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mauesartetc · 7 months

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Redesigning Helluva Beelzebub

Hoo boy, roll up the sleeves for this one.

The Original

In my review of Helluva Boss 108, I mentioned that Beelzebub's character design put me in mind of how some DeviantArt kid's fursona might look. And... Yeah I stand by that statement. The most likely reason I can figure Viv Medrano wanted her to be dog-like was to make a reference to her Die Young music video, which featured an anthro wolf singing a Kesha song (for context, Kesha herself voiced Beelzebub and co-wrote a song for this episode).

But for those who are unaware, Beelzebub's traditional depiction looks nothing like this.

Really the only visual similarities the Helluva version shares with the Infernal Dictionary version are the insect wings, six limbs, and the crown thingy over the head. (At least I think that's a crown-? Kinda hard to tell on both counts.)

Bee's eyes get somewhat more insectoid later in the episode, but that feels like a cop-out. Wow, her eyes and colors changed. Totally a bug demon, right?

They had the same problem in Hazbin Hotel with Katie Killjoy, who's allegedly supposed to be a praying mantis but barely resembles one, even after her transformation.

I understand the desire for fresh takes on old figures, and taking creative liberties so the new interpretation doesn't feel generic. But the changes should at least make sense. By now it's pretty clear Viv couldn't care less about representing Ars Goetia demons faithfully, as demonstrated with Paimon, Andrealphus, and now Beelzebub. You could slap completely different names on these characters and it wouldn't change a thing. I posted this meme a while back but it's never been more relevant:

On top of that, what reason could there possibly be for the design to be this damn complex? Why did she need so many markings on her face? Why did she need so many layers of hair? Why did she need flowing goo for her hair, tail, and body, each requiring dedicated effects animation?

When it comes to a hand-drawn production, less is more. Any superfluous details on a character just make unnecessary work for the animators.

Anyway, here's what Viv has to say about it.

Alright, I'll admit: The lava lamp bit is a little clever. Basically it works as a regular stomach does, but on demonic steroids. But it wouldn't look so much like Viv's making this up as she goes if we'd seen Bee's stomach performing its intended function in the episode. Let her chow down on a giant piece of food (maybe that cotton candy she's been handing out-?) and swallow it, and let Loona (and the audience) see it dissolving in her transparent belly. As a general rule, if it's not shown or explained in the work itself, it's not canon. Like I've said before, Viv: Elaborate on the nuances in the story you're telling, not on social media.

Also, "Her ears are designed after beehives"? Wh...Wha? Ma'am have you ever seen a beehive.

(Hell, even if you told me the ears were inspired by the generic cartoon beehive we're all familiar with, I wouldn't have guessed. There's a difference between being subtle and being vague.)

I can kinda see it in the overall shape, but that's a very specific design inspiration that wasn't clear at all in the design itself. Same with the "animal trainer" thing: I never would have picked up on that if Viv hadn't pointed it out. If a character design doesn't visually convey all the necessary information, it's not a successful design. Show, don't tell. There's a communication breakdown between what Viv's telling us and what Bee's design shows us.

(It's possible she actually meant "Her ears are designed after honeycombs", but even then, each compartment has a specific pentagonal shape that's not coming across at all here.)

I also find it interesting that Bee and Loona have almost the exact same body type. Of course Viv's pretty infamous for samebody syndrome, but it's actually unnerving how similar these two are.

Might this be a reference to Vortex's "type"? Is this foreshadowing a relationship with Loona? Am I overthinking this? Yeah, probably. Viv's demonstrated a clear preference for tall, skinny body types over the years, so it's safer to assume that's the explanation. It's all aesthetics. It ain't that deep. Occam's Razor and all that.

Finally, Bee how the hell does your shirt work.

The Concept

So at this point it seems most logical to lean into the "bee" thing for the redesign, and scrap all the canine elements. As for the blobby hair and tail... yeeeah let's nix those too. We're going for a streamlined version that's easier to animate. And because I ignored the ringmaster look for my redesign of Asmodeus, it only makes sense to do the same for Bee's animal trainer vibe (what little there is) for the sake of consistency. I know this version of Hell has a circus theme with its highest-ranking demons, but there's never been an in-universe explanation for why that is.

Let's look at actual bees, then. A quick peek at Google has informed me that certain insect species have smaller, "simple" eyes (also known as ocelli), in addition to their compound eyes. In bees, this manifests as a triangular grouping of three beady eyes on top of the head.

In her Helluva Boss episode, Bee's full demon form has three eyes, which could be a reference to this triangular arrangement, plus her regular form has two spots on her forehead in addition to the third eye. So it's possible Viv actually did research for something. Pleasantly surprised on that front.

Next, the body. I've noticed that some folks find Bee's skinny body type refreshing, as the sin of gluttony is too often personified with fatness. And that's fair. That's valid. But consider this:

Imagine any Vivziepop character saying that about a chubby person. Imagine the series sending the message that fat people can be sexy too, and that they have worth outside of their appearance, enough for at least one character to consider them girlfriend material. That they're valued and appreciated regardless of this culture's beauty standards (which we know nothing about since the worldbuilding is as thin and flimsy as tissue paper, but whatever). Imagine if this show finally had a fat female character who wasn't relegated to the background. Don't know about y'all, but that would be refreshing to me. And when you take into account all the fat-shaming of a character who isn't even fat, portraying a fat character as attractive would be a nice change of pace for this show.

Now let's talk about clothing. In the episode, Bee's clothes show off a lot of her body, with a cutout crop top and short shorts. We can take a similar approach for the redesign (something that still shows off her chest, belly, and limbs, in keeping with the extroverted "party girl" persona), but that perhaps includes more queenly elements.

