#and there's no one who could hear me scream that would be able to save me

[radio-writes]

I'll go with:

"You win"

"Why should I stay?"

"And what will you do? Run from me?"

It Seems the Devil and I Walked Hand in Hand

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Forced cannibalism, gore, murder, stockholm syndrome

Tags: Alastor x reader, GN reader, yandare, reader goes insane, dead dove do not eat

MDNI

A humid breeze blew through your hair, the putrid stench of Hell carried with it. Somewhere in the distance, something—whatever it may be this time—exploded, prompting usual screams of terror.

But your heart fluttered, eyes fixated on your friend next to you. You sat side by side with them, on a random hilltop the two of you stumbled upon. It was quiet, but barely out of the chaos of the main pentagram. 

"What? What is it?" They laughed as they finally called you out on your staring.

You almost swooned as their warm brown eyes met yours. "You just have the prettiest set of eyes in all of Hell, that's all."

You had been so proud of that. So happy about how smooth you were at the delivery. Giddy about the blush that crept onto your friend's face.

The same warm brown eyes—Hell's prettiest, as Alastor so kindly reminded you—stared back at you now. 

Unseeing.

Without its owner's head anywhere near.

On a plate placed before you.

Your blood felt like ice as you hung your head low. Unable to think. Unable to feel. Unable to breathe, maybe, you weren't really sure anymore.

"Afraid I might have gotten carried away, dear. I was absolutely starving since you stood me up on our lunch meeting." Alastor's tone was as bright and cheerful as it always was—you could almost argue that it was even happier now. "Of course, I did save you their eyes. I knew how much you just loved them."

He continued on, sighing and swooning about this and that. How it had been a while since he had such a satisfying meal. How it was all thanks to you for leading him to it. How he can't wait to meet more of your friends—if you ever managed to make any after the show he put on for you.

But you sat still, mind unable to comprehend what actually sat in front of you. Alastor might as well have been talking from three rooms away for all you heard from him. His voice almost sounding like it came from underwater, barely able to pierce through the fog in your head.

It was only when the demon who sat across from you stabbed a fork through an eyeball on your plate, did your senses come back. Like a flipped switch, you could hear well again, in time to hear the disgusting squish of the organ, blood and fluids spilling as it was stabbed.

"Don't let it go cold now, my dear. I went through so much trouble to get them intact and still warm for you." Alastor smiled as he sat across you.

One of his elbows rested on the table, hand cradling his cheek as you met his gaze. The gleeful, cold red eyes sickened you much more than the gore he held up. He raised the fork to you. Your friend's eye at the end of it. "Say Aaah~"

You pressed your lips together. Whether to resist the cruel torture, or to keep the bile from coming out, you were unsure. 

Like a stubborn child, you shook your head, arms pushing against the table to get up from your seat. Alastor was behind you in seconds, dissolving and rematerializing through shadows faster than you could blink.

"Nuh uh, dearest. We don't waste good food in this Hotel. What would the papers say if they find out we throw away such scarce resource?" He pressed his body against the back of your chair, securing you back at the table with an easy push.

He leaned over your shoulder, long arms reached around you. You stared as his clawed hands planted themselves on the table in front of you, caging you in, framing that horrid plate.

You felt his breath by your ear, that horribly familiar static prickled your skin, before you heard him speak. "You know, I'm starting to think you like how your friends taste."

You swallowed against your dry throat, eyes wide. Every breath you took was shallow as you tried to shake your head only to be met with a mocking laugh.

"No? Come now, why lie, my dear? It's only us here." Alastor leaned closer over you. The heat of his body inescapable. "This is the third friend this month. Even a child would have learned by now." 

"I'm all you need, darling. Everyone else is just cattle." His voice distorted as he spoke, a threat, a promise, you knew from experience that he'd deliver on.

Faintly you could feel the weight of metal around your neck. It wasn't physically there, no. After all, it's been a while since you've given him a reason to summon that chain. But it never really ever felt absent, specially at times like this.

You sighed in resignation, and braced yourself for that familiar horrible taste. Your hands clenched into fists on your lap—a sight that delighted the demon behind you.

"You win." You said softly. Numbly, you parted your lips, mind wandering away as you let Alastor slide the fork into your slack mouth. You ignored what it was you were chewing, letting your body function through the motions as you fought to keep your thoughts else were. 

You felt a large hand pat your head, bringing you back to the present in time to hear Alastor's praise. "What a good pet you make, my dear."

The plate before you was empty now, Alastor's looming figure having retreated away from your shaking one, back in his seat in front of you.

The horrible rotten taste still lingered in your mouth, but you didn't bother to ask for something to wash it away. You simply stood up, ready to run to your room and force yourself to throw up—again.

"Hm? Running from me now, are we?" Alastor's brows raised as he watched you. "Not that you can, I own you, after all." 

You suspected his words were less of a reminder for you, and more on just him loving to say them.

"And why should I stay?" Your words seemed argumentative, but your tone and the hunch of your shoulders were anything but. "I've already finished my punishment."

"I would say it was more of a treat, really. You have no idea how much I wanted to eat those." He laughed, not really minding that you just stared back blankly at him.

"Besides, you've yet to pay me back for leaving me waiting at Rosie's. So come, sit." An invitation to most, an order to you.

So sat you did. You ignored the smudges of blood on the plate still in front of you. You ignored the bitter taste the that lingered in your mouth. You ignored the growing numbness spreading from your chest to the rest of your limbs.

You ignored yourself.

Mindlessly, you nodded along to whatever gossip Alastor had, almost immediately, began sharing with you.

Alastor's hold on you had tightened in the past few months. Not only had he pulled you away from the people at the hotel—you were apparently terribly ill, contagious, but fine under his care—but he had also confiscated your phone and TV.

The window in your room was also simply magicked away. He didn't want you getting any funny ideas of leaving him again, after all.

At first you were fine with it. You had a few books in your room, anyway. But after the first two weeks, you've already finished most of them.

Still, they kept you entertained for a little longer after that; you didn't really mind rereading them—for the fourth time, you think.

But then you had that fight with Alastor. You had asked for your phone back, desperate to know what was going on outside your room. Desperate to listen to your music. Desperate to hear another voice aside from your own.

Alastor merely waved off your concern. He let you keep his radio after all. You could simply listen to him. He talked about current events, and played music, and broadcasted all sorts of screams voices. You didn't need anything else.

He didn't quite take it nicely when you had spat that it wasn't enough.

In the fray that followed, your books were lost. Torn to shreds in seconds.

But no matter, you had thought. You still had some paper, a pencil, some paint. While you weren't the best artist around, you doodled the hours away, anyway. Coloring, sketching, filling out every plain, empty gap on the papers you had.

You were quickly running out of material, though. You'd repeatedly ask Alastor to get you more paper, another pencil, even an eraser, every time he came by. But all he kept saying was that he forgot to fetch some, and that he will surely do so next time.

You were always disappointed, but knew better than to start another fight. You didn't want to risk destroying what little paint you had left, after all.

You had began to doodle on your walls. Counting the little details on the wallpaper, even each and crack along your way. You had drawn everything you ever knew existed; from characters you used to liked when you were alive to a freaking sock on the floor. 

The friends he made you eat.

Hastily covered with a drawing of a deer.

By his next visit, Alastor was appalled by the state of your room. He didn't quite appreciate your vandalism. He promptly snapped his fingers and the walls were replaced. Your drawings gone, the wallpaper gone, even the cracks were gone. It was now just a smooth red surface. 

He had taken away the paint, not that there was much left at that point. You thought it was fair anyway, considering you did draw on the walls like an irresponsible child.

You tried cleaning too, just to keep your mind going, your body moving. But no, no, no. Alastor couldn't have his dear friend, and a valued hotel guest, doing such menial labor. 

He easily cleaned the room for you, not a speck of dust left. Barely any furniture left too—he had found them tacky, apparently.

At that point all you had to look forward to were Alastor's visits. Constant, they were. He insisted he brought you your food personally, of course.

You had been suspicious about what he was feeding you, even once outright questioning what you were eating.

He had laughed. "Unless you made any new friends from this room, I can assure you, you aren't eating any sinners, my dear."

You weren't sure how much his assurance was worth, but food was one of the only two things you actually had here. You didn't feel like giving that up, too.

You hated him. Hated him for keeping you here. Hated him for ignoring all your pleas to be let out.

You hated him, but still found yourself jumping from your bed as soon as you heard the door handle rattle. 

You hated him, but him coming to visit meant you had something to do.

The radio by your bed, and Alastor's frequent visits were all you had left.

The isolation was driving you insane, broken only whenever Alastor wanted to.

Alastor was driving you insane, but without him you were completely isolated.

Your sanity felt like a candle burning at both ends, melting far too fast for you to keep it together. You didn't know anymore which torture you preferred. Alastor's presence or absence?

At least, that was a few weeks back.

Because it wasn't like you needed to choose now.

Your food had been appearing on your side table every meal time, instead of coming in carried by the familiar demon.

The radio beside you had been silent for a long while now. Not one terrified scream, not one jazzy tune, not even empty static. 

And of course, Alastor himself hadn't come in to see you in weeks.

You think it's been weeks, at least. He took the clock with him last time he cleaned.

No, there was no need to pick your poison anymore. Alastor had chosen for you.

At first, you had been bitter. How dare he ignore you—or did he forget about you? God, no, he wouldn't. Right? —how dare he not even check in to see if you were even still alive.

How dare he not visit.

And then, you were worried. It was one thing for him not to pop in on you, another thing entirely to miss his shows. He'd never miss an opportunity to broadcast fear over Pride Ring, but your radio had been quiet this whole time. What was keeping him, then? Was he hurt? Was he okay?

Then, and you think it was the worst of them all, you started to miss him. From the moment you woke from restless slumber, your eyes fixated on the door handle, begging it to turn. Your chest ached, praying to hear his silly staticy voice again, even if it was just senseless gossip.

You felt like screaming, begging, pounding on the door for him to visit you. But you knew he wouldn't like that. No, if the others in the hotel found out, Alastor would likely never visit you ever again. 

So you kept to your bed. Your days spent glaring down at the door in desperation, switching only to the radio to do the same, for hours on end. Every little shift you made, the sheets moving under you, felt so deafeningly loud in the empty room.

It was almost maddening.

"My dear, I have a task for you." Alastor's cheery voice spoke up by your ear.

Your eyes snapped open, greeted by the sight of the demon leaning over your head.

"Nothing too difficult, just a little grocery shopping." He continued on as if he hadn't left you to rot.

You didn't care, nor did you register what his words meant. No, the first thing your body jumped to, your mind went to, was that Alastor was here.

"Al!" The glee in your voice unrestricted as you pushed your sheets away and threw your arms around him. The relief, the absolute refreshment, of feeling another warm body against you again was almost heavenly.

A soft hand patted at your shoulder as he awkwardly stayed there. "Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart." He laughed.

You sat up, eyes wide as you leaned away and took him in. Unmistakably, a very welcomed sight.

He told you about the chore he needed done, truly very simple. Just a literal grocery list. But you held onto every word, every charming staticy syllable falling from his lips as if he was preaching your religion. 

You were determined to memorize it all, not just to complete the task but to simply engrave his voice in your head.

You were so thankful to finally hear something other than your creaky bed. To finally be having a conversation again. To feel human.

It hadn't even click for you that you will finally be heading out.

You were quick in getting the task done, determined to get back to Alastor as fast as you could.

You hadn't notice how your skin thawed in the outside heat compared to the icy room you've been locked in. You hadn't paid mind to everyone's greetings around you. You didn't care for all the flashing lights, and tasty smells, and loud music and laughter and screams around you as finished you little assignment.

You wanted to get things done so you could be by the familiar demon again. His presence almost felt like a drug you've been deprived off for so long, that it physically irked you to be away.

And that's how it was from then on.

You were given a new room at the hotel. Alastor had replaced all the books he destroyed because he just felt so guilty. He had also finally remembered to buy you all those papers and art supplies you asked him to get you. And he had even returned your phone and television to you.

Not that you cared for any of those. You've spent most of your time in Alastor's room anyway, unable to stand a second without hearing his voice. 

You'd cling onto every word he'd say, attentive, obsessed.

Your eye would twitch every time he'd mention someone, anyone. Part of you irritated that he had spent time with someone else other than you. Even more so that he cared enough to remember their name. To say their name.

Soon you not only clung onto his words, but onto him as well. Unable to stand that others spent time with him when you could not. You'd miss meals, miss sleep, drop whatever you were doing to follow him wherever he went. To stay by Alastor's side. 

When he forbade you from doing so, you would follow in secret, or have your own little ways to spy on him. To know what he was doing.

The few times you were away from your owner's side, you could be found standing over a dead sinner. Maybe someone who touched him, maybe someone he mentioned, maybe someone who simply glanced at him for far too long for your liking. Regardless, they were all equally deserving of death in your eyes. How dare they.

Alastor knew of these, of course. And while he was quickly growing suffocated by your constant overbearing presence, he hadn't really bothered to say much.

He still preferred this—this grotesque reflection of his own affections for you—over your defiant little attitude before.

His last straw, however, was now. When you stood over yet another sinner. The light gone from their eyes as you still, repeatedly, shot at their corpse.

The green chain appeared in his clenched fist for the first time in a long while. The collar snapped shut around your neck, but you hadn't even noticed until he gave it a harsh yank.

You were pulled to the side, stumbling over the body by your feet. You looked up, confused, to see Alastor snarling down at you.

"I needed him alive, dear." He said, his annoyance barely kept under control.

"He touched you." You merely replied, as if it was the worst offense, worst sin, in Hell.

"Because we were making a deal, you stupid pest!" Alastor hissed through his teeth, but you merely blinked at him as if you didn't see his point still.

You stood up straighter, keeping your eyes on him. Always on him.

He was so beautiful, so perfect. Everything you needed.

Why had you ever wanted to find anyone more?

"But he still held your hand."

"I'll touch who I want to touch. Do not forget who holds the leash here." His eyes narrowed, chain pulling taught between you.

You smiled at him, loving the way his voice sounded when he was getting angry. It rarely happened now considering how good you were for him, but oh, did it sound like music to you.

Your hands lifted to softly run your hands through the chain by your neck. "You do, of course. I don't question that."

"I need you, Al." You added, soft, almost loving expression on your face as your adored his furious red eyes. "And while I can't force you to stay with me, alone. I can simply just get rid of everyone else. I can be your only one, if I'm the only one left."

"So you've finally flew off the handle, dearest?" His question seemed genuine, not at all in jest.

But you laughed anyway, as if it was the funniest thing ever. "And what if I have?" You grinned at him. "What will you do? Run from me?"

Your fingers gripped the chain suddenly, yanking yourself forward, closer to him. You feel his pull against the chain as well, not to bring you close but simply to keep hold of it. To keep hold of his control over you.

Your eyes lowered, admiring him from up close now. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes was new, and you couldn't wait to see more new things from him now that you're so devastatingly devoted to him.

"You own me, remember? I'm here forever."

#tw: forced cannibalism #tw: murder #tw: stockholm syndrome #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #vien writes #follower event #I told myself I'd keep these ones short and simple #but i do not have much self control #also i am fixated on Alastor's cannibalism right now if you couldn't tell

[eternityofend]

SAVE THE COW

MILK THE MILKMAN.

Pairing: F!Reader x Francis Mosses. (18+)

[ TW ] MINORS DNI 18+

NSFW, Overstimulation, Whimpering, Slight praise kink, Unprotected sex, Riding, Submissive Francis, Dominant Reader, Porn with no Plot, Blowjob, Biting, Kissing/Making out, Aftercare.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, I apologize if it isn't that good.

"Mmm..."

You coo, caressing Francis's face as you kissed him on the nose. How adorable he was for a man who didn't care much for others, merely focusing on his work instead of interacting with others.

You felt special, considering you were the only one he opened up to, the only one he'd talk to without shying away.

But it was only right.

You let out a ghost of a smile as you continue caressing Francis's cheeks with your hands, kissing his neck lightly as you felt him tremble by your touch. Every touch of your lips on his skin sent him vocally expressing just how truly sensitive he was, gripping onto the fabric of your clothes as Francis threw his head back, face redder than scarlet milk.

Francis breathes out heavily, his hand going behind your head to grip onto your hair as you continue to litter kisses on his neck without end.

