing of the balcony was. He shrugged it off, turning his camera on and speaking to it softly. “Guys, I’m out here on Room 312’s balcony. Sam is in the basement, doing a solo onvoy investigation, and I’m supposed to call out to the woman in white. I swear if I see her, I’m shitting myself.” He turned the camera to himself, smiling, and leaned slightly on the railing. It suddenly cracked under the pressure of his weight, Colby letting out a shriek. As he tried to catch his footing, he slipped further and over the railing. Then, he fell, hitting his hea-
I stopped reading, gasping at words. No, no no. This couldn't be happening. There's no way he's dying tonight. How is that even possible? He had a whole life to live! This must have been a mistake.
Vida, Sam's guardian angel, rushed up to me. "Y/N, did you see? Colby's gonna di-"
"Yes I did, Vida. I know." I hushed her, looking around our office quickly, hoping no one noticed.
"I can't believe it. I was looking ahead in Sam's future and saw things change." She sighed deeply, "He's gonna need me now more than ever after this."
"No, he won't," I jumped up from my seat. "Because I'm not gonna let this happen."
"What are you talking about, Y/N? You can't change it. It's set in stone." Vida argued, shaking her head.
I began walking hastily towards the elevators. "Yesterday it wasn't. He was gonna live a whole life! And now, because he plans to lean against some rickety old railing, he dies? Not on my watch."
"You can't just go down there and change things. That's not how we help them." She explained.
I glanced back at her, "There's not enough time for me to change his fate. Unless I physically do so."
"But if you go down there...." Her voice fell softly, "you're done. You won't be allowed back."
"I know. But I can't just let him die. Too many people rely on him. There is so much more harm that will come from his passing." I swallowed hard as my eyes locked onto the elevators, "I can't.... watch him die and do nothing."
"I've never seen you like this, in all my years of being a GA." She murmured.
I took a deep breath, hitting the elevator button down. I turned to her, looking into her eyes deeply, "Just make sure the next GA he gets is nice to him, okay? He really needs us sometimes. So make sure they actually listen to him."
"I will." She nodded her head, leaning in quickly and giving me a tight hug. "Goodbye, Y/N."
"Bye, Vida. It was nice knowing you." I pulled away from her, hearing the doors open.
I entered the elevator, clicking the first floor level. As the elevator descended, I imagined Colby and where he was in this moment. I only had a couple more minutes until his demise. I needed to rush to him, and fast.
Finally the last 'ding' of the elevator clicked. As the doors opened, I looked around my surroundings. It was right outside the Seesaw Inn. I had to get to Colby quickly, so I began flying towards room 312's balcony. I knew he would be there any moment, the clocking ticking down fast.
I stepped over the railing, landing softly onto the balcony. I hid in the corner, right behind where the door would open. A moment passed and Colby came into the room soundly. He mumbled something to himself, walking over to the balcony door and swinging it open.
As he stepped onto the balcony, he glanced at the railing. He shrugged, turning the camera to him and speaking quietly. "Guys, I’m out here on Room 312’s balcony. Sam is in the basement, doing a solo onvoy investigation, and I’m supposed to call out to the woman in white. I swear if I see her, I’m shitting myself.” He turned the camera to himself, smiling, and leaned slightly on the railing. As he began to fall forward, a yell escaping his lips, I grabbed the back of his jacket, holding him back. I yanked him back into the room, knocking him onto the floor.
He shuttered out a cry, gazing up at me in fear, ""W-What the f-fuck?!"
I raised my hands up, "Calm down, Colby. It's alright."
Colby crawled backwards away from me, bumping into the desk nearby. "W-Who are you and how did you get up here? You shouldn't be here."
I stepped into the room but kept my distance from him. I was suddenly overcome with frustration, narrowing my eyes. "Do you know how dangerous that balcony is? You could have died! I mean, you were literally meant to, and all of this over a game of rock-paper-scissors?!"
"Who the hell are you? Did you follow us here?" He stood up quickly, his stance tense.
"You're not gonna believe me when I say this, but I'm your guardian angel. And I just saved your life." I explained plainly.
He paused, his face scrunching, "...My what?"
"Guardian angel. You believe in those, right? At least from what I can tell, you do. So this shouldn't be that much of a shock to you." I half-heartedly laughed.
Colby shook his head, confused. "No... no. You're just some fan that snuck in. You shouldn't be here. You have to leave."
"Do I need to show you my wings to prove to you I'm real?" I asked.
He rolled his eyes, "What? Yeah, sure."
I shrugged, acknowledging his snarky attitude, and fluttered my wings out. The room illuminated with the subtle glow of my wings. Colby stepped back, dropping his camera onto the bed. His eyes were widened in fear and awe.
He kept his eyes on them, "H-Holy... shit."