The Redesign

Because this is a redesign, many elements were already in place, but I still had to figure out how this character would look as a bee. Here's where the preliminary sketches came in. Lots of trial and error in this process.

Wrestling with this character's face got a lot easier once I realized I could mold it into a pentagonal shape akin to a honeycomb compartment. It took a few tries, but at last, I had a final sketch.

All that was left to do was test out some color combinations.

I tried a few different approaches, but in the end, this is the version I felt worked best.

I used many of the colors from the original, but pushed the orange much harder since orange is the symbolic color of gluttony as a sin. And overall it gives Bee a nice honey-ish look rather than the generic black and yellow we already see on so many bees in cartoons. I thought the colored outlines on her clothing would add a soft, feminine touch, as well.

And just for kicks, here's a quick sketch of her giant form, inspired by the Infernal Dictionary drawing of Beelzebub.

Conclusion

The canon version of this character exists in the form she does for no reason than to stroke her creator's ego. "Hey guys, remember when I animated that Kesha fan video? Remember how cool that was? Wanna see me foist this unnecessarily-complex character design on other animators while I take a victory lap?" I wouldn't mind so much if Viv animated any of this herself, but she didn't. I could almost excuse this if she had no animation experience and didn't know how much work it requires, but she does. The self-aggrandizing entitlement is just off the charts. But a nonsensical design is leagues better than a stolen one, so... brownie points for that, I guess.

#character design #redesign #helluva boss #helluva critical #helluva beelzebub #vivziepop critical #body positivity #long post

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totaly-obsessed · 2 months

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Big Shoes to fill

Leah Williamson x reader request

pt. 1 here

-> Leah invites her struggling sister to live with her in London, where they support each other through healing and new friendships.

-> A very late pt.2. Please let me know what you think of it! If ya'll are interested I could make a pt.3 of reader meeting the team.

-> Just tagging you guys because you asked for a pt.2 in the comments of pt.1: @the-nameless-queen, @the-hottest-avenger-loves-soccer, @abcdefghijklmmopkrstuvwxyz

-> also a very big thank you to @alotofpockets and @greynatomy who read over it for me and helped with ideas - much love!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Leah sat there, stunned by the weight of her sister's words. She had always known that things weren't easy for you, but she never imagined the extent of the struggles you faced. The guilt of not being there for her little sister when she needed her the most washed over the footballer like a tidal wave.

"I'm so sorry, Bug," Leah whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were going through all of this alone."

You shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, ignoring the shame that showed in the redness of your face. "It's okay, Lee. I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

Leah shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "No, it's not okay. I should have been there for you. I should have noticed. I'm supposed to be your big sister, for God's sake."

You reached out and took Leah's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're here now, that's what matters."

Leah sniffled, trying to compose herself. "I promise, things are going to change. I'll talk to Mom and Dad, and we'll figure this out together."

You managed a small smile, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. "Thanks, Lee. "I appreciate it."

Leah pulled you into a tight hug, holding onto you as if she never wanted to let go. "I love you, Bug. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And in that moment, as the rain continued to fall outside, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn't have to face them alone. With Leah by your side, you felt stronger than ever before. And together, you were ready to take on whatever life threw your way.

When she was back in London and your parents were home again, Leah couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily on her shoulders. She knew she couldn't let her sister continue to struggle alone, not when she finally understood the depth of your pain. After numerous conversations with her parents, Leah made a decision.

"Bug, I want you to come live with me in London," Leah said one evening when you were staying with her after watching an Arsenal game, her voice filled with determination.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such a sudden idea. "But what about Mom and Dad? Won't they be worried?"

Leah shook her head. "They understand, they want what's best for you, and right now, that means being with someone who can support you fully."

A mixture of emotions washed over you, uncertainty mingled with relief. The thought of leaving your childhood home was daunting, but the prospect of starting fresh in a new environment with your sister by your side was undeniably appealing.

"I don't know, Leah. What about your life here? Your career?" you asked, concerned about uprooting your sister's life for your sake.

Leah smiled reassuringly. "My career doesn’t need to stop. You're my family, and family comes first. Plus, I could use some company in this big old house of mine."

Unbeknownst to you, she actually wasn’t all that alone in her house, a certain brunette spent most of her time there as well.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the depth of Leah's love and sacrifice for you. "Thank you, Leah. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Leah pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you close. "You'll never have to find out, Bug. We're in this together."

And so, with the support of your parents and the unwavering love of your sister, you packed your bags and prepared to embark on a new chapter in London. As you looked out the window of the car, watching the familiar scenery of your hometown fade into the distance, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead with your sister by your side.

Things were finally looking up.

—

Leah steered her car through the familiar streets of London, eventually turning onto a quieter road lined with rows of cozy houses. The neighborhood exuded a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the bustling city center. As Leah parked the car in the driveway of her quaint home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, you stretched your limbs and took in the familiar surroundings. Leah's house, though not extravagant, emanated a sense of warmth and comfort that immediately put you at ease. The exterior was adorned with climbing ivy and cheerful flower beds, adding a touch of charm to the neighborhood.

With your bags in hand, you followed Leah up the front steps and through the front door. The air inside was filled with the comforting scent of your sister and well-loved furniture that you remember from her old room. The living room greeted you with plush couches arranged around a cozy fireplace, inviting you to sink into their embrace.

It’s surprisingly tidy here, but you could make out two empty cups on the coffee table, an arsenal sweatshirt with a 13 on it, and so many sneakers by the door, that they couldn’t just be Leah’s.

"Here we are," Leah said, turning to you with a smile. "Home sweet home."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of gratitude for the familiar surroundings. "It's perfect, Leah. Thank you for inviting me."

Leah's smile widened as she led you through the house, showing you to your temporary