"[Name]-"

Poor Francis, barely even able to speak out more than one word before suddenly releasing a high pitched moan, gripping tighter on your hair as he was caught by surprise by the bite you left on his neck.

Francis's entire body trembles, but he doesn't tell you to stop.

You lick your lips, leaning your head up as you took Francis's chin in your hand and made him face towards you.

He looks like a puppy because of his teary expression and red cheeks. You sigh, how adorable can this man get?

You take his lips into yours, slipping your arm behind his waist as you hum in content, kissing him with vigorous passion that you knew would make him struggle to get air after.

Francis whines, trying to kiss you back with the same passion you were giving him but the best he could do was open his mouth and let you take control, leaning back on the bed he was on.

"Francis.." You mutter his name, breaking the kiss as he panted, his lungs fighting to get air after making out with you for a minute straight.

Your fingers cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, staring at you in the eyes while panting quietly. You smile, pushing him on the chest, forcing him to lay down on the bed as you crawl on top of him.

"I'll take good care of you." You whisper into his ear, your hand already unbuckling his belt and zipping down his pants.

"[Name].. please-" Francis mutters something with a rasp tone in his voice, gazing at you with such doe eyes that activates a bottomless pit of hunger, of lust, in you.

You pull down the last barrier that covered his dick, your eyes swirling in lust as it leaked pre-cum, the tip flushing a light flustered pink, sensitive to your touch.

"Relax, I'll make you feel good tonight, okay?" You whisper in a gentle tone, already rubbing his dick up and down with your hand, eager to make him orgasm within 5 minutes.

You wanted to break him, hear him scream out your name when he cums.

He was simply just so adorable.

Your pace increases, and you feel the slightest twitch of Francis's dick in your hand as he suddenly whimpers, moaning out words for you to slow down.

"Wait- Wait- Mmmm.. [Name] please- go slow!-" Francis chokes on his words as you did the complete opposite of what he wanted, throwing his head back, his hips thrusted up to match your pace. His eyes rolling back, as the only thing that came out of his mouth were broken moans.

"Haa.. Ha-" Francis grips onto the sheets, letting out a chorus of "Ah, Ah, Haa~" completely letting you know he felt good.

You exhaled, trying to control yourself as you felt yourself get even more aroused just by listening to how lewd his sounds were.

"Shit, fuck.. you drive me crazy." You groan, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, biting on his skin; pumping even faster.

Faster.

More.

You needed to hear more of him.

"Fuck- Cum for me, Francis." You utter, feeling his dick twitch and convulse at your words. Just a second after, you immediately felt warm and sticky cum dropping on your hand as Francis let out a loud moan of your name.

Your eyes blurred with arousal, wanting to break him more.

"[Name].." Francis whispers out, but you shush him before he could say anything else.

You smile, getting on top of him as you pull down your pants. Rubbing your pussy on the tip of his dick as you used his cum to lubricate your insides.

Francis just stares at you, panting. His hand on your back, but he was mostly curious on what you were doing.

"I can help you.. if you wan-" Francis's eyes widen, letting out a sudden moan that cut off his sentence as he felt his dick enter your warm and wet pussy. He gripped hard on your hips, whining in pleasure as he felt your walls tighten even more around his cock.

Francis wasn't even fully in yet but he already felt like cumming again.

"[Name]. [Name]. [Name]. Fuck- fuck.. you feel so good, sugar.." Francis whines, thrusting his whole length inside of you. Moaning in the process of doing so, almost cumming when he felt your pussy clench so hard on his dick.

You pant, wrapping your hands around Francis's neck. Letting yourself rest for a while before raising your hips and dropping down on his dick.

"I'm gonna milk you dry.. Mr. Milkman."

Francis groans at the name, his dick twitching as he imagined you taking every single drop of his seed, he imagined filling you up to the brim.

You ride on Francis's dick at a fast pace, wet slapping echoing throughout the room as skin met skin.

Francis moans, changing his hold to grip onto your ass, his head burying into your neck while you bounced on his cock.

"Sugar.. you're taking me so well." Francis mutters softly, completely in bliss by how good your pussy felt.

You moan, your pussy clenching at his words. Despite him being the bottom this time, he still had a way of making you feel like you were the one being submissive.

A frustrating feeling grows in your stomach, wanting to show Francis that you were supposed to be the dominant one.

You clenched tighter on his dick, increasing your pace as you made sure he completely felt every inch of his dick get swallowed by your pussy.

Francis mutters something under his breath, completely lost in pleasure as he moaned in ecstasy, cumming in you for the second time.

You pant, continuing to ride Francis even if he already orgasmed, you wanted to show him that you were more than capable enough of giving both you and him pleasure.

"Sugar, wait- agh- haa~ slow down.." Francis tapped on your hip, grunting and moaning as he felt your tightness.

You moaned, leaning backwards as you rode Francis as if he was a mechanical bull for you to conquer.

Just a few seconds after, you feel Francis cum another time, whining and whimpering, begging you to stop.

"A little more.." You say, panting. Ignoring the feeling building up in your stomach as you tried to at least make Francis reach another orgasm before you finish.

"Sugar- God, if you don't stop- Ngh~" Francis's voice crumbles, his tone deep but filled with cracks as it was raspy and tired.

"More.."

You feel yourself almost cumming, and you moan. Throwing your head into Francis's neck as you slammed yourself down on him and bit down on his neck.

Francis pulls on your hair, gasping in surprise as he felt your body shake above him, his cock does the same, twitching and pulsing because of how intense you were clenching down on him.

"You're going to kill me one day, Sugar." Francis mumbles, running his hands through your hair as he grabbed a strand and kissed it.

You whine, still not getting off his cock, your body too tired to even move.

"I just missed you.. you've been gone for so long because of work, and you look like you haven't even gotten enough sleep." You complain, caressing his face as you leaned on his shoulder.

The tips of Francis's lips turn upwards, a soft yet baffled chuckle escaping from his mouth.

"Mmmm.. I didn't realize you missed me that much, you should've told me, Sugar.. I would've come home immediately." Francis places a kiss on your forehead, lifting you off his cock as cum dripped from your pussy to his thighs.

Francis puts two fingers inside your pussy, scooping a load of your cum before putting it in his mouth.

A satisfied expression appears on his face as he swallows, pecking you on the lips before saying something that makes you mumble in embarrassment.

"Much better than milk." Francis laughs out, kissing you on the lips with complete gentleness.

"Now let's get you cleaned up.."

You hum, gripping onto him tightly as he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.

Let's just say, you both did much more than just clean yourselves up in the bathroom.

#Francis #francis mosses #smut #female reader #x reader #dom reader #thats not my neighbor #milkman #milkman x reader #francis mosses x reader #francis x reader

[steddiejudas]

STWG Daily Drabble 11/29/23

prompt: modern au

Eddie is harshly woken by his phone ringing at— JESUS christ, 4:30 AM.

The number isn’t saved in his contacts, and normally he would just let it ring or hang up the call so he could go back to sleep, but his brain is a little fried so early in the morning so he answers it like a reflex.

“Hello?” he asks. He can hear the sleep in his own voice and hopes to god this call isn’t something important that his slow, rough voice will make him look bad for.

“Robin!!”

A very loud, very drunk voice screams the name Eddie doesn’t recognize into the line. He lacks the wherewithal to really sus out what’s happening, so he summons every ounce of intelligence to the best of his ability to mutter: “huh?”

“Robbie I’m so drunk and my phone died. The bartender let me use his to call you. come pick me up.”

The guy is whining directly into Eddie’s ear. it should be annoying, should be grating to his sleep-addled brain, but he can’t help but think he sounds cute.

“Uh, hey man, this isn’t Robin. I think you got the wrong number,” Eddie says.

The guy on the other end of the line goes silent, and Eddie imagines he’s pouting over there, probably too drunk to remember he needs to speak into the phone.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay? Are you going to be able to call this Robin person?”

“I did,” the guy whines again. “You’re not Robin.”

“No, I definitely am not. I’m Eddie. And who are you?”

“I’m Steve. Will you please come pick me up?”

He considers this, chuckling lightly to himself. This Steve sure is trusting. Eddie could be a murderer just waiting for a cute boy like Steve to call him up, and he says as much, but apparently all Steve hears is:

“You think I'm cute? Wait, how can you tell? Are you in the walls or something?”

Is he in the walls? Jesus this guy really is ass blasted, huh. And Eddie can’t leave a fellow bad late night decision maker to fend for himself, can he?

“You sound cute enough sweetheart. sit tight, I'll be there in 15 minutes.”

“mmkay!” Steve sounds purely elated to have Eddie on the way, and hangs up before he has the chance to confirm where he is. It’s no matter really, there’s only one bar in the area that’s open this late, and it seems the bartender picked up on that lacking piece of information as his phone pings with a location pin a minute later.

It’s one of Eddie’s usual haunts so he gets there in 10, familiar with the route and aided by the complete lack of traffic at this hour.

He wonders if in the last 10 minutes Steve has forgotten all about him. He is just a stranger he drunk dialed after all, and Steve’s so far gone his short term memory must be nothing at this point.

But when he pulls up and enters the building, he sees the most beautiful face he’s ever seen alone at the bar. He hopes to any god that will listen that Steve at least remembers his enthusiasm about getting home so he can see the way that elation shows on his handsome features. The bartender who’s been babysitting, and appears to be forcing him to drink water, points to the door and Steve turns around, his face alighting with all the brilliance of precious gemstones.

“Eddie!” He shouts, throwing himself off the stool to stumble over to him. He nearly falls to the ground, but Eddie is there to hold him up.

Their faces are inches apart, and Eddie can’t help but notice the way his drunkenness flushes his cheeks, giving the scattering of moles across his cheeks a beautiful backdrop.

“Hey pretty boy. Let’s get you home, okay? Where do you live?”

“With Robin,” Steve says, his face betraying the fact that he really thinks that’s the answer Eddie needs.

“Mhm,” Eddie patiently hums. “And where does Robin live?”

“With me, silly.”

“Oh boy, you’re really out of it. Why don’t I take you back to my place, get some food in you, charge up your phone, and we’ll go from there.”

“Is food the only thing I'll get in me?” Steve asks, pressing in closer to Eddie’s grasp.

It startles a laugh out of him. One that starts deep in his chest and rolls through his body, throwing his head back and shaking his shoulders.

“Steve, you barely know me. You’re just lucky I happen to be a very nice, very respectful guy, who is going to

feed you and nothing. else.”

Steve pouts a little as Eddie puts an arm around his waist and pulls him out to the car, loading him in the passenger seat and buckling him in.

It seems Steve has zoned out on the ride, either lulled by the movements or, god forbid, incredibly carsick. Either way he sits in silence with his face pressed against the cool glass while Eddie lets him be alone with his thoughts for the short drive home.

Getting up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment is a challenge. It’s like Steve is doing his absolute best to go ass over tea kettle down them. Eddie braces himself behind him, hands on his waist to keep him steady, trying his absolute darndest to ignore the lines of hard muscle under his sweater.

Now is NOT the time.

They make it inside with little incident, Eddie plopping Steve down on the couch to disappear into the kitchen after fishing Steve’s phone out of his pocket and plugging it in next to him.

“So, I’m not much of a cook,” Eddie hollers. “But how do you feel about grilled cheese?”

No answer comes.

“Steve?”

Nothing.

Eddie peeks out of the kitchen to find a snoring Steve, sprawled out on the couch like a starfish. Somehow he’s even cuter like this. It brings a fond smile to Eddie’s face as he covers him in a blanket, tucks a pillow under his head and leaves a trash can by his side just in case.

It’s almost 5:30 now, and the exhaustion hits him all at once. Eddie gives the man sawing logs on his couch one last once over before going back to his own bed and crashing, hoping for at least another hour or two of sleep.

When he wakes, it’s with an unexpected sense of excitement, expecting Steve to be on his couch ready to have a coherent conversation and a real introduction, but when he makes his way out to the living room, Steve is gone, his pillow stacked on top of the neatly folded blanket.

He shouldn’t be sad about this. Steve is, after all, just a stranger who was drunk and couldn’t even remember his own address. He was probably embarrassed, confused, hell maybe even scared to be waking up in a stranger’s house with vague memories of how he got there. He tries to focus on that aspect of the situation, rather than his own disappointment. He does not succeed.

Eddie sits down on the couch, in the very same spot Steve laid his head the night before and wraps himself up in the blanket. He buries his face in it, inhaling the faint scent Steve left on it and wonders why he even cares. It wasn’t as if they had some big whirlwind romance in the span of the hour they were together; but Steve was so sweet, so cute, so excited to see him after speaking on the phone for just a couple minutes. It wasn’t anything more than a random act of kindness, but maybe Eddie wanted it to be.

It’s as Eddie is thinking it over that his phone pings with a message. Eddie groans, it’s probably just Gareth, or maybe the bartender from last night checking that everyone is safe. Though even that is wishful thinking. He checks anyway, trying his best to tamp down any wishful thinking until he sees the unknown number on his screen with one simple word.

[463-291-8275]: Thanks.

Eddie feels a lump in his throat, his chest filling up like a balloon. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, doesn’t even know if it is Steve, but shit he fucking hopes so.

[Eddie]: Steve? How did you get my number again?

[463-291-8275]: Uhhh… i definitely didn’t try like 10 variations of Robin’s phone number to find the one number i mistyped when i accidentally called you last night

Eddie frantically adds the number to his contacts before texting back, thanking whatever powers that be for giving him another shot.

[Eddie]: Wow I must have left quite the impression on you Stevie 😏

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: you could say that

Eddie smirks to himself, trying to ignore the blush that warms his face at Steve’s words. He tries to come up with what to say next, how to segue into asking him out on a date, but before he can, his phone buzzes with more messages from Steve.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: so i know this might seem a little strange since we barely talked before i passed out in a drunk heap on your couch

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: thanks for not killing me btw

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: but um would you maybe want to hang out sometime?

Eddie jumps up from the couch, pumping his fist in the air like he just won the lottery. then, like he’s just remembering he lives alone, he yells at no one in particular: “FUCK! YES!” There’s an angry knock on the wall from his neighbor, but he doesn’t care in the slightest.

[Eddie]: idk about that Stevie

He goes to reply in his typical teasing fashion, but Steve’s reply comes in immediately before he can finish the thought.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i totally get it

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: last night was probably weird for you

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: feel free to block my number i’m so sorry

[Eddie]: Woah, slow your roll there big boy!

[Eddie]: I said I'm not so sure about hanging out with you.

[Eddie]: But only because I’d rather take you out on a date

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: Oh!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: date! yes! date is good

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i’d love to go on a date!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: better even

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i was fighting demons trying not to kiss you in the car last night

Eddie has to set his phone down so he doesn’t throw it to the ground and shatter it, opting instead to fist his hands in the pillow Steve used last night and shove it in his face to scream. He has to regain his composure before he texts back, doing his best to keep cool.

[Eddie]: A date it is then. Can’t wait sweetheart ❤️

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #modern au #wowza can you believe i haven’t done a daily prompt in over a month #this one just spoke to me idk

[tyunniez]

tired already?... kuroo x bottom male reader

!!.. amab reader, semi-public sex, kuroo loves to tease, bokuto almost caught the both of them lol, biting and marking, creampie, both characters are 18...

a moan resonated through the empty bathroom. the setting sun outside peeked its way into the many stalls yet the fluorescent lights overpowered it.

" k-kuroo.. finish already! w-what if someone comes in... plus i don't think i can hold myself up anymore! " you whined, trying your hardest to hold yourself up using the stall's door.

meanwhile, kuroo only got more excited at the thought of someone coming in. them being able to hear your slutty moans. how loud you were begging just for some sweet release. maybe kuroo would let them take a peek too.

" hah, bet you would love that right? " kuroo grinned and trusted into you harshly, making you choke a bit on your own spit.

how did you even get here?

" bokuto! " you yelled out at your best friend, him already running and making his way towards you.

kuroo noticed this however it was too late.

before he could even react, you already set the ball towards bokuto who was already mid-jumping. the ball spun in the air, everyone's eyes towards it.

bokuto raised his left hand and winded back his right, preparing to hit said ball. kuroo tried jumping to stop the ball but it was too late.

the moment he began jumping, the ball hit the floor with a loud thud. the sound echoing throughout the audienceless court.

a moment of silence passed by with everyone processing the victory which now belonged to the fukurodani's players.

screams of happiness broke the silence, shaking the empty court. " yeah! let's go! " you screamed out, hugging your sweaty best friends bokuto and akaashi.

the three of you hopped around in happiness after winning the game, your teammates also happily cheering around you.

the nekoma players all congratulated you upon winning the practice match, both players shaking each others hands.

a whistle interrupted you, " yn, nice save earlier! " kuroo, your close friend approached you and sat down next to you.