"I wasn't lying, Colby. I am your guardian angel, and you were supposed to die just then." I stated, slowly folding my wings back up.
He sat down, almost falling onto the bed; the wind being kicked out of him. "There's no way."
"The railing of the balcony is weak, and you were supposed to lean against it, and fall to your death. But I stopped that from happening." I walked over to the railing, Colby's eyes trailing after me curiously. I pushed against the railing, and it broke apart, failing over the balcony. Colby's heart stopped for a moment, his eyes taking everything in.
He swallowed hard, staring at the ground in bewilderment. "Fuck."
"Make sure to sue the person that owns this building for negligence... or something. I'm not entirely sure how human laws work, so just make sure you get some compensation out of your almost death." I remarked, exhaling.
I began to walk towards the door, Colby's voice stopping me. "Wait! Why did you save me?"
I raised an eyebrow at him, "Why?"
"I mean, I figure because you're my... angel, you're supposed to. But why now? Was I not supposed to die?" He questioned, stepping towards me.
"Guardian angels are only supposed to help when you reach out first. Technically what I just did breaks the rule. Actually the biggest rule of them all: don't stop death. We're not supposed to do things like that." I commented, "It kind of fucks with timelines and whatnot."
"But you did it." He breathed.
I nodded. "Yes, I did."
"Why?" Colby whispered.
I took a deep breath, getting close to him slowly. "You are extremely important, Colby. There are so many things left in this world that I know you need to get to. And I don't know why your path changed so quickly, but I knew I had to stop it before it was too late. I couldn't watch you die. I... care about you too much. And so do many others. And I made the executive decision that it wasn't your time to go just yet."
His eyes welled up for a moment, "Thank you. I don't think I'm even remotely ready to die."
"Most aren't. But at least you know now is not your time." I leaned up sweetly, kissing his cheek. "Goodbye Colby."
He held my hand gently, and I felt my being go warm. "Will I ever see you again?"
"Probably not. I'm actually gonna be in huge trouble once I get back upstairs. They'll most like reassign me to someone else," I lied. "So you'll have a new guardian angel. But I'll still check on you from time to time."
He bit his lip. "I don't even know what to say."
"It's okay. There isn't much you can. By the way, the footage on that camera is a no go... can't exactly have people knowing we're around like this." I snapped my fingers, the camera making a bunch of weird clicking noises and then shutting off.
He picked up the camera, looking it over. "Did you delete all of the footage?"
"No. I actually gave you a little present on there so... you're welcome. I guess." I chuckled, walking into the hallway.
I waltzed towards the elevator for the Inn, an up button appear on the panel, glowing a dim white light. I clicked it, waiting for the doors to open.
He cocked his head, squinting his eyes at the doors. "The elevator doesn't work."
It softly 'dinged' and I smirked over at him. "It does for me."
He raced up to the doors, his eyes locking with mine. "I never caught your name."
My breath hitched, tears brimming at my eyes. I shouldn't feel sadness, but in this moment I did. Because I knew once I left him, I would never see him again. I turned my head to him, smiling as brightly as I could. "Y/N. My name is Y/N."
He smiled back. "Goodbye, Y/N."
"Goodbye Colby." I choked back a cry, "I love you."
~~~~
20 Years Later
Most angels, when turned into humans, lose all of their memories when it comes to their past lives. Especially guardian angels. We aren't meant to remember a thing about what we once were.
I was somehow blessed, or cursed, with remembering it all.
After being berated by management, I was turned into a human. I lived a relatively normal life, full of the usual heartache and suffering. And over time I became less of an angel and more human as the years went on.
Luckily for me, they didn't make me start out as a baby. I came down to Earth as a freshly new adult. I was now 34, working part time retail and part time in a bar in downtown Los Angeles.
So I was, essentially, sent to hell in at least one way.
I originally kept tabs on Colby, but slowly as time went on I stopped. It was hard to constantly watch him from the sidelines enjoy his life, even though that's what I used to do. I did check on him every so often, seeing how life was treating him. And he seemed fine; happy, even. And that's all I had wanted for him. I never went searching for him. I didn't think it was smart for me to do so. It all hurt too much that he was so close yet so far away at the same time.
But God always finds the sense of humor in things.
I wiped down the counter of the bar, getting rid of the droplets of alcohol left behind from the previous drink I made. Today had been slow, a regular Tuesday night. Things would start picking up some once it got later, but as of 10 pm, it made sense for it to be dead in the bar.
I heard the door to the bar cling open, a man walking towards the bar confidently. I barely registered him, stepping over to the touch screen to enter his order.
"Hi, what can I get for you?" I asked.
"Just a beer. Corona." The man's deep voice stated.
"Sounds like a good choice." I looked up at him, my eyes widening once I finally took him in. I could spot that face from anywhere. "Colby?"
He smiled meekly, giving a soft laugh. "God, I haven't gone by that in a while."