" oh hey kuroo! thanks heh, you were pretty awesome earlier too! " you compliment him back, sipping the last drop of water in your bottle.

he hums in acknowledgment, appearing tired from the match. " oho what's this? is the great nekoma captain tired already? " your teasing voice earned you a slight jab from him.

" ugh im not tired yet! c'mon, let's go grab some drinks at the vending machine. " kuroo got up first, leaving you to follow him on your own which you did.

your mind wandered off as you trailed behind him, thinking of what to drink to get at the vending machine. what you didn't expect though was you being pulled to the bathroom by kuroo and getting your back blown by him.

" tired already? weren't you the one who was teasing me about being tired earlier. " kuroo laughed at your face as he held you up with both hands, slamming you up and down his cock.

" now look who can't even keep himself up. "

you could only moan while grabbing onto his shoulder, your own cock already leaking and smeared with cum. " i'm close, keep going kuroo..! " you managed to moan out, clenching him harder and harder.

kuroo's cheshire smile stretched itself on his lips, clearly enjoying how dumb you were from his cock alone.

you were so so close to cuming till..

" yn? kuroo? are you here? " bokuto's cheerful voice suddenly echoed in the bathroom, causing you and kuroo to stop your movement entirely.

bokuto looked around the bathroom, shrugging when he found neither you nor kuroo. he decided why not take a quick bathroom break while he was here, completely unaware of what was going on in two stalls next to him.

he sat himself at the first stall, one stall away from him having a front-row seat to hearing you get your ass pounded.

you looked up at kuroo in fear, afraid that even a tiny squeak could make bokuto a bit too curious and start to investigate the sound.

however, kuroo on the other hand looked down at you with a sinister look in his eyes, it being pretty obvious about what he was about to do.

you shook your head at him while covering your mouth to which he turned a blind eye.

he slid you up and slammed you down on his cock harshly, the sound itself making bokuto look around, but the sound that escaped from your mouth was what made him realize what was going on.

a high-pitched moan escaped from your mouth, the sound being an obvious giveaway of what was going on in one of the stalls.

your eyes rolled up to the back of your head at the sudden sensation of being full.

your release immediately came out of your cock. the cum that was seeping out of your ass hole and dripping down onto kuroo's thigh was also just making the situation more messy.

but kuroo wasn't done yet.

he picked up the pace and began thrusting into you, the feeling of your tight walls making him go overdrive.

tears rolled down your face as you tried your best to keep quiet, afraid that your own best friend might hear you getting dicked down.

you buried your face into the crevices of kuroo's neck, bitting and sucking on his neck in an attempt to hush yourself. kuroo on the other hand enjoyed the feeling of your teeth against his skin, leaving mark after mark on him.

bokuto quickly finished his business and rushed out of the bathroom, leaving the both of you alone again.

" mhm.. hahah, you loved almost getting caught by your own best friend, didn't you? " kuroo teased, his relentless thrusting still not finished.

you shook your head while burying deeper into his neck, your tears and saliva soaking kuroo's jersey.

he laughed at you, muttering about how cute you were.

after some hellish rounds, he was finished with his tormenting of you. the both of you walked out of the bathroom with your tracksuit jacket covering the marks all over each other's bodies.

you went back to the almost empty court, trying your hardest not to limp.

" hey hey hey, yn! where were you earlier? " you looked around like a deer caught in headlights upon seeing your two best friends behind you.

" oh uh.. hey! i was just at the store nearby.. " you lied through your teeth, praying that bokuto would buy it.

thankfully he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

he nodded in understanding and began gossiping to you about how he heard some couple getting it on in the bathroom and how awkward it was since he needed to take a shit earlier.

you nodded along, acting as if that couple wasn't you and kuroo.

however, akaashi didn't seem convinced about your lie.

" yn, were you with kuroo earlier? " akaashi suddenly questioned you. your sweat dropped as you tried your hardest to not make any eye contact with either of them.

" huh oh uh yeah.. w-we were just yknow.. eating at the store together. " your voice gradually got quieter the more you talked.

akaashi hummed, as if already knowing what was going on but decided to not pry any further. meanwhile bokuto looked between you and akaashi, trying to figure out why you were so red at the simple question.

" well whatever, im tired and sweaty! let's go home now! " you thanked the world for how dense bokuto was.

you grabbed your stuff and followed behind the two men, already planning to beat the shit out of kuroo for next week's practice.

#tyunniez 🕷 #tyunniez asks 💌 #bottom male reader #bttm male reader #male reader #uke male reader #x male reader #amab reader #male x male smut #male reader smut #kuroo x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #kuroo x reader

[cowyolks]

TO DULL THE SHOVELS & SMOKE

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: In which Simon Riley doesn’t hear the gunshots and yells when he’s around his next door neighbor.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of gore, mentions of torture based on the Ghost comics, drinking, major PTSD.

At first, it annoyed him.

The thin walls of his Manchester apartment blocked absolutely no sound. From one end, near his desolate kitchen, he heard the half-arsed sounds of a couple at all hours of the night. At the other end, nearly midnight on the dot, a bow would pull over strings.

He thought it to be a violin, but the sound was so horrendous and screeching that he couldn’t quite figure it out. Never less, he couldn’t find it in himself to move from the spot on his hard mattress.

It wasn’t like he could sleep anyways.

Gunshots bled into his ears warm and sticky, curses and cries of civilians slammed against his chest and made his eyes feel like sinking weights. Bombs screeched and blinded him, even though he could see the shadows of his wardrobes and chipped wallpaper.

He was there. On the battlefield.

That was until a particularly awful note would catch his ears, digging through all the horrible sounds of war.

It would make the corners of his lips perk up, especially when he heard the gentle curse of the “musician.” He figured horrible orchestral music would do rather than gunshots. He even managed to acquire at least an hour of sleep before he was stirred awake again by the sounds of death.

He’d wake up as he always did. A horrific grunt and a call for his teammates. It was pathetic, but the usual. Simon couldn’t recall the last time he woke up refreshed. He hadn’t slept well in decades, even his childhood was thrashed with harassment from his father who kept him up. He maybe had a couple good nights of rest as a recruit, while his brother and mother were still alive and his father was long gone festering in the hospital with cancer.

Still he was used to the dark circles under his eyes and the constant urge to yawn.

He’d gone about his civilian life as he usually did. Wake up in a sweat, take a cold shower, drink some breakfast tea, and watch the news. That was until three knocks sounded from his door chipping green paint. He had half the mind to ignore it, Simon didn’t know anyone around the area— After all, he was a Ghost. He chewed on his lip, If it was a threat they wouldn’t have knocked. He settled on placing his steaming mug on the wooden side table and huffing to stand. Curiosity won him over as his creaky joints shuffled its way over to the door.

He creaked it open only a couple inches, cautiously glancing around to see no one in the hallway. Scratching his five o’clock shadow, he blinked, feeling slightly paranoid that maybe he was imaging the knocking. That was until his dark eyes settled upon a half open box of what looked to be tea bags.

A note lay scotch taped to the front, written in the most interesting handwriting Simon had seen.

Heard the screams, I won’t pretend to know what it’s like. I figured you wouldn’t want me to pester you, so I’ll save you from the awkward small talk and leave these here. Not sure if you’re a tea person, but they help me sleep.

-your next door neighbor

He couldn’t find himself to move for a short while. His brain clashed in conflicts, as if he couldn’t settle on a single emotion to feel. It swarmed him at once— annoyance, embarrassment, gratitude.

His neighbor had took time out of their day to drop tea off at his door. He tried to think back to when the last time someone had done something genuinely nice for him. Besides his makeshift family of broken soldiers, he couldn’t think of a single occurrence. Zeroing in on the box, a twitch in his nose gave away his reluctance of the flavor. Lavender and Chamomile. So different than his simple breakfast tea.

But, it wouldn’t hurt to try it. Maybe then he’d be able to silently thank the mysterious neighbor for a good night of sleep.

He figured out who you were when he’d exited the shaky and completely unsafe lift onto his floor. In the crook of his arm he carried a brown paper sack full of his weekly groceries. It wasn’t the most fanciful of ingredients, the most extravagant being simple cuts of chicken breasts. He’d shoved the bag further into his grasp, reaching into his dark colored jeans for his room key when he heard your muffled curse.

You were hunched over your doorknob, pulling helplessly on the metal to unlock it. Hurriedly he changed his footfalls, switching from silent to knowingly hitting the creaks in the aged carpet. Your head tilted at the unpleasant noise, eyes widening in embarrassing anticipation.

It took Simon a moment to truly access the situation. It was as if his brain had slammed into a wall, colliding and knocking all of his thoughts astray. When he finally did come to his senses, the only thought he could repeat was— pretty.

Simon would be the first to admit that he had not been around many women in his life. Therefore, he didn’t have much to draw comparisons to—regardless you had to be the most beautifully unique person he had ever seen.

You wore a knitted sweater, likely homemade by the barely noticeable tears of threads and flaws. His eyes filtered down to your jeans, then his attention drew to the absolutely ridiculous socks clad to your feet and ankles. Bright purple, decorated with pink polka dots. He’d glanced up, embarrassingly distracted enough to not be able to listen to your moving lips.

“Hmm?” He grunted, thankful for his black surgical mask that covered half of his face. He felt secure being covered, as if all the bad things couldn’t penetrate through the flimsy material.

“Oh! Sorry for mumbling,” you apologized, which made Simon’s head tilt to the side. Why apologize for his lack of hearing?

You cleared your throat, releasing the doorknob from your hands and instead twisting them together in a nervous habit. It seemed you could hardly sit still, all in the span of thirty seconds Simon caught on to your spastic fingers and tapping foot.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock?” You squeaked, instantly cringing at the horribly put together question.

“Excuse me?” Simon spoke, a hint of surprised amusement coating his tongue. Of course he knew how to break into buildings and pick locks, but you didn’t need to know that.

“I uh, locked myself out of my apartment. I forgot my purse and I keep my keys in there. I was just in a rush for food before my favorite place closes, and well— I’m rambling.” You sputtered, looking like it would be a better option to break through your door than stand under his burning stare.

He didn’t expect himself to extend towards you, settling his bag of groceries on the floor near his door. You slid out the way as he approached, not before he caught a pleasant whiff of lavender and something floral.

Simon shuffled in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a floss pick from the material. Call it his nagging habit, but he hated having shit in his teeth. He wasn’t used to eating or drinking with his balaclava on at work, so on the rare occasions he ate, it absolutely irritated him. Now the floss pick came in handy as he bent the hard plastic to fit into the lock of your door.

He was aware of your stare as he lay crouched, catching the puzzled yet intrigued look from his peripherals.

“Are you some type of cop?” You blurted, making Simon’s lips peek up in a half arsed amusement. A cop? This girl was funny.

“No,”

With a final click, your door creaked open with a whine of its hinges. He rose off the old carpet with a sigh, immediately going back to his groceries so he could be left in his solitude. Then before he could reach down and pick up the bag, your words cut him short.

“Thank you. Um… did you like the tea?” It was a simple question, but not one he was expecting. “It was alright.” He lied, the untouched box still rested on his cold countertops.

“You didn’t like it did you?” You chuckled, reading right through him. All he gave was a shrug of his shoulders, not confirming nor denying. “I knew it. You probably drink your tea black and food bland.” You teased lightheartedly, making an equally playful offended sound fall from Simon’s lips. It occurred to him that he’d smiled more in these last five minutes than he had in a whole year.

“It’s only for mature palates.” He heard himself joke, nearly shocked at his own behavior.

“Sure…” You introduced yourself at last, finally able to have a name to your face. “Simon,” he only thought it fair to state his own. Although it sounded weird coming off his lips instead of the usual introductory Ghost.

“Well Simon, if you’re ever on Bakers Street, there’s a Korean Barbecue place that is delicious. Now that’s real food. I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow since I pulled this stunt. And thanks again!” You smiled, an awkward wave marking your goodbye.

Simon nodded and entered his dark flat, once again drawn into his own mind and the sound of warfare.

He made sure, a few days later to pay you back for your kind words and the disgusting tea. He knocked on your door, hurriedly rushing back to his own and out of sight, hoping the white takeout box of barbecue would make your evening.

He had a particularly rough morning on an autumn rainy day. The chill of the air and racket of raindrops on the window was enough to startle him awake. He was reminded of the cold chill of Russia, as well as the raindrops hitting way too similar to the sound of bullets. It nerved him, nearly taking him several minutes to be able to breathe properly again.

He’d done what his therapist had mentioned, pinpointing colors, sounds, and textures.

Yellowing wallpaper, humming ventilation, scratchy blanket.

Gray clouds, rattling ceiling fan, his own warm skin.

With a sigh, he curled his palm over his eyes, rubbing away the awful reoccurring night terrors, and settling for getting dressed. He wore the simple clothes he always did, black hoodie, jeans, and boots. Simple, yet effective.

He grew rather sick of the walls of his apartment. The plaster suffocated him, the air suddenly too stuffy. For a short moment he was stuck in that coffin again, maggots wriggling at his flesh and the scent of rotten meat flooding his nostrils.

He stood suddenly, attempting to calm himself. He was in Manchester, he was standing. Something he couldn’t do in a coffin. It was a shitty autumn day with rain battering his window sill. He wasn’t in the desert, he wasn’t half dead. He was here.

He let his body lead him out the door with no destination. All his mind happened to scream was out, out, out.

He’d barely been able to grab the door handle and twist, fingers shaking in such a pathetic way it had him wrinkling his nose. He was underwater, shoved into the bucket as they held him under, making him lose his breath and weakly fight.

No he was here. Manchester! In Manchester.

“Simon?”

He was suddenly lifted up, finally able to push the freezing water out of his lungs and suck down oxygen. His head swiveled weakly to you, eyes likely looking dead and cold.

You were dressed warm. A coffee-colored sweater swaddling your form and a burnt orange cardigan hanging from your shoulders as well. You wore typical jeans and slip-ons, but bright orange knitted socks peaked from your jeans. They were even littered with pumpkins and leaves designs. 

He hummed in your acknowledgment, letting himself worry about his breathing once again. Colors, sounds, textures.

Orange Cardigan, your slow breathing, soft knitted socks.

“Are you okay?” You’d squeaked, barely audible over his massive heaving breathes. He instinctively nodded his head, knowing that if he showed any sign of weakness he’d be terminated. That’s how it’s been since he was four years old, being terrified of his father but not being able to express such fear.

“You know, it’s okay to not be okay.” You read right through him. Taking an inching step towards him. He said nothing, still shocked that you hadn’t left in a disgusted manner. He was weak and terrifyingly broken, and yet your sweet gaze never broke into pity.

Orange cardigan, quiet steps, smooth skin against his wrist.

He’d instantly felt relief from the lack of stinging pressure against his palm. Not realizing he’d been digging his nails into the calloused flesh, causing angry red crescents to print into his skin.

“Would you like a tea? I was about to go to the place across the street?”

His mind screeched no. He wanted so badly to be alone. To break something, to laugh as he bloodied his knuckles. He also wanted to shield his too pleasant neighbor from his violent tendencies. To keep her from him, to protect her. But his cold and dead heart managed to thaw and break all in one. The vile organ spoke for him as he found his head bobbing, lungs sucking in a big breath.

“M’kay.” He mumbled, following after your sweet lavender perfume down the lift like a sickly bloodhound.

He’d followed like a shell, hardly memorizing the turns and passing civilians until he was blasted with warm air from a cozy little cafe. He was slammed with comfort instantly, thrown back into the present world instead of the bloodied one he was used to seeing in his mind.

String lights hung above your head, illuminating your warm skin and kind smile. You’d ushered him to sit in the far corner, the leather booth squishy and comfortable. Simon had tuned into the fluttering orchestra of some jazz band, relaxing his bones and tired muscles only slightly.

Golden lights, swaying music, brewing coffee.

He startled when a thick paper cup slid in front of him, the fresh scent of breakfast tea relaxing him further, among with the smiling face blinking at him.

“Got your favorite, bland breakfast tea.” You quipped, taking a sip of your own lavender fruity tea. He let a soft grin cross his lips, pushing the invasive thoughts away while you were with him. “I told you it was an exquisite taste, you drink tea for a child.”

A bubbly laugh escaped you, making Simon freeze in pure awe. He’d never heard something so beautiful, a real authentic laugh. One that he caused.

“You should try it.” You eased, pushing your cup towards him with amusement. Simon’s eyes managed to squint in disgust, glancing down at the odd beverage.

His hand fit around the paper material, warmth meeting his fingers as he brought it carefully up to his scarred lips. The taste was sugary, but floral and rich at the same time. His tongue retreated away, and instantly he swallowed it like it was burning alcohol.

“I don’t like it.”

This tea perfectly matched your personality. Bubbly, overly sweet, and calming like the essence of lavender under his tongue. He’d rather have you than the tea.

“Well what do you like, oh mysterious neighbor?” You chuckled, taking back your tea with a happy grin. His dislike hadn’t irked you at all, instead you seemed more intrigued than before. As if he was enough to quirk your interest.

“Football.”

“Man United?”

He nodded.

“I’m a Liverpool fan.” You sighed, a guilty and mischievous grin passing over your lips.

“That’s more disgusting than that tea!” He growled out, a chuckle breaking through his chest at your lit up face.

“Yeah? What’s your favorite food or drink then? If you’re so quick to bash my tea!” You bickered back, happily noticing his shoulders relaxing and eyes softening.

“One of my Sergeants lives in Glasgow, he frequents at this pub with the best fry up you’d ever eat.”

“Breakfast in a pub?” You questioned, taking a sip of your tea again.

“Best hangover medicine.”

You’d scoffed, hiding your smile between your empty cup. Simon was surprised just how easy it was to talk to you. Here he was, just a man having a tea with a woman. Perhaps even a date? He didn’t have to worry about following orders or barking protocol to privates. Here he could be Simon, the man under the mask and war paint. It was… nice.

“So you’re in the military. That makes sense why I haven’t seen you over the last couple months.” You observed, but didn’t push. You were hanging the metaphorical bait, but he didn’t have to bite it if he didn’t want to.

He nodded, simple enough to confirm, but not enough to feel exposed.

“Well Simon, I have a train to catch. I’m going into Liverpool to see my Mum.” You explained, offering a polite smile.

“Sure.” He mumbled, watching you shuffle to leave the booth. “We should do this again sometime, it was nice to talk to someone besides my cat.” You urged, a laugh encasing your words.

His heart threatened to bounce out of his chest, but he pulled himself together with a subtle pinch to his thigh.

“Sounds nice.”

Dried blood coated his mask and stained his gloves to the point that he had to pull extremely hard to take them off. His shoulders slouched significantly and his eyes grew such large bags under them he could feel his skin sink into his skull. He was tired, exhausted, and needing a warm, long shower.

“Good te’ be back, yeah, L.t.?” Soap threw himself against a bench, groaning as he bent down to untie the laces of his boots. The Scot likely had the same idea as Simon, to shower all this blood off their bodies.

“Sure. Back to morning drills and bland Mess Hall food.” He added in monotone, eyes twinkling in amusement as Soap let out another dramatic groan.

“Oh don’t be like that.” He teased again, constantly pushing Simon out of his dramatic and lone atmosphere. It was nice in ways, how Soap managed to brighten up his day and keep him on his toes.

Speaking of toes, a frown worked its way onto his face as he caught the state of his freshly knitted socks. Dark mud and seeping blood rubbed uncomfortably against his toes, soaking the material of all its purity.

Soap followed his eye line, latching onto the pattern of white ghosts against black knitted material. A chortle escaped him, “Where the bloody hell did ye’ get those?”

“My Neighbor.” He answered shortly, taking note of the crimson color bleeding into the white ghosts.

“D’aw, little gran’ made ye’ some socks?” Soap teased, making the wrong assumption that you were some sweet elderly lady. Simon shook his head, peeling off the socks begrudgingly as he looked forward to his hot shower to warm his bones.

“She’s my age.”

His mind travelled to you. How you’d begged and begged for him to tell you his callsign, bringing up Top Gun of all things.

“Oh my gosh! You need to watch more movies. I can’t believe you don’t know who Tom Cruise is. Top Gun!” Your ecstatic voice carried as you sat in the now familiar booth the two of you shared.

It’s become a common occurrence for him to go out with you on Saturday mornings, sometimes you’d bring your laptop and study for an upcoming test in uni, other times you’d ask him any question under the sun, just to get to know him better. He was comforted by your mindless chatter, even more so when you’d avoid certain topics that made him uncomfortable.

You’d hardly pushed on his childhood or career, that was until you’d thought him traitorous that he’d never seen either of the Top Gun movies.

“Maverick and Goose? Never heard of them?”

“No.” Simon shrugged, sipping on his tea as your eyes sparkled again. “Do you have a callsign?”

His teeth grit at the question as his airway slightly closed. It was dangerous to identify himself off the clock, even more so in a public area. He studied your antsy form, noticing your hips hanging off the booth in curiosity, as well as the soft flesh of your lips pulled between your teeth. How could he ever say no to a creature so effortlessly beautiful?

“Ghost.”

A few days later, a knock on his door startled him from his routine of watching the local broadcasting. He’d approached the door, only to find a black pair of socks with little white ghosts knitted against the seams.

“Is she fit?” Soap found himself asking, a happy grin shining through. Simon was glad for his mask, for when he pictured your smooth skin, beautiful eyes, and stunning frame he could picture no flaws. Fit? That didn’t even begin to describe you.

“You have no idea, mate.”

He’d returned home Christmas Eve, tired and worn from all the flights and jet lagged beyond belief. His muscles were stiff and his heart was heavy. This was always his least favorite time of year.

Horror flashed before his very eyes, usually he’d get away with spending the holidays on base, catching up with his paperwork and training privates a little more to reduce his thoughts of his late family. Instead, Price all but forced him to go home, after a certain Scot let slip that his Lieutenant fancied his own neighbor.

He had nowhere to hide this time. He was home, and at the worst time of the year. Near instantly his nostrils filled with the smell of burnt Christmas ham, charred and ashes by the time he’d opened the front door. But that wasn’t the worst smell, not even close. Coppery tinges of blood clouded his nostrils as his eyes glazed over.

Hidden and reflected off the ornaments on the tree was his family. His poor sweet mother, who’d done so much and tried so hard to raise two boys with an abusive husband— she lay face first on the festive rugs. He’d rushed to her, only to nearly trip over his brother. Tommy’s hand was outstretched, blood trailing as he’d likely tried to crawl to his dead wife.

He couldn’t breathe, sheer panic and despair crawling on him like millions of slippery bugs. He’d vomited all the contents of his stomach as he caught the crib in the corner. Not his little nephew, not little Joseph.

Loud honking from below drew him out of his mind. He’d been standing idly in front of his door, duffel clutched so tightly in his hand he was sure he’d had punctured skin.

White snow, soft violin, warm coat.

Violin?

His feet had already carried him to your door, hand cautiously rapping against the thin wooden material. He knew it was late— hell, it was likely already midnight and Christmas Day. Yet he needed something, he needed to hear your voice and smell the lavender and floral ofyour perfume. He even wanted to see the orange fur of your pet tabby cat.

“Who is it?” Your soft voice carried through the door, successfully halting some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Simon.”

The door cracked open almost immediately, revealing you in red flannel pajamas and sleepy eyes. He’d never felt such a relief as he had just now. Seeing you, your warm smile peeking through all the tiredness.

“You just get back?” You asked, slippered feet already sliding to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle.

“Yes.” He replied, bending low to pat the orange ball of fur dubbed Garfield. The cat mewed happily, even going as far as letting his belly be scratched. He’d missed your eyes curiously glancing at him from behind a cabinet, two mugs clinking as you pulled them out. He’d had the same cloudy eyes and sagged shoulders he always did when he was plagued by bad memories and PTSD.

“I was just about to put on a movie, if you want to sit on the sofa.” You’d suggested, seeping the leaves of his breakfast tea in a fluid motion. Your warm and inviting voice broke him away from thinking of his family, especially when the steaming scent of tea crept up his nose.

“What movie?”

“I was thinking Home Alone, or maybe even The Grinch. Tis’ the season and all that.” You bubbled, taking your own seat against him. He’d stiffened slightly at the mention of the holidays, but his thoughts quickly vanished at the subtle brush of warm skin against his side.

He wasn’t able to breathe properly as you laid your cheek upon his shoulder, right in the dip between his neck and clavicle. But no, it wasn’t the suffocating and violent loss of breath like before, when he thought of war and bloodshed. No, this was a dull ache of his heart, as if telling him that yes, this is where I want to be.

Red Flannel, shifting bodies, soft lips.

“How about we watch Top Gun?” He asked in a whisper, still feeling the absolute sweetness of your lips, the pleasure and love that was you.

You’d single-handedly dulled his pain, silenced the noise, and picked him up on the darkest of his days.

He loved you.

Tag list: @mykneeshurt



#simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you

[cheriladycl01]

Double the Interviews - Oscar Piastri x GreekOlympicTennis! Reader

Plot: WAG duties consist of you literally being in more interviews than Oscar because of your outgoing and bubbly personality.

Credit to lewdo for the GIF

"Y/N can we have a minute of your time please?" an interviewer asks pulling you away from your friend who you look over at. She smiles at you and nods, making her way back to the McLaren garage.

"How are you feeling about the race tomorrow?" he asks and you put a serious face on.

"Yeah, I think the car's got good pace, looking to be in some top positions and I'm excited to see what happens!" you nod and the interviewer holds back their laugh.

"Spoken like a true driver!" he chuckles and you start to laugh as well.

"How are you feeling knowing come summer you'll be competing in the Olympics for Greece in Paris while Oscar is also competing in his own sport?" he asks and you nod, carefully listening to the question to not misunderstand him.

"Yeah of course. You know it's always hard when you have those conflicting schedules especially in athlete relationships. You know I'm still competing in ATP and I have been for a while, and then going into the Olympics on top of that is just immense. I get to travel with my best friend who I've played tennis with since 3 years old but at the same time Osc isn't there all the time. I think that's why today is just so important to me, to be here to support him at his home race!" you smile to the man in front of you who slowly pulls the mic back towards him.

"Will we be seeing Oscar at the Olympics this year?" he asks.

"I think at this stage it's hard to tell, F1 has the longest and busiest schedule to date this year and there's more stress and pressure on the drivers than ever with all the changes taking place ahead of 2025 and 2026, so you know I'd love Oscar to be able to come and see me take home another medal, but again it's one of those moments where you can't be in two places at once!" you explain, knowing he'd already planned to come for your first event of the summer, and would try and stay with you, until it ended for you. But even he didn't know when McLaren would request for him in Woking, or if he'd go home to spend a little needed time with his family.

"Well, I think it's safe to say we are all wishing for Gold for you again this year. Good luck to you and Y/BFF/N who we did see earlier, but dipped away last minute before i could invite her!" he smiles at you, and you smile back.

"You'll see us at the Olympics up at the very top. We promise!" you give the camera a cheesy grin before saying your goodbye's and leaving him to question the next driver who was eagerly waiting behind you.

"There you are!" you hear the Australian accent you knew all to well from your left.

"Hey baby!" you smile, leaning up and placing a soft kiss on Oscar's cheek.

"Saw Y/BFF/N come back without you, when she told me you were stolen for an interview i thought i'd come see if you needed saving" he softly tells you placing a light and gentle hand in your smiling softly down at you.

"Ah, you see baby that is where we are completely and utterly different. I love talking to all your work colleagues!" you say, pulling his hand along so you can both walk back together. You wave at people as you walk past saying small hello's and posing for any camera's you spot in your peripheral.

"You consider the media work colleagues of mine?" he asks with a low laugh that has you cocking your head to one side in question.

"You don't?" you offer back.

"No, my colleagues are my team and the other drivers!" he admits with a blank look on his face that just screams that no cogs are turning up there.

"I mean, you work with the media every time your here. I'd say you work with them, they might not be on your team but they are still apart of your sport!" you admit, he goes to argue but you put a soft finger on his lip.

"Would you consider my ball boy's as my colleagues?" you ask, and he thinks for a second before sighing and nodding.

"There you go then! F1 interviewers are your work colleagues and i like talking to them, they always have very insightful questions!" you smile.

"Insightful or invasive?" he queries looking across at you, brows a little furrowed.

"Damn, you really are a young Kimi Raikkonen. I see what the fans mean now!" you laugh at his expression which quickly tries to change but the frown lines remain.

"God, we need to go back to my mum's for some rest and relaxation" you sigh, starting to massage his wrist and up his arm making him sigh.

"Mmmm, we do I really miss that one dish that she makes us!"

"The Tzatziki with the roasted meat and vegetable kebabs or Moussaka?" you ask looking over at him knowing he enjoyed both.

"Oh! I was thinking of the Moussaka, but the Tzatziki is good. My trainer actually said that it was the perfect mix!" he admitted, still holding that blank expression.

"But he tells you off for the Honey Cake!" you sigh knowing that it was a delicacy you didn't get very often too, being an athlete and all meant that you had to have a very strict diet and couldn't lie to your trainer about cheat days you'd have.

"Okay but that Honey Cake is lethal! You cant stop when you start eating it!" he says before starting to quietly ramble about all his favorite foods as you enter the confides of his driver room away from the public eye.

You cant help but just watch and smile at him, people rarely get to see this funny talkative side of Oscar that could actually out ramble you sometimes which should be near impossible as you were very much a yapper. Especially when you got passionate and would slip in some of you mother tongue without realizing.

"What?, Why are you staring at me?" he asks, after realizing he'd started to rant.

"I just love watching you talk, you nose scrunches when you get passionate about a topic and it's cute" you smile, looking down knowing he'd be a blushing mess.

"Shut up! You are the yapper here, start yapping!" he says, making you burst out laughing while he goes to sit down on the small sofa.

"I'm going to miss you next week!" you sigh as you sit down on his lap where he wraps his arms tightly around you and rests his head in the crook of you neck.

"I know, but I'll come see you at your next tournament after the triple-header!" he smiles, kissing against your neck your body relaxing against his.

"It's just hard, god I'm clingy!" you attempt to laugh the tears away.

"Lando wants to know if you and Y/BFF/N are down for a rematch" he smirks changing the conversation to a more light-hearted one.

"Oh you boys are so on!" you grin.

y/user

Liked by oscarpiastri and landonorris

y/user: Photo Dump from the boyf’s homeland! Love you Australia 🇦🇺

View all 278 comments

oscarpiastri: it was fun playing doubles with you and y/bff/n. Best you next time

landonorris: these guys are kinda good at tennis yo!

-> y/user: does the gold medal mean nothing to you?

-> landonorris: not really :0

-> y/user: well … Osc?

-> oscarpiastri: don’t involve me :(

Your Instagram Story Caption:

Double Trouble in Stralia 🇦🇺

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fic #op81

[neonmoonster]

“Of course I didn’t want you!”

Anakin recoiled like he had been slapped.

The anger he had felt only moments before towards the man in front of him dissipated and reformed into the keenest hurt he had ever experienced.

He had known this, of course—had known it forever, and he had prepared himself for the day the truth finally came out, building walls around his heart and forcing distance between himself and Obi-Wan for this very inevitability—but actually hearing it, actually hearing Obi-Wan say those words aloud? 

Nothing could have prepared Anakin for this moment.

I didn’t want you. 

Obi-Wan was still talking, ranting, but his words seemed far away, distant, like he was standing at the end of a tunnel, miles away from Anakin, who felt lightheaded, unsteady on his feet.

“—ster had just died, the Sith were back, and here was this boy,” Obi-Wan’s voice, tight and forceful, floated in and out of the air, “This boy for whom my master discarded me without a second thought, this boy, who was now my responsibility to raise and train.”

Anakin couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see the resentment in the set of his mouth, the long-buried hatred in the furrow of his brow. 

“My responsibility—me, a barely knighted Jedi, practically a padawan myself.”

Obi-Wan let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, a sharp edge to it that sliced Anakin to his core.

“I could barely take care of myself in the days after Qui-Gon died, let alone another human being. And now I had the duty to fulfill my master’s dying wish to train this boy on the off-chance that he would save the galaxy.” 

Do not cry.