"Holy shit..." I studied his face; he looked oddly the same, just a bit older. Wrinkles and lines had etched itself kindly into his features, his hair no longer the emo cut he once had, but now pushed back. He had some facial hair, a mustache and goatee, that appeared to be lightly graying. He still dressed like he used to, all black.
"Do I know you from somewhere? Or are you a fan... of me?" He questioned hesitantly, handing me his card to pay for his drink.
"Um, yeah. You could say that." I choked out a laugh, swiping his card. "I used to watch you and Sam all the time back in the youtube days. But I haven't paid attention to you in a while, if I am honest."
"I'm not that interesting, so you didn't miss out on much," he smirked. "But I'm surprised. You look so young, I would have thought you knew me for my music."
"I did listen to your first album. It was a banger." I grinned.
His dimples appeared as he smiled back. "Thank you, thank you. I appreciate that."
I grabbed his Corona from the fridge, popping it open and handing it to him. "What made you stop doing youtube videos? If you don't mind me asking."
He sat down at the bar, cupping the bottle and taking a swig. "Well, me and Sam had a very close encounter with death. So much so, I was a bit freaked out with making content like that anymore. But then we saw the footage we caught, a full on apportion, and we stuck around a bit longer after that. We were all over the news, as proof of actual paranormal, which was actually crazy. But slowly over time, even though we were super successful, it became a bit too much for me. Plus, I wanted to settle down, meet someone. Have a family. And Sam felt the same after a while too. So we just... slowly stopped. Went our own ways."
I leaned towards him, "Are you guys still friends?"
He snickered, "Oh yeah. He literally lives next door to me. We get together every other weekend, or whenever we can, and just hang out in my backyard. Watch the kiddos play."
My jaw dropped at his words, "You have kids?"
"Two. Sam's got three, funny enough. My oldest is about to go into fourth grade. My youngest is in kindergarten." He took another sip, smiling. "It's fucking nuts how time flies."
"That's amazing. I know about the music, but didn't you also do some modeling after youtube as well?" I queried.
"Oh yeah, my very short lived modeling career," he mumbled bashfully. "Personally, while it was fun, I got a lot more of an enjoyment out of music."
I nodded, "What does Sam do now?"
"Well, after youtube, he spent a year traveling. Finding himself. Wrote a book about it, wrote another one the following year. Did a Ted Talk that went viral," he laughed. "Then he went on to do behind the scenes stuff, and now he runs his own management company for celebrities."
I raised an eyebrow, "And then found his wife somewhere in all of that?"
"Yep. Same as me." He closed his eyes, thinking, "I was touring, in the middle of my press run for my album, and I met my wife at a party and I just knew she was the one I wanted to be with forever."
My heart fluttered at his words, "That's really sweet. I'm so glad you got to do all of that."
"Yeah..." His voice trailed off, his eyes fixating on the bar. "At one point in time, I didn't think I would."
I replied, "Because of the close encounter?"
He nodded, picking at the label of his beer.
"What happened that night?" I pressed, lowering my voice.
"Well, um... do you want the story we told or the real one?" He questioned, his eyes growing cold.
"Both, if you're up for it." I challenged.
He sighed, "The story we gave is that I went out on the balcony, caught the woman in white, and almost fell off the balcony because of the railing being shit."
"And that's not what happened?" I questioned, already knowing the answer.
"No. I... was saved." He whispered, "By my guardian angel. And then she left, and I never saw her again."
"Did you want to see her again?" I asked, gazing into his eyes.
"Every night I prayed that she would reappear to me. But she never did. Sometimes I think I went crazy that night." He chuckled, "God knows Sam still to this day doesn't full believe me when I tell him what happened."
I breathed, "The railing was really shitty though. Even an ounce of weight would have cracked it."
"Exactly, exact-" He paused, looking up at me puzzled, "Wait how would you know?"
My voice trembled, "Because... I was there that night, Colby."
He shook his head, laughing bitterly. "No, you're not. You're not her."
"Yes I am, Colby. I'm not lying to you." I rebutted, walking around the bar to him.
He stood up, looking me over. "Right, then what's your name?"
"Y/N. My name is Y/N." I answered.
Colby's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes watering instantly. He whispered, "There's no way."
"I was there that night, Colby. I'm the one that saved you." I swallowed hard, holding back tears. "I'm sorry it took me twenty years to see you again."
"Y/N? Is it really you?" He came up to me, his eyes really taking me in, "You look so... human."
"I am," I laughed. "My punishment for breaking the rules."
He scrunched his face, "You told me you would get reassigned."
"I lied. I didn't want you to feel guilty for my decision." I admitted.
"Who watches over me now?" He questioned.
"Someone good, apparently. Since your life has been working out pretty well for you," I smirked. "I made sure that Vida would care to that."