Anakin willed himself to keep looking down, to stay impassive, to not raise Obi-Wan’s ire higher than it already was. If he betrayed how much these words cut him, how deep a wound they inflicted on his heart, then the magnitude of his attachment would be revealed, and that would only make Obi-Wan hate him more. 

And Anakin didn’t think he could take any more of Obi-Wan’s hate.

Do not cry.

He heard Obi-Wan take a steadying breath, audibly reigning himself in. When he spoke next, his voice was softer, yet reverberated through Anakin's mind as if he had screamed them.

“So, no. I did not want you.” 

He sensed Obi-Wan, his accursed, beloved former master, take a step towards him. Anakin stilled, a horrible thought overtaking him.

Would he strike him? Obi-Wan had never—would never—but he had also never said anything like this out loud to Anakin before. He had finally crossed the line.

Done the un-take-back-able.

Anakin had always walked a thin line with Obi-Wan, pushing and prodding, bringing out Obi-Wan’s frustration, his rolled eyes, dry jabs, and sometimes disappointed frown, but he had somehow avoided tipping the scales all the way over—at least, not until now.

Now, when he had finally pushed too far. 

Fuck. 

Do not cry. Do not cry—

A hand fell on his shoulder. It took everything in Anakin not to flinch.

“But don’t you ever think,” Obi-Wan said, the fierce passion back in his voice and Anakin’s stomach sank, sank sank. “Not even for one second, that you were not the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

Anakin’s head snapped up in shock. The very thing he had wanted to avoid doing at all costs, but surely he had misheard, surely Obi-Wan had not just said what he just said—

“You are the best friend I have ever had,” Obi-Wan said, and there was still that hard edge to his words, but now that Anakin was looking at him, he saw that his master's eyes were not filled with anger-hate-bitterness like he had feared, but simple determination.

A serious expression, but one that was interlaced with a gentleness that Anakin could only describe as fond.

“It has been… the honor and delight of my life to teach you,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin couldn’t move because the truth of it was ringing in the Force, unmistakable and passionate and firm. “And now to fight and live beside you as equals.”

Was Anakin dreaming?

A flicker of a smile crossed Obi-Wan’s face, like he was lost in remembrance and, oh, Anakin’s heart couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle this emotional whiplash, his greatest fear and most secret hope come to life over the course of a single conversation.

“It only took you about a day and a half to win me over. I was petrified every day that I would mess you up, leave you worse than I found you, let you down, Qui-Gon down, the galaxy down—but not once did I regret you. Not once would I have traded you away from anything.”

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin shuddered, letting out a choked whimper that he immediately wished he could take back, but Obi-Wan’s eyes softened, and through their bond Anakin could only feel kindness, affection, maybe even—

Obi-Wan's expression shifted once more, for the first time his steadiness in the force wavering, and he swallowed, appearing nervous, if Anakin didn't know any better.

"I do not always find it easy to express myself with words, like this. It is... difficult for me. But it appears that it is necessary today."

Anakin stared at him helplessly.

“I am unbearably sorry that I have ever made you believe otherwise. That you could ever think that you are not my favorite person in the world.”

Anakin could not stop the tear from falling down his cheek. And Obi-Wan Kenobi, high general of the Republic Army, one of the strongest, most respected masters in the Jedi Order, and Anakin's former teacher, gently caught it with the pad of his thumb and wiped it away.

"You are," Obi-Wan's voice came out rough and tinged with something that made Anakin's breath catch in his throat. But then just as quickly, Obi-Wan gave him a small smile, his voice clear once more, even dry and teasing.

“I hope that's alright with you.”

Anakin's answering smile was watery, but it could have lit up the entire galaxy anyhow.

#just a little writing warm up for the day #snippet #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #my post

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

[cheesecakethots]

Part 2

Your mother had described meeting her soulmate, your father, as the most influential moment of her entire life, despite the fact it had been so ordinary.

They had simply been passing each other in a busy marketplace, and happened to brush hands. The static and pull they both felt only meant one thing, and the rest was history.

Your siblings met their soulmates before you, your older brother even having met his as a young child. Maybe that’s why you were chosen, and not them. Maybe that’s why they didn’t fight for you, after all.

The village you live in had a harsh winter, with no crops being able to grow and people starting to freeze to death in their own homes. You had known the village leaders were the superstitious type, but you almost scoffed aloud when they declared the hardships faced must’ve been the work of a vengeful spirit or yokai.

You had been woken up when some of them dragged you out of bed, still in your flimsy old nightgown that did nothing to protect you from the frosty bite to the wind. Your father didn’t intervene, didn’t cry, didn’t do anything as he watched them carry you away. Your mother had broken into sobs when you screamed at her to save you, but still did nothing. Your siblings didn’t even bother to leave their rooms to watch you be hauled off like some livestock on route to a chopping block.

The woods were long and hard to traverse, but it wasn’t long before they had taken you to the centre, using old and frayed rope to tie you by the waist to a thick tree trunk. They didn’t turn back when leaving, didn’t so much as spare you a glance while you screamed and screamed and screamed.

You stopped after ten minutes, instead allowing yourself to cry silently, hoping that you would wake up soon with your parents ready to comfort you, your siblings waiting to laugh off your silly nightmare. No such thing happened.

It’s been about half an hour now. Maybe less. Maybe more. You’re certain at this point that no hungry spirit is going to find you, and instead you’re going to die a slow, cold death, all alone. Well, maybe not slow.

You don’t hear the soft crunches of snow in front of you, too busy staring at your own feet that are starting to go blue.

“Hm, what do we have here?”

Your eyes glance up. For a second you believe that you’re hallucinating, taking note of the clearly wealthy man in a large hat before you, as well as the men in armour situated behind him.

The man raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

Mouth opening and closing, you attempt to splutter out something, but what comes out is a shaky, unsure breath.

He scoffs, moving closer, “Speak up, will you? Or is your throat frozen?”

A cough leaves you, your throat feeling scratchy and dry, but you spit something out nonetheless.

“Th-They l-l-left me h-here,” you stammer, your voice shaking and teeth chattering wildly. Every breath you take feels as though the ropes around your torso are tightening and tightening.

“Who left you here?” He asks, despite the fact that he sounds rather uninterested.

“Th-The village. M-My fa-family. They left me h-here to die,” you whisper, and you’re surprised by the bitterness you somehow have the strength left to conjure. You look up at him, tears still streaming down your face, “H-How cou-could they throw me a-away like that?”

Something in his expression shifts, and he takes another step towards you, head tilting to the side as he considers something.

“Why did they leave you here, then?”

“Sa-Sacrifice to a yokai. T-They thought it w-would s-stop the wi-winter and help the cr-crops grow.”

He chuckles, but there seems to be little amusement in his tone. “How ridiculous.”

You cough again, your body shivering all the more. You’re going to die soon, you know it.

“What would you offer me if I were to save you?”

Hope doesn’t crawl into your veins at his words, instead a dry sob leaves you, “I have n-nothing left to give. Nothing.”

“Not even your gratitude?”

His eyes meet yours once again, and you can’t help but note how very pretty they are, despite the fact you’re on the verge of death.

“I-If you save m-me, I’ll forever be indebted to you.”

“Hm. It’ll have to do.”

The ropes holding you up fall before you can even realise what’s happened, and in turn so do you, landing on your hands and knees, your body quaking violently.

“Up. Otherwise you’ll freeze to death here. Stand up.”

But you can’t. Any apologies you have die on your tongue when he tuts, kneeling in front of you.

He reaches a hand out to roughly pull you up by the wrist, “Archons, I have to do everything aroun-“

His grip on you leaves as fast as it came, and he stumbles back on his feet a little, watching as you peer up at him, eyes wide.

You don’t have much time to consider the consequences of what has just happened, as your body finally gives way, and you collapse into the snow in front of your soulmate.

#will do a part 2 at some point probably #for that one anon that asked me to write for him #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scara #tw close death #tw near death #scaramouche x y/n

[razzle-n-dazzle]

- hi ! 💌,,

ISTG you’re writing is so well done and creative I had to contain myself from like spam!!

I hope you’re still taking request and if you’re not that’s totally cool, I’ll wait ‘till next round.

Adam reincarnates in hell and oh, would you look at that? the s/o is the only one trying to help and not making him feel worse that he already is. (i just need wholesome content, exam week is killing me rn).

AGAIN, love you’re writing thx for reading so far!

ᯓ★ Let's Give This Another Shot (and not fuck it up this time) Sinner! Adam / Sinner! Reader | Drabble

‗ content / trigger warning: fluff, swearing, Adam being Adam, not proof read (we die like Adam) ‗ author's note: this is for everyone who's dealing with exam weeks, it sucks but I believe in all of you any you're going to kill those exams! (don't let them kill you!). Also thank you so much for the compliments Anon <3, I write for the people and myself, so I'm glad everyone is enjoying the crazy shit I've posted here!

ᯓ When you fall from grace, it's not a pleasant feeling; That Adam knew - or at least he thought he knew - well enough from hearing about Lucifer falling, hearing the horrific things the others whispered about it, mentioning it in passing before the thought disappeared and dispelled into the air as though Lucifer had never held a place in Heaven. As though he was nothing that what he was now, demonic figure that wore a crown made out of skeletons and bones fashioned to mimic horns. Adam never cared about the stories that were whispered, about the horrors he sometimes heard through passing, about Sera recalling how she heard Lucifer scream on the way down, about how Michael watched with horror as Lucifer tried to shield Lilith and himself, about how Gabriel heard his pleads and couldn't do anything; No one could save him from the fate that had been weighed on his shoulders as soon as he had fed the apple to Eve. And partly it was because Adam blamed Lucifer for ruining his paradise, for infecting the mind of both his (ex) wives and causing him grief and pain. Dying alone is almost just as unpleasant as falling from grace; almost.

ᯓ You see, while Adam had died alone on Earth, at least his soul went to somewhere pleasant and he was able to continue living; To make a name for himself and, he guessed, make some friends and live a rather worriless and carefree life in the clouds. He was able to have fun, rock out, and be known as the first human soul ever being able to reach Heaven - that was something not even Eve managed to do, and he took it with pride! It was his title. It was partly who he was. Maybe it was all he was. That much became more clear to him when he found himself waking up in Hell again, the stabbing pain of a dagger striking his back still their along with the weight of his wings. At first, he had thought he managed to survive the assassination attempt, that Lute had just left him in Hell on accident or because she thought he was dead. It caused some sort of pride to well in his chest, a flame that sparked his need to go boost and scream at the top of his lungs - he had survived an angelic weapon! He was immune! He was the strongest angel there was, because Sera would totally fall and die in a sad crumble after being stabbed with angelic metal! He was . . .

ᯓ And that's when Adam happened to pass by a mirror, or well more of a reflective glass on the street of Hell (as he walked, not questioning the odd ball looks he got), and that's when he saw it; What looked like a stranger to be staring back at him, engulfing and taking over his reflection like they owned it, like it was there own. That wasn't him! Well, it looked like him, he could admit that, but it wasn't as sexy or as handsome as him! The reflection would copy his movement, snarling as he did and grinning all the same. With his same fluffed up hair and piercing eyes, the reflection wore no mask yet still held the horns of his all the same; Even the way they slowly curled back before dipping down, forming and L for the gold spikes to rest at the end. The reflection wore his exterminator uniform, yet it was the darker version with the yellow having somehow been dulled and deepened and faded out all at once. His wings were still golden, still tucking at his sides from under his arms all the same, though there was no halo to accompany them this time. And Adam almost wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria or maybe it was disbelief, yet he watched to cry and laugh and break the glass all at once; Denying that this was his fate, being unable to stomach that he, First Man Adam, was not only double dead yet in hell. Hell! The first man cannot be in hell, he had created everyone on Earth; All of them came from his nuts and in turn all of them should be praising the fucking land he walked on because if it wasn't for him he wouldn't be here!

ᯓ And yet the Reflection looked back all the same, teasing him with a distorted grin; Like it could feel his distress in the way he curled his fist, pulling back before he slammed it against the glass. It gave a crack, a small one at first, before completely shattering. Adam could care less what shop or business had that glass, he could care less how he effected them or how he was going to be painted in Hell, because this was some crazy mistake! He was not supposed to be down here and he was not going to stand for some stupid mistake that happened because some small crazy bitch decided to back-stab him! Literally! And yet, if Adam wanted any of the answers he so desperately craved, he would have to suck in some of his pride and trudge along to the damn Hotel and talk to the residence who had taken his life. It would take him a while before he accepted such a fate, taking the chance between deciding and doing to walk along the Pride Ring before stumbling into the wrong town and being chased out by crazy demons who wanted to bite him! Maybe even eat him . . . What crazy place is this?!

ᯓ When Adam had begrudging and reluctantly knocked on the new Hotel door, which he would never admit to stopping and marveling at for a second, he would feel that ever irritating dread weigh in his stomach. Who wouldn't feel such a feeling after coming to the front door of a group of people you had tried to exterminate only, Adam didn't know how long, prior! Maybe, silently, somewhere inside Adam knew if he were in their shoes, having faced what they had, he wouldn't accept him either; He would throw him to the curb. Yet, he didn't exactly like that thought, and it wasn't very on brand, so he shoved it down and away and deep until all the could think about is: How in the hell would they not accept me? I'm Adam, I'm the first man! And yet when the door opened, allowing Adam to come face to face with none other than Vaggie, he felt that dread creep in a little. But, not enough to stop him from greeting Vaggie in a less that desirable way, "What's up Vagasaurus?" The sneering comment left his mouth, "I love what you did with the place. You know, it looks slightly less like a destroyed pile of Sh-" Yet the door would only slam in his face before Adam could finish his thoughts or his words; Leaving him standing outside, a tad awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open again. He, also, would never admit giving a glance behind him, making sure no one was standing there to watch him standing in front of the doors.

ᯓ "Vaggie, who was that?" Charlie would call to her girlfriend as she walked away from the door, coming towards where Charlie sat on the floor organizing new activities that everyone could do. All while Nifty rushed around nearby, cleaning Sir Pentious' and Dazzle's memorials in the new Hazbin Hotel. She muttered to herself quietly, not bothering Angel and Husk, who sat at the bar. "No one important." Vaggie would mumble, not being able to catch her tone before it could reveal that it was someone less than desirable. Possibly another sinner choosing a path of redemption after the last extermination! Which the thought caused Charlie to gain a burst of energy, barreling onto her feet so quickly that she knocked around the carefully organized slits of paper on the floor. Vaggie tried to protest, saying it was truly no one at the door and Charlie should just leave it alone! But she was never a really good lair, "Oh calm down Vaggie, I'm sure it's no one bad!" Charlie would grin with a wave, her hand touching the crisp and cool metal of the door handle before swinging the door back open. "Hi, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can I-" And yet her words fell flat as soon as her eyes were locked onto Adam's - who quickly spun around, pretending like he hadn't just been looking behind him - and was also welcomed by his light groan of annoyance. "Oh fuck me." ". . . help you." Charlie's voice flattened, dropping as her eyes widened. You know, she's never felt this shocked to see someone at the steps of the Hotel before since Alastor had came along without warning.

ᯓ "Adam?!"

ᯓ "BITCH CAN YOU NOT SHOUT MY NAME?!" Was the next words that were exclaimed out of the ex-angel, the now outcast, as he seemed rather eager to push Charlie inside of her own Hotel and walk in after; Quickly shutting the door as though there was someone outside waiting and stalking him, watching him with all their attention. "Hey no, you cannot just let yourself in here this isn't Heaven!" Vaggie was swift to march her way over to the two, seeing as Charlie wasn't doing anything to discard of Adam she might as well do it herself! No way was she going to let some two-timing exorcist angel not only push her girlfriend around yet also push his way into the hotel. Who did he think he is? And yet Charlie waved out a hand, stopping Vaggie in her tracks. There was confusion, and the two at the bar would turn their heads, before scowling seeing the fallen angel. Adam was sure he could hear Angel's accented voice loud and clear shouting out, 'oh what the fuck is this bullshit!' before Charlie began to talk to him again in a rushed fashion; One he remembered quite well during the meeting that Lucifer subbed her in for instead of coming to it himself, and he was still annoyed by her voice. "What are you doing down here? I thought you-! You know . . . " Charlie rushed out, trying to make it quick as though the others at the hotel would jump and kill Adam again with no remorse, finishing the job that clearly didn't stay permeant the first time; And, honestly, Adam wouldn't put it above anyone here to do that. Adam, who had been picking at his teeth with his pinkie finger, would turn away from Charlie and shrug his shoulders, "Yeah, well, I fuckin' did and ended up down here for some fucking reason, probably a mistake and mix up of souls. I'm sure you have plenty of those down here, pft!- I mean who else would want to stay in this charity case!-" "We're not entertaining you Adam!" Vaggie would cut off the ex-angel, causing his interest to peak over at her. Though he relaxed quickly enough, maybe too quickly seeing as Vaggie had drown out her own weapon and that . . . nasty little creature stood beside her with the dagger made out of angelic metal; Now that little one-eyed demon could give Adam the creeps, maybe even a little (lot) fright, but not Vaggie. "You know, I thought were all trying to redeem souls in this junk box of yours." Adam scoffed, quickly crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. "Are you fucking discriminating against me wanting to return to where I rightfully belong just because I was an angel before this? Wow, that's a low blow, especially for someone light you." Adam's voice dripped with sarcasm mixed with malice, maybe even still a little pride. "You literally tried killing up like- 2 weeks ago!" Vaggie would gesture to the side, as though trying to compare time to the length of her arm. "Oh shit it's been too weeks?" Adam paused, thinking about it yet drawing a blank and shrugging in result, "Shit, didn't know, pft! That shit must still be fresh for you then, huh? Well, let me remind you all that you weren't the ones who DIED!-"

ᯓ "Adam?" Your voice would slip out into the common space of the lobby of the hotel, honey sweat to Adam's ears; Filling them with a melody that could match the songs of Heaven, running down his spine with the comfort he didn't know he needed until now. But even then, you knew he wouldn't break his 'tough man' exterior until you managed to snag him along, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. "Holy shit, hey Babe!" Adam was quick, rushing past and slightly pushing Charlie out of his way to make his way over to you, over to his love. "What the fuck are you doing in a dumb like this? I thought you said you had your own fucking spot near Cannibal Town!" - It had been the only reason why he had tried traveling to that cursed town, even while knowing its residents might try and take a bite out of him or his wings. He craved for the familiarity of someone in this new world, as he had never felt this vulnerable since his first days on Eden; Earth. God's Earth. "Babe?" A chorus of confused, slightly concerned, and baffled voices followed as Adam came to your side, swinging an arm around your waist and instantly drawing you closer. You swore he was fighting off the urge to flick off the others, a casual fuck you for trying to push him off and out. You could feel their eyes as you leaned up to pepper a kiss into Adam's shoulder, to which he squeezed your waist slightly tighter, adorning a snicker upon his face. "Wait, wait!-" Vaggie started, taking a staggering step forward as her arms laid limp besides her. One of her eyebrows were cocked up, her eyes narrow, "What do you mean Babe?" Your name left her lips, "Don't tell me you're dating that fucker!" She would soon exclaim, tossing her hands out as they finally regained the life they had lost. To which you would turn towards her confused, and then remember oh yeah . . . the battle. The one you hadn't been present for though heard about through Channel 666 News; In all honesty it's why you had came here, to the Hotel, to see if you could try and get to Heaven and find Adam again - praying he didn't actually die but was taken back to Heaven to heal or was revived in some way. "Uh, yeah. Adam's my boyfriend-" You would start with a wavering smile, nerves tugging at the edge of your lips. "Oh, this couldn't have gotten worse." Angel would groan, slamming his head down onto the bar countertop, acting like a disappointed parent; Silently telling you that you could have done better. To which you placed a hand on your hip, about to tell Angel off, only to be cut off by Husk tsking and shaking his head, "I would not put you as an Angel and sexist fucker, but whatever rows your boat." His tone came off dry, uninterested, and a little hostile. And with Charlie's silence, you couldn't help but feel the weight of everyone's words a little heavier.

ᯓ And Adam noticed that, with one glance down at you and your face, his wings would flare defensively and his glare was snapped back at the other demons. He couldn't care less that they had been talking shit about him, he couldn't care less on how they saw him or the reasons they thought you could do better than him; They shouldn't care about whether or not someone was out of their friend's league if they were clearly happy with the person! That, Adam knew - or maybe he believed it more. "Hey, what your fucking mouths!-" He would start, trying to draw you away from the others. Sure, he was no longer an Angel, but he was sure as hell he could take any of them in a fight anyways! And yet, his anger was snuffed like a candle as soon as you placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing in and pushing him back. The breath of ire was caught in his throat, not even being able to reach his lungs, as he glanced down at you, noticing the spark that you had seemingly stolen right out of his chest and placed in your eyes. He knew your reservations of fighting with friends, or with anyone in general, so he couldn't help but feel pride swell up in his chest watching you stand up for yourself, for you and him: "I will not let you speak about me, nor Adam that way!" You defended, shooting a star through your eyelashes that the group; Who seemed just as taken aback as Adam had been before the warmth spread from his chest. Vaggie would scrunch her face, much more concerned that irritated or disappointed, but also all of that at the same time. Your name slipped from her lips, "You can't be serious! He's . . ." She stumbled for a moment, trying to grasp her words, "He's led genocides on Sinners all over Hell! He's like really gross and he doesn't respect people. He's a douche and a dick!-" "Dick master," Adam would correct Vaggie just to piss her off, earning a slight jag in the gut from you and a snarl from Vaggie. Vaggie, who, tossed out her hands once more, yet pointed at Adam this time, "See what I mean?!"

ᯓ "And tell me how you felt when you first lost your divinity?"

ᯓ The question lingered in the room, drifting and sticking in the air, as Vaggie stared at you with disbelief; Her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, and her stance rigid. You noticed how Charlie grew nervous behind her, how she seemed rather uncomfortable in the atmosphere that been created in the room since Adam had arrived than you. She would place a hand on Vaggie's shoulders, attempting to comfort her, yet failed to pick out any words to say in response. "It's hard enough to leave somewhere you've called home," You would continue, frowning, "To be tossed out like you had meant nothing, like one mistake had deemed you unworthy despite everything great you have done in your life. Vaggie! . . . out of everyone, I would have thought at least you would understand something like that." Seeing as she had gone through the same process herself, yet had always had Charlie there by her side to walk through everything with. Was she implying that Adam didn't deserve the same because of what he had done? Sure it was crude and cruel, but everyone deserved another chance to mistake their wrongs and that was what this hotel was about; And you voiced such concerns to not just Vaggie but to Charlie as well. What makes Adam so much different from Lucifer, or say another Fallen Angel that managed to wind up down here? What makes him less worthy to be redeemed? What made him less of a human soul as say Angel or Alastor? Everyone fucks up in their life and as long as they're trying to better themselves, understanding what they did wrong and why it was wrong, they should be given a chance!

ᯓ It wasn't long before Charlie said that everyone should take a break, and as such you would lead Adam away from the crowd of people and up to your own room in the Hotel. You could feel Vaggie's eyes linger, you felt like she wanted to say something yet let her words fall short before they were ever given a chance. But, even if they had, you were too pent up to even discuss anything logically with her at the moment. And you think she could feel or at least tell and that's why her words fell short, yet you would never know - you're not Vaggie nor would you ever think like she does.

ᯓ You and Adam found yourselves in your bed after settling some matters, such as a change of clothing for him and whether or not you wanted to try and make the trip back to your apartment today; Luckily you had some of Adam's old T-shirts and joggers you had stolen from him from one of the few trips where Adam had snuck you into Heaven - and yet on the same note, either of you felt like going downstairs to face anyone to leave to your apartment. So, with not much to do, you set the TV on as background noise and brain fuzz as you snuggled up to Adam's side. You felt as his claws, at first, scratched gently at his side, pairing with a kiss on the forehead, and then they began to tap the flesh there; Like you were some little drum that made no noise, yet Adam continued until he switched to rubbing his thumb against your hip. "What's wrong, Adam?" Concern dripped from your lips, forcing Adam to draw his eyes away from the mindless television and down to meet you, and your eyes. He had known your attention had been up at him for a while, at first admiring his face (as you didn't get to see it much) yet it had shifted to concern the more he played with the plush flesh of your waist. He wondered if you could tell he was nervous from the start. Adam's eyes would falter and glance off to TV again, his words causing a lump in his throat as he tried to play through them; Trying to find the best combination to spew out instead of talking without thinking - vomiting whatever first came to mind and not thinking about it later. And maybe you could tell the trepidations that filled his head too; Seeing as you shifted your position from his side, pushing yourself up, and instead onto his lap, effectively blocking his vision of the television. Your hands rested on his chest, something so natural at this point yet something that still caused Adam's lungs to halt for a minute and for his stomach to flutter. Even so, he would give you a curious glance up and down, trancing the curves of your body with his eyes as he has done countless times before - yet every time, you managed to take his breath away. "If you wanted to fuck, babe, you could have just said so!" The snarky remark left his lips, meeting your amused yet disapproving face. He knew that's not what you wanted, yet he couldn't help but entertain yourself when you were basically straddling his waist; As such, his fingers would drag along the calf of your leg before his hands would trail up your thighs before tailing back down and up once more. He saw the flutter in your breath, yet you tried to keep your composure. Even if Adam was making it ever so hard.

ᯓ "Adam," You would start, your tone causing Adam to stop caressing your thighs. It stuck his eyes to yours, and he couldn't look away no matter how much his nerves pulled at him to. "I want you to know, no matter what happens . . . I'm here for you, okay? We're in this together. You're not a solo act anymore, we're a duet . . . or, well, more a duo act." Your words sunk down into Adam's skin, they infected through his lungs and ran to his heart before infecting all his blood and his veins. His hands, which had ran up to hold your waist, gave a gentle squeeze as he swallowed down the saliva that built up in his suddenly dry mouth. A duo act? Sure, he knew you two were dating, that you had been for a while, yet even then he had a silent thought in the back of his head that you would leave him, much like the others; So he never considered himself no more than what he had: A soloist. First Man Adam! . . . but now he was able to add being 'Yours' to his list with some sort of fire-like confidence; Burning and bright. It made his heart catch fire, even more so when you would stretch out lightly and lean down to lay down on his chest; Your warmth infecting all of him you touched, allowing his arms to wrap around your back and for his wings to fluff out and wrap around your frame. It was like he wanted to shield you from the world, shield you from Heaven, shield you from everyone and anything that wanted to hurt you. Sure he had the urge before, but now? . . . "You heard that big man?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, your teasing smirk had him fighting for a breath. You would playfully nudge his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, I'm stuck with you're, we're stuck together so you better be getting used to it! I'll fight for you, you fight for me, and we'll get back to that stupid place that outcasted you in the first place!" But he would like to stay here, with you, forever. "And we'll show Charlie and Vaggie that it can be done and that even if you fucked up you have a good heart in you! . . . Because I know you do under all the gunk." And your laughter had never sounded so sweet, and you touch has never felt so soft and loving.

ᯓ A duo act, huh? With you? Adam could get used to and stand behind that thought; Perhaps, even after all this time, he wanted nothing more than to hear those words, or well the meaning of those words, from your mouth since the start.

ᯓ But even then, with the emotions that swelled Adam's heart with nothing but pure love, he couldn't help but nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent filled his nose with a warmth he missed, the soft skin of your neck flushed against his smirking lips, a feeling he longed for and couldn't forget. You were perfect, you always had been! "Fuck, Babe, when you say pretty shit like that, it's hard not to fuck you right here and now." Adam would groan before a loud cackle left his lips as soon as you smacked his back. All too used to his ways, you couldn't do much yet shake your head against Adam's shoulder, like a parent scolding their child for saying something offensive. "You ruined the mood Adam!" The huff escaped your lips, it hit Adam's neck and made goosebumps spring up his arms. "Again!" And yet, you didn't protest as Adam tossed you both into your sides with a fever, still cackling as though this was the funniest joke in the world - and you couldn't deny, you loved the sound of his laughter so much. Even as his stubble would tickle your neck as he did so, causing you to start laughing soon after and trying to push his head away from your neck. "Adam! Oh my god, Adam stop that tickles!" You gasped between breaths, struggling to push your boyfriend away as he found joy in your lighthearted misery. Though he would only curl around your frame, not answering your desperate calls of a truce and a stop, and trap you in his arms and wings with no remorse. "You're stuck with me Babe, you said it yourself! Now come here, let me kiss that pretty fucking face of yours until you can't breath!"

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[bigassmoonchild]

Feral

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

The first three parts give context, but aren't required for this read.

Summary: You had your problems with your squad, no different than anyone else running their first. One Alpha, Michael, gave you the most problems, dragging you from leave to punish them all. It didn't take long for him to become your biggest problem, or for Simon to try and take care of him.

Content Tags: Shouting (not w/ between Ghost & Reader), A lot of Anger, Fluff, Protective Ghost, Violence, Fighting, Ghost shows his Face, Non-Sexual Punishments, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: I woke up this morning with over 100 notifications from tumblr, and I've spent all morning trying to think of another part for Maple Syrup. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are wide open <3.

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Ghost could watch you forever. Seeing how you flit around the soldiers, taking care of each of them, barking orders at your own little squad. After being removed from missions, you were able to convince whoever would listen to give you a squad to train, a group of hopeful combat medics.

Sometimes he would find himself watching what you were doing, and he would inch himself close enough to hear what you'd be telling them. Sometimes, it was nothing short of you screaming at them, other times it might be explaining how to stitch someone up. Most times, you sat back and watched as they worked through the exercise that you had created for them.

You were still off on leave, leaving your squad under the hands of Soap and Gaz to train them further on combat situations. Ghost had spoken with them a few times, listening to them rant about the soldiers you had to deal with. Especially one Alpha, who had been demoted from a regular soldier to being entrusted with saving others.

So when Ghost got the first hint of your scent, not the stale one, his head spun to the doors. Your leave was supposed to last another 6 days, not that Ghost was counting, and worry spiked through him. Had something happened? Was everything okay with your family, or did you merely forget one of the gifts you were giving to your nieces and nephews?

When the door slammed open, your eyes gazed across the mess hall. Your brows were furrowed and Ghost could smell the anger lacing your scent, alongside the musty smell of the rain that was coming down. The room had gone silent, everyone looking over at you. Your eyes locked on your squad, body tensed.

"Get the fuck outside," you growled, staring through your squad. They hesitated and your fist slammed into the wall. "Now!" You shouted, watching as they scrambled up and moved. All but the Alpha, who moved leisurely. Your eyes didn't leave his and you pointed. "You move any slower and I'll have you dishonorably discharged for insubordination," the man didn't flinch.

He gave a smile, looking at you. "You're not even a soldier, you have no say in what I do," your muscles relaxed, leaning your head back, eyes falling closed. Ghost stood, moving towards the two of you, opening his mouth to say something.

"You're on my squad, you do as I say, unless you want me to remove you. You want this to be your last strike?" The Alpha looked away, opening his mouth to make a remark.

"I'm sure there isn't going to be a problem, is there?" Ghost finally spoke up, moving beside the man and staring down at him. The Alpha scoffed and walked away, leaving you looking around.

You gave a soft smile. "Leave your stuff, it'll be cleaned up," and you turned and walked away, adjusting a hood onto your head. Ghost stared after you before walking back to Soap and Gaz, sitting beside them again.

"What the hell happened?"

You stood in the rain, having grabbed another jacket to protect you from the chill of the wind, alongside the rain beating against you. Your squad was running until they collapsed or someone admitted who caused the problems. You knew, though, that the stubborn Alpha in your squad was always the problem.

"You need to get back here," Soap said into the phone. "I honestly don't know what to do with them," and you booked a flight.

Now you were waiting, patiently. Someone would give in soon enough, someone always did. There would always be a weak link, and if it took running them until they threw up so be it. A hand fell on your shoulder and you looked back, eyes climbing to find Ghost standing behind you.

"I've never heard you scream," you laughed, looking back to your squad. The Alpha ran at the front of them, no reaction to the amount of running he was doing. You were pretty sure he had lapped everyone at some point, but you weren't paying close enough attention.

You looked back to Ghost. "You have most definitely heard me scream, just not angrily. Soap called, said that the squad was getting out of control and they didn't know what to do," you sighed. "I thought I taught them better, but I guess I haven't treated them exactly like soldiers," Ghost hummed behind you, eyes trailing the Alpha.

A shiver ran through you and Ghost pulled you back into him, letting you soak in his own warmth. "Does he always give you problems?" You nodded, letting him take on your weight as you leaned against him.