He raised an eyebrow, "Vida?"
"Sam's guardian angel." I mentioned.
Colby grew quiet for a moment, just staring at me. I could feel my face warm as his stare intensified.
His chest heaved, a kind smile growing on his face. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too." My eyes welled with tears as I embraced him tightly, his arms wrapping around me instantly. We stood for a moment, just holding one another.
He pulled back, his eyes bright. "Sam's gonna owe me so much money now."
I laughed, Colby joining in cheekily.
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bots-and-cons · 4 months ago
Note
How about knockout secretly becoming friends with reader who is under autobot protection?
A/N: I’ve got these HCs about Knockout’s s/o being under autobot protection. This is a bit of a different thing though, and I thought it was different enough to warrant its own post. These ended up kinda long, because I got invested, lol
•You and Knockout met by total accident, when a few off your friends had dragged you to watch an illegal street racing competition
•You had snuck out without telling the bots so they didn’t know where you were, hence none of them were there to stop you from being a bit reckless and having a good time
•Your friends wanted pictures with the cars and when you got close to Knockout, you noticed the small-ish decepticon insignia
•You of course tried to get your friends away from him, because who knows what he might do if he recognized you as one the autobot’s charges
•Knockout honestly hadn’t been paying much attention to what any of the humans who were under the autobot’s protection looked like, so he didn’t realize who you were right away
•Your friends wanted to take a couple of pictures despite your protests
•Knockout of course told them “Watch the paint job, I don’t want any scratches” as they leaned against him to take the pics
•Your friends thought it was just the driver saying it from inside the car, but you knew otherwise
•Your friends went away to the next car, but you marched up to Knockout’s driver side window and started talking to him
•”Why are you here?” you asked him
•”To race, obviously. Why else?” he scoffed
•That’s when he took a better look at you, because you were obviously talking to him like you knew him
•”Oh, you’re one of the autobot’s pets” you could basically hear the smirk in his voice
•”I’m not anyone’s pet you idiot, they’re my friends” you retorted
•Knockout found himself enjoying your banter, but the friend comment made him somewhat jealous, he couldn’t really call any of the decepticons his friends, except for Breakdown
•That’s basically where your friendship begun, you talked for quite a while and before you realized, your friends had left and so had your ride
•”Dammit, I’m gonna have to walk home” you muttered as the crowd kept thinning
•You didn’t know anyone else there, and your friends had left you there, so you started walking
•Knockout didn’t really say anything as you left, but a couple of minutes later, he realized it was quite cold outside and human’s don’t handle it very well or at least that’s what he’d understood
•He didn’t want you to die because of the cold, because that would just invite retribution from the autobots
•It actually wasn’t that cold, but you did live on the other side of town, so you had quite a long way to go
•Knockout didn’t know where you lived, but he drove after you and offered you a ride
•”So you can kidnap me and take me to the Nemesis? No thanks” you told him as he drove slowly next to you
•”I’m not going to kidnap you. I’m just not giddy at the thought of you dying in the cold and us getting blamed for it”
•You stopped walking and considered it for a moment, you really didn’t feel like walking over 5km in the chilly weather, and it looked like it was about to start raining too
•”Fine, you can take me close, but I’m not telling you where I live” you sighed, and hopped into the passenger’s seat
•You gave him directions, as he talked about something or other
•Knockout tends to talk a lot when he’s nervous, so he just kept talking to you
•You laughed at some of his jokes and he also commented how your friends were kinda mean for leaving you there like that
•You couldn’t help but agree, and you started ranting about your friends and the idiotic things they did sometimes
•You didn’t understand why, but he was just so easy to talk to, and you didn’t need to hide your opinions/feelings about your friends from him or hear a lecture or anything like that
•You could just talk, and he would listen and also validate your feelings by telling you your friends were in fact assholes 
•Knockout stopped at the grocery store parking lot that you had guided him to, but even then you continued talking
•”I know this is probably a stupid thing to say, but thanks, I haven’t been able to vent like that in a long while”
•”No problem, it was nice for me too” Knockout admitted
•He had talked about what an aft Megatron was and how badly Starscream treated him, but it was kind of funny how the inner workings of the decepticon leadership reminded you of a high school mean girls clique or something
•You told Knockout you weren’t going to mention this to the autobots, because you didn’t want a lecture and there really wasn’t anything to tell, he hadn’t done anything bad
•Knockout decided to leave you his comm link number (idk how it would work, but I decided it’s like a phone) so you could contact him if you wanted to
•You wrote it down on the notes on your phone and hopped out
•He could see you waving in the rearview mirror as you walked away
•It was the start of a rather odd friendship, which was not without its problems, but you grew to be good friends and confidants
•Of course you had to keep the whole thing hidden from the autobots, the same way Knockout couldn’t tell any of the cons
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