"There is rarely a day that goes by when he doesn't give some form of lip, but everyone's grown used to it, I guess," you whispered, sighing deeply. It bothered you, so much, that you couldn't get all of your squad to act like it. Like a pack. "He's just trying to take control back. He was kicked from his last squad because of similar problems, speaking down on Betas and Omegas," Ghosts scent changed a little, but you weren't able to decipher what it was before it had disappeared.

Neither of you spoke for some time, merely watching the group of wanna-be's run around and around. You wanted to be back home, with your family and watching the little ones run around, not some grown adults. You just wanted to be able to control the squad like other people, but you needed a break. So you went on leave, but came back too soon.

There wasn't much of choice, though. Either let Soap and Gaz keep getting eaten alive, or you come back and beat them back down, but maybe if you talked to Simon he would've been able to help. No, this was your squad, they were your responsibility. You'd have to be a Drill Sergeant, and it was already giving you a headache.

You pushed off Ghost, watching as one of the Omegas stumbled before righting herself. You gave a deep sigh. "Get over here!" You shouted over the rain and wind. As everyone gathered, you glared through them. "I am not your mother. I shouldn't be coming back from leave early because your senior officers are unable to control you," you huffed, looking away for a moment.

The rain still pattered down, and the Alpha was looking away. You couldn't decipher how you felt about him, but you knew it was heavy dislike. Something about the man made you uncomfortable.

"You'd expect a group of adults to behave better than a group of pups, but I suppose none of you have grown," the Alpha opened his mouth to speak and Ghost took a step forward, daring him to make a comment. "I haven't been treating you as soldiers, clearly, so from now on you'll be meeting up with Task Force 141 to being your morning training," a smile graced your features.

You'd spoken with Price briefly over the phone on your flight back. It didn't take much to convince him, and his tone gave you the chills once or twice as he described what he could do. You didn't mention anything to Ghost. You weren't entirely sure what he would do if he found out you were being dragged away from your family because of a problem child.

Everything was still in the air, what you would end up doing with them. As you gazed across, the only person not having any form of regret was the Alpha. Michael. If you could, you would have rejected him from being a part of your team. You'd read his file, it was nothing short of infraction after infraction.

You gave a deep breath. "You're going to go into the mess hall and clean it, if I come in there tomorrow and find even a crumb you'll be stuck cleaning it every day until you leave," no one moved. "What are you waiting for?" They scattered into the wind, Michael still taking everything at his own speed.

Ghost grabbed his soldier, eyes not leaving the mans. "You'll be with me," and you watched him get dragged away. You were finally free to take a warm shower, perhaps curl into your nest for some sleep you'd lost while traveling.

It was late in the evening when you heard from Simon. He had walked into your room, taking his boots off and crawling next to you in your nest. His balaclava scratched at your neck as he scented you, brushing his cheek against you.

You turned the page in your book, letting the large Alpha nearly curl around you. Your fingers found the top of his head, scratching at him over the balaclava. Yet to see his face, you never pushed it. It was none of your business to push him, even as his mate.

You could hear him chuffing softly, nose digging into your neck slightly. It was quiet for some time, outside of the chuffing of Simon and the pages turning from your book. His hands were around you, tugging you closer to him as your fingers continued scratching.

The chuffing quieted, a bothered grunt coming from him. "Want to feel your hand," he muttered, tugging at his balaclava before being able to pull it off entirely.

You didn't look, didn't move, just kept on reading as your fingers found hair. That made you pause, brows furrowed as you turned to look at him from where he returned to your neck, his chuffs returning.

Purring, you tugged him to look at you, book falling from your hand. Simon groaned softly, trying to pull his head out of your grip. A quiet be still, coming from you before he paused, eyes opening to glance down at you.

Scars littered his face, your fingers finding some of the larger ones to stroke at, trying to memorize every part of his face. You could see his cheeks growing a little red and you laughed softly, pressing your hands to his cheeks.

"Little embarrassed of being looked at so thoroughly?" Simon looked away, finally pulling out of your grip and hiding his face back against your neck. You could feel him lick you slightly, laying down a nip or two, his hands tugging you against him again.

It was a few moments later that either of you finally said anything. "What did you do with Michael?" Simon huffed against you, a quiet who?, coming from him. "The Alpha you pulled away from the rest of the squad," you added.

Simon pulled away to look at you fully. "Nothing illegal," you looked at him, smile dropping. He gave you a little grin. "Just gave him some things to do to get all of his energy out, he had a little too much to be acting that way," you laughed.

The next morning, you had a knock on your office door. "Come in," it wasn't anyone you would've expected. Not Ghost, nor Soap or Gaz. Michael.

He slammed his hands on your desk and leaned over it. "I want out," you raised your brows. "I'm not gonna let some little doctor think she can control me," you gave out a deep sigh. "And what about Ghost? You fuck him to get where you are?"

"My relationship with the Lieutenant is none of your business, soldier," you answered, crossing your legs. "You want out? You leave this squad and it's the last place you'll be. You know you can't join the military again if you get discharged. Too many infractions," you shrugged, pulling his file out of your desk. He looked at it.

Lunging for it, you pulled it out of his reach. "Who the hell gave that to you?" You laughed at him, his scent changing to something reeking of anger. God, why were you able to smell him? "Or, is it because you're an Omega?" He smiled shortly.

You stood. "You haven't been taking your suppressants as prescribed, have you?" There was no other answer for why he was so angry constantly. Without a consistent dosage, the androstenone in him would be too high to think properly. He could go feral.

Lunging for your phone, you were only able to get one number dialed before he threw it into the wall. "A little Omega bitch, fucking Ghost in order to get where she is," he snorted. The door was cracked open still, but Michael was in the way. There was no leaving.

Looking away, you blinked slowly. "I'm assuming this is how you were removed from your last squad," he threw your chair into the wall and you opened the file.

"You have no right to read that, you bitch," he growled, trying to grab it over your desk. You pulled it back, Michael growling deep in his chest. "You're gonna give me that, or I'm gonna fucking kill you," you could feel your heart in your stomach. Sure, you could fight but it was nothing with an almost feral Alpha trying to kill you.

Glancing around, you had to look for something to hopefully protect yourself with. A man like Michael could easily kill you, you didn't doubt it. One wrong punch and you'd be in the infirmary, another and you could be out of it. Forever.

"You touch her and you'll find out why I'm feared," Simon. You could feel the relief coursing through you. He wouldn't let anything happen to you, let alone allow another Alpha to hurt you. You looked between the two, seeing Michaels face slowly start to drop.

You dove under your desk the second either of them moved, a growl ripping through the area as you heard a body slam into the wall in front of you. You knew the fear on your scent would be pungent, especially to Ghost.

And it was. He could smell it from down the hall, causing a spark of fear to course through himself. The only other thing he could smell was another Alpha, and he hoped to god he wouldn't be too late. When he opened the door just a tad bit more, he heard the threats.

It set something off in him that he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He didn't hesitate before throwing the other Alpha into the wall, seeing you dive under your desk in his peripheral. His fists found the man, but it barely did anything. A feral Alpha would do anything to kill whoever he saw, and Ghost could hear shouts coming from the hall.

Michael charged at Ghost, who braced for impact, colliding with him and being dragged into the hall and on the wall across from your office. Ghosts knee found Michael gut, throwing him onto the ground and climbing over him.

Some MP's had come careening down the hall, guns up and shouting commands. Ghost tried holding the man down, but it didn't do too much before he was bucked off and climbing to his feet. The fear was still pungent on your scent and it set Ghost off.

He couldn't do anything before gunshots echoed down the hall and Michael collapsed. A few tranq darts scattered along his back.

Ghost was put on administrative leave, pending investigation. You'd used the rest of your leave to be able to stay with him and for the entire duration you weren't out of his eyesight.

Showering? He was standing against the far wall, staring through the doorway.

Trying to use the bathroom? The locks on your bathroom doors had never been used more, and when you left he would be standing in front of it.

For some time you had also been far to shaken to let Simon leave your eyesight. There was nothing he would do that you weren't following him for, his showers left you sitting on the counter and talking to him, even without a response. You didn't go into the bathroom with him, but sat by the door as your eyes flittered around to each corner of the room, looking for feral Alphas.

Before either of you became more comfortable, Simon wouldn't even go into your nest. He would sit outside of it, never moving much at all. It took you panicking in the middle of the night for him to start going back inside of your nest.

Neither of you knew what the future would look like, but as long as you had each other, you figured you'd be alright.

Next

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #no use of y/n #canon typical violence #fights #Protective Ghost #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #modern warfare ii #reader insert #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega verse #i got to season 4 #i hope you guys like it #Maple Syrup

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Bonus DP x DC prompt “Star-crossed lovers” to this prompt where Batclan ship “Pitch Pearl”

"Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun." -Juliet (act 3, scene 2)

Red Hood stays in Amity Park to observe the situation after the romantic conflict resolution between Fenton and Phantom.

One day from a rooftop next to the Fenton Works he sees Fenton putting toxic ectoplasm in a bottle on the table, sighing and pouring it into a glass.

The horror of plunging into the Lazarus pit flashes before Jason’s eyes. Who would be crazy enough to want to experience such a thing? And for what?

As a proud bookworm, he could not help but remember the story of Romeo and Juliet at the same moment.

"My only love sprung from my only hate, too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me that I must love my enemy." -Juliet (act 1, scene 5)

Parents who are against relationships and hate the fact that their child’s partner exists? Checked out.

Dead Romeo? Uh, yeah, definitely.

Vial of poison? Freely available in the lab.

There can be only one logical conclusion: Seeing the dead lover, Fenton thinks only about how soon to die himself.

Is Fenton ready to join his lover in the Kingdom of the Dead? He has no guarantee of returning as a ghost, so why risk it?

Jason*runs to save “Juliet”*: I defy you, stars!

~~~~

Needless to say, sleep-deprived Danny is extremely unhappy when a guy in a leather jacket breaks into his house and tries to take his lunch away. 

Both boys panick, scream and absolutely not hear each other.

Jason: Don’t do this! It’s not worth it, there must be another way! 

Danny: Give me my soup back, thief! Take the turkey, it’s going to go bad.

Jason: I am serious.“ Love moderately. Long love doth so.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.” Leave the ectoplasm to the dead ones, boy.

Danny: What a coincidence, I’m already dead deep deep inside.

Jason: Don’t joke, you should talk to a therapist.

Danny: Great idea. Jazz, help! Human in the house! This is not a drill!

Jason:..In general, both of you should talk to the Justice League. They can protect Phantom from your parents, don’t worry. You are not alone. 

~~~~

Fenton, sitting in front of the Justice League.

Flash: So, you and Phantom, how did you decide to start dating?

Danny: Well, what can I say in defense.. "Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty." -Romeo (act 5, scene 3)

Justice League:

Danny: Just kidding. I learned a whole quote for this. Can someone be proud of me, please? 

Batman: Hmmm

Danny: Thanks. And relax, I knew him before he died. Our relationship has always been complicated but we literally can’t exist without each other. So don’t worry about our breakup, it’s unlikely.

Danny: And don’t think I’d kill myself in such a stupid way, it’s boring. You might want to be more concerned about whether or not I’m shocking myself with a Fenton portal than watching my food. My stomach is indestructible, tested by years of ecto-contaminated cooking. But I don’t want to die. All this RIP is a complete lie. Trust me.

Red Hood: You. use to eat. ectoplasm?!

Danny: Yes, it's very nutritious. But you need to develop tolerance to it, otherwise you will be able to try it only once in a lifetime.

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #Jason Todd #red hood

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Alone || Simon “Ghost” Riley ||

A/n: Takes place during the mission Alone, though Ghost took a bullet for you, so you decide to patch him up where both of your feelings slip out.

Prompts Used:

“come on… wake up. please… please wake up”

“ hey, hey… look at me, okay? you gotta get up now. you think you might be able to walk? ‘cause they sent for back-up, and if they find us… we cannot let them find us. understand?”

“i’ll get blood on your shirt…”

[ BANDAGE ]:the sender sits down across from the receiver and begins to bandage their wounds.

" don't you touch her”

" i love you. i... i know this isn't the best time or place but... i do. i love you. "

It had all happened so fast, the gun in your face was something you weren’t expecting from someone who you were working with, someone you tursted.

“Step forward Y/n.”

You tried not to flinch from Graves voice though you were suddenly pulled back, Ghost broad back blocking your view. "don't you touch her” the man snarled.

“You do not want to do this, hand the medic over Ghost.”

Then the situation got worse, Alejandro got captured. You were pushed to the ground as Ghost started to take men out then the next thing you knew you were being carried off.

You were panting from how fast you ran though it finally dawned on you that Ghost was the one by your side. Panicking you watched as the man start to slump forward, you did your best to steady him against the wall of one of the buildings. “Shit! Ghost.” Seeing his eyes closed you started to rationalize what to do. Hand shaking, you slowly reached up pulling his mask off. You did your best to fight the warmth creeping up your face not expecting the man to be so handsome.

“Don’t think about that! He needs you.” Placing your fingers against his neck you felt relief flood through you feeling a pulse. “Thank god.”

Standing up, you glanced around spotting a Military van a few feet away. Once you were sure no one was near by you slowly crept towards the van. Luck being on your side when you found a medic bag. Taking a breath to calm yourself you snatched the bag rushing off to the unconscious man. Kneeling down in front of him, you started to slowly peel off the vest he wore. Blinking back the tears you started to patch the bullet wound, the bullet he took for you. Sniffling you wiped his blood off of your hands. “come on… wake up. please… please wake up”

Hearing a groan, you sat up wanting to hug the man but refrained from doing so. “Ghost?”

“Shit…Y/n.You’re alive? Where the hell.” Placing his hands on his cheek he was surprised not to feel his mask.

“I’m sorry, I had to take it off. I had to make sure you were alive.”

Simon tensed, part of him wanted to yell at you, scream at you asking why you would do such a thing. But then he remembered Graves pointing a gun at you, that he wanted you for something. He hated that feeling, that gut wrenching feeling about the thought of losing you. How could he blame you when you save his life. “It’s fine Y/n. You don’t have to cry on me. Not when you did what you had to do.”

Watching him, you frowned seeing how he was struggling to stand. “hey, hey… look at me, okay? you gotta get up now. you think you might be able to walk? ‘cause they sent for back-up, and if they find us… we cannot let them find us. understand?” The cars were everywhere meaning they were looking for you, for Ghost, for Soap. God you hoped he made it out alive.

Snorting, Simon grabbed an adrenaline shot. Stabbing it in his chest, he shivered quickly standing up. “i’ll get blood on your shirt…”

“I’m more worried about you dying than the blood on my shirt. Now let’s get going alright.”

“Ya! Ya, we gotta head to the church.” Ghost did his best not to slur though it was becoming a problem.

•+•

It felt like hours getting to the church but you were happy knowing that Soap was alive and Ghost seemed to be doing better which helped your anxiety. Nibbling your lip you stepped closer to the man, his eyes were trained on the window for any signs of Soap.

“I….I never thanked you. For saving me Simon…Ghost.” You quickly corrected yourself though you were surprised to hear the man chuckle.

“You do not need to thank me Y/n. I had my reasons, I wasn’t about it let that bastard get his hands on someone I.” Stopping himself, he could feel your gaze on his back.

“Someone you what?”

Sighing, Simon grabbed his mask then lifted it off his face. If he was going to confess his feelings to you he at least wanted to look you in the eyes and do it, to not be Ghost for once. “Y/n.” Working his jaw he did his best to get the words out, he never experienced anything like this so he was unsure on how to act. "I love you. i... i know this isn't the best time or place but... i do. i love you.”

Blinking, you wanted to make sure that you heard him right. You thought you were hearing things, you thought they this had to be a dream. Simon Riley…Ghost. One of the best agents must admitted that he loved you.

“You…love me?”

“Yes! I rather not repeat myself and I -.” Though he was quickly cut off from your lips pressing against his own.

Breaking the kiss, you grabbed his hand still careful, not wanting to hurt him. “I love you to Simon.”

Sighing, a small smile formed on his face as he pressed his head against your own. “Stay close to my side. Ya….I don’t want to lose ya.”

Smiling, you opened your mouth to reply until you heard Soaps voice on the line. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We need to play Graves a little visit.”

Letting out a playful growl, Simon pulled you in for another kiss then placed his mask back on his face. “I do love it when you get angry.”

Tagging:

@redpool

#drabbles #imagines #simon riley x #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern : warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare ii #cod modern warfare #cod mw ii #cod mw 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty 2022 #redpool

[mo0nfairy]

Bro when they remade the game of re4, Leon made me want to just....do anything for him. He's just- so- AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.....You know? And thinking of him as a yandere made me giggle and kicking my feet

part 2. part 3. part 4.

tw :: yandere!leon, obsessive!leon, alcohol, kidnapping, drugging blood, being chained up, insinuations of suicide.

⸺ ommgggg !!! i've been playing the game bit by bit in my free time and im actively going batshit over this man. so here are some of my thoughts……………….

you met leon during the events of RE2 in raccoon city. you ever heard of scary dog privilege? that was basically him with you the entire night. your personal bodyguard, your guard dog. he saved your life over and over and over again until you both practically lost count. however, once you both survived the night and the sun arose, you went your separate ways (much to his dismay). law enforcement and the government were attempting to track down survivors, due to their theories of them having links with umbrella. you had absolutely nothing to do with it, obvi. so, to avoid it all, you vanished. and for 6 long, insufferable years, leon has lived without you. countless therapy sessions, solace in alcohol, and numerous partners who didn’t last longer than a month, nothing could make him forget you.

now (knowing your luck), you just so happen to be one of the missing hikers the police officers speak of in the very beginning of RE4. you were taking a daily stroll through the woods to meditate before you were kidnapped and brought into the los iluminados cult. fortunately for you, you managed to evade being infected. however, you have still spent the last week in sheer misery. running from the village-folk, dodging hidden bear-traps, and scavenging for any crumbs you could consume. you can only dream of the shower you'd take after this nightmare, where you can scrub your skin of the grime, blood, and god knows whatever substances have stained your form. you did befriend a lone wolf, however, so that's a plus!

leon just so happens to be in the same area you're in, only with intentions of saving the president's daughter. he had hoped that by becoming a secret agent, he would be able to manipulate the provided resources and find you. before he knows it, leon soon wakes with a gasp, finding his hands above his head and his wrists chained together. he yanks the chain down, only to hear a quiet voice whisper "hey, quit it!" that voice. leon springs to his feet and turns to verify his suspicions, the sudden movement behind you scaring you into doing the same. he gasps your name in disbelief, before he falls into awed silence while staring at you in complete captivation. you have no fucking idea how much he missed you. all these years of searching for you, dread satiated through him at the possibility of you being dead. leon knows in his heart he would not have the strength to live if you had truly been gone forever. but now, there are no worries. the light of his entire life is alive and by his side! exactly where they belong.

on your end, however, was a complete different story. that night 6 years ago was now an entire blur. umbrella had managed to hunt you down mere days after the event, drugging you with a variety of different remedies. their efforts succeeded and had caused you to almost completely forget that night. your brain has only been able to scrutinize the blood, the death, and the groaning and screaming of undead figures around you. weekly visits with your therapist are helping you disinter forgotten pieces, but leon wasn't present in any of these newfound memories. so, when this stranger whispers your name into the air and stares at you as if you had just descended from heaven itself, you aren’t able to connect the dots.

a smile, one that could rival the sun, breaks out on the face of the mysterious blonde. tears brim in his honeyed gaze. "oh, god. you have no fucking idea how happy i am to finally see you!” holding his hands out, he takes several long strides towards you to engulf you, to where you take several steps away from him.

"who the fuck are you?" his world shatters, "how do you know me? are you the one behind this shit?" your eyes are full of confusion and uncertainty. a major contrast to the look of heroism and gratitude you gazed at him with ages ago.

without another breath, leon pulls the chain towards him, causing you to spring forward. your wrists are tied above your head and your feet are practically dangling off the floor. there are now mere inches in between you and this man. and the look of sheer horror on his face is unforgettable.

"look at me…” his eyes feel like bullets stinging into you, tears spilling down his cheeks. “it- it's me, angel! it’s leon! leon scott kennedy, i worked in the RPD that night 6 years ago.” his breath hits your face as he desperately recounts the worst night of your life. “y/n, i saved your life. and you saved mine. don't you remember?"

leon’s hand cups your face, skin hovering over yours, almost as if he were afraid to fully touch you. his face scrunches up from the sobs racking through his body.

“don’t you know how much i still love you?”

you finally have the revelation that whoever this 'leon scott kennedy' is was with you that night in raccoon city. you also conclude that you are most definitely not getting away from him so easily.

n e ways.... i went wayyyy to overboard with this, but like i said, i've been having some THOUGHTS about re4 and our golden boy. also some other characters too, hehe…………

if you'd like to see more, pls don't be afraid to send some asks in !!

#*sighs dreamily again* #resident evil 4 #re4 #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could I request a reader who is an adult probably scavenging some parts or an ex maintenance worker who rescues Cassie with the help of roxie and Monty who was fixed by the reader.

As the young girl came to her senses, she could only groan in pain, although it was violently cut short when she began coughing due to the surrounding dust.

She then felt a warm liquid trickling down the side of her head, eventually landing on her bottom lip where she tasted iron.

Spitting it out in disgust, she could see it was crimson red.

'What happened to me...?'

Cassie tried to move, but quickly found that her leg was pinned underneath rubble, and above that was a slab of concrete that would be impossible for her to lift up on her own. She still tried to free herself, only to stop when she felt pain.

Her eyes eventually found the smashed maintenance elevator she was thrown out of, her memories becoming clearer. 'That's right...the elevator..'

Soon her gaze fell upon the shattered Roxy-Talkie device that was once her only connection with the outside world.

Her only connection with Gregory.

Or...at least who she thought was Gregory, only for it to be a lie.

And just as the real one managed to contact her and save her from that evil endoskeleton who was mimicking him, he betrayed her by dropping the damn elevator.

"Th-That jerk...!" She coughed. "He-"

'Cassie! Is that you?!"

"Cassie! If you can hear us, hang on!"

Blinking, she turned her head to see a familiar wolf coming to her rescue, alongside an adult who looked like one of the Fazbear technicians.

"R-Roxy.."

"Cassie! Thank goodness. We thought you were a goner.." Relieved, Roxy began shoving aside whatever she could to reach Cassie. From pipes to rocks to metal sheets.

"I-I thought you were, too." The girl shuddered, feeling her tugging on her arms.

But she remained stuck and cried out in pain when Roxy tried pulling her out, to which she immediately let go. "What's wrong? I-Is your leg broken?"

"No. She's just trapped under a giant concrete slab..you're not gonna be able to lift that, Roxy. That means you're up, big guy."

"Leave it to me, boss."

Cassie felt her blood run cold upon hearing the other familiar voice...one that she wishes she didn't hear.

"Grrrah....rrrAHHH!!!"

Within seconds, the slab was lifted, and she was free to look up at whoever saved her.

It was Monty, his upper body now affixed to a glamrock endo's lower half. He loomed over her, teeth gnashed together as he stared back down, looking annoyed. "I can't hold this all da-"

"AHH!! G-GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!" With a scream, she scrambled to her feet despite being in immense pain, determined to get as far away from the monstrous gator that stalked her all night.

She couldn't let him catch her.

Not again.

And so she ran-

Until she crashed into you, nearly knocking you over.

"Cassie! It's alright!" You kneeled down, holding her closely as her panicked breathings kept getting worse--to the point of hyperventilation. "It's okay. He's not gonna hurt you, shhh."

"B-But he's...h-he's...he's....!!!" She struggled to finish.

"Cassie, it's okay. Monty's on our side now. Look."

Hearing the comforting voice of her favorite animatronic, she slowly calmed down enough to look back, seeing Roxy standing there beside Monty, who had dropped the slab.

She blinked several times, confused at why he was so calm now and wasn't trying to chase her. "How did he...? He was in the water, and...I fried him-"

"It seems like you pushed the factory reset button on him," you spoke up. "Whatever you did worked pretty well. He's got his old personality back, although I don't think he remembers what exactly happened.."

Cassie gazed at you. "I-I'm sorry..who are you?"

"[Y/n]." Smiling, you set your hands on her shoulders. "I used to work with your dad, and-"

However, you fell silent when she began sniffling, eyes watering up as her lips trembled, clearly trying to stifle her sobs. You frowned and hugged her closely. "Oh, honey.."

That was all she needed to burst into tears, burying her face into your jacket as the stress of her journey finally came crashing down on her--in the emotional sense, this time.

She had no words to described how hurt and betrayed she felt; all she could do was sob and sob as she clung to you.

Roxy almost ran to comfort her on instinct, but Monty held her back by the arm and shook his head, assuring her that you both needed the space. The last thing she needed was two dangerous-looking animatronics hovering around her.

He knew that very well.

She reluctantly listened, watching as you picked up Cassie and allowed her to hug you around the neck.

"I-I wanna go home.." She hated how pathetic she sounded, though it was the truth.

She was so very tired.

"We'll get you home, I promise." You reassured her. "We found a way out."

"B-But..what about that endo?" Sniffling, she raised her head to look at you, wiping at her smudged makeup. "I-It's still here..what if it gets out, too-?"

"Oh, it ain't going nowhere anytime soon."

Confused, Cassie glanced back at Monty, her eyes widening upon seeing the head of the Mimic in his claws. "My trophy." He grinned from ear-to-ear, before attaching it to his hip.

You chuckled. "He tore that thing up in two seconds flat. It didn't even stand a chance."

"We both kinda ganged up on it." Roxy nudged her bandmate's elbow. "Nobody messes with the Glamrocks..especially us."

"Haha. Got that right!"

"That's good.." Cassie muttered, finally calming down as she realized he was indeed back to his old self, relieved the Mimic was no longer a threat. "But..what about the elevator?"

"It's not our only way up. If I know one thing about this place, it's that we got too many damn stairwells." You huffed. "Fortunately Monty cleared a path to one that was hidden. That's how we got down here and found you."

"Yeah, I did that." The gator boasted. "You guys should be thanking me!"

"We will after we get out of this dump." Roxy reminded him, rolling her nonexistent eyes. "I need to find Gregory so I can....." She paused, feeling as though you're staring at her, before she changed her wording carefully. "....tell him what a bad "friend" he is."

"I'll tell him that myself, too.." Cassie grumbled, resting her head against your shoulder. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah." Nodding, you took out your flashlight. "Let's not stay here any longer than we need to."

#clanask #anonymous #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf sb x reader #fnaf security breach x reader #fnaf ruin x reader #fnaf ruin spoilers #ruined monty #ruined roxy #fnaf cassie #platonic #hurt/comfort

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hobie brown x male!spiderman!reader where they’re “boyfriends” (more like best friends with benefits type thing) from different dimensions and haven’t seen each other in a while due to reader being kind of busy with SM stuff but one day reader shows up to hobies dimension in search of comfort because a canon event caused his older brother to die! Loving your hobie fics btw your whole blog is just good asf😭🫶💞

Here ya go! I hope you like it and I thank you for your kind words, they really mean a lot as I haven’t been feeling that great as of late, so this really made my day.

You felt as though you couldn’t breath, like the breath has been ripped straight out of your lungs, leaving you to struggle in finding fresh, unpolluted air to take in, to revitalise your lungs from the damage they’ve received; But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

Your head and heart were murky with every emotion imaginable trying to overtake each other as your primary feeling whilst your body was screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away because he was already dead before he even hit the ground; reminding you that you could mourn the dead later but as of right now you needed to get to the place you felt safest. But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

So without putting in much thought into anything anymore with your mind so far from reality and your emotions in a state of self destructive chaos, your change of scenery wasn’t brought into question until you heard the familiar sound of a guitar playing before it immediately stopped, only for it to be replaced by the sound of curious footsteps that grew in volume with they’re impending closeness. You knew those footsteps by heart and the type of shoes that made them but knew the male who wore those platforms like the back of your hand; Hobie’s warmth brought you a comfort that couldn’t be recreated nor imitated because even if it was even remotely the slightest bit off, you body naturally rejected it and would indiscreetly crave for the real thing.

For nothing could bring you more comfort, more sense of mind then being in Hobie’s arms.

‘Y/n?’ Even at the sound of his voice had your guarded walls crumbling.

‘Hobie, please tell me that’s you and not some sick trick of the mind.’ You whimpered, clutching the vest that he had left in your dimension between tightly clenched fists, while remaining adamant on keeping your back to him until you were for certain that he was in the room, talking to you, almost as though you were reassuring that deep seeded doubt that he was alive and okay.

In a couple of strides Hobie had his front pressed against your back as his arms cocooned you tightly in a method of preventing you moving away from his hold. ‘Does this feel like me?’ He asked softly, his heart hurting as he watched you instinctively huddled further into his chest until practically all of you was submerged against him. Just as your tears had begun to fall down your cheeks and creating wet patches against his shirt that you were adamant on clinging so desperately to. ‘Oh pretty boy.’ Hobie utters as he tightened his hold on you, allowing you to weep freely without judgment as all he wanted for you to do in that moment was to let it all out in whatever way you found best; whether it was to scream, cry, punch, or otherwise, Hobie would rather you be vocal about you pain rather then subduing it for a later date.

‘My brother died Hobie,’ you wept. ‘he died and I couldn’t save him, I wasn’t fast enough to reach him, I wasn’t strong enough to catch him as he fell, I wasn’t able enough to change anything.’ You gripped his shirt even tighter as you clenched your eyes shut as the imagery of the prior events proceeded to mock you of your biggest failure as Spider-Man as you added in a near inaudible whisper. ‘I don’t deserve to be Spider-Man. He’s meant to save people, not lead them to their deaths.’ Hobie knew that you didn’t meant for him to hear any of the last part but he very much did and felt that it was within his due diligence to remind you of how utterly bullshit that statement was because he’s making damn sure you don’t quit being what you so clearly love.

‘I want you to listen and listen good because I want what I say to you to stick with you so that when you get like this again, you’ll remember your worth and what you’ve always been fighting for; hope.’ Hobie began. ‘You were meant to be Spider-Man as much as I or any other Spider-Person in existence. Miguel’s bullshit has made you think that your value is based on the pain and the suffering we’ve endured and how there’s nothing we can do to combat it once it comes for us again, and again, and again. Forcing you to your knees in grief and sorrow but you want to know what you should do when that happens?’

‘What?’ You asked, removing your face from his chest to look him into his deep eyes with bleary eyes, practically melting into his touch when his hands moved to cup your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks free of tear streaks. ‘Get back up.’ Hobie tells you. ‘Get back up because the fight ain’t over and it’ll never be over if you decide to give up now.’ He then sighs as he presses his head against yours in order to get closer to you. ‘Look I know it’s hard to keep going when they’re no longer here to root for us, to be there for us when we lick our wounds but it’ll only ever feel like that because you actively choose to stop remembering them, to stop honouring their memory within your heart, stop remembering their love and stop seeing them in everything they’ve touched, that’s when you know true loneliness. But your brother is still here,’ Hobie then brought one of your hands and pressed it against your chest to where your heart lied.

‘He’s right here and he will always be here, I will always be here for you in the moments you seemed to have lost your fighting spirit, to loose the willpower to keep going because I’ll happily carry you on my back until you do because that’s what we do, not only as Spider-Men but humans also. It’s practically in our nature.’ Just as Hobie was about to pull his hand off of yours, you were quick to grasp his hand and pulled it back towards you but only to place it over your heart, pressing you own hand atop of his to keep him there. There was a lot you wanted to tell Hobie that could wait until you were in a much better situation but even then you still had a lump in your throat that hindered your ability to speak your mind freely; which never usually happens when you’re with Hobie and it seemed as though he had caught onto this as well as he smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, take your time.’

‘Will you stay with me? Just for a little while longer.’ You finally asked, racked with nervousness and anxiety as you fiddled with his fingers for his response. Hobie’s smile widens as he closed his eyes, brushing his nose against yours all the while making sure to keep you close in his embrace. ‘I’ll stay even long after you’re done needing me because I will always be standing in your corner, pretty boy.’

#hobie brown x male reader #hobie x male reader #spiderpunk x male reader #spiderverse x male reader #spiderman atsv imagine #atsv #spiderman atsv #atsv fic #spiderman: atsv #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv x reader #hobie brown atsv #spiderman atsv fic #atsv x you #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse imagines #atsv hobie #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie brown imagines #hobie x you #astv hobie #hobie brown imagine #spiderpunk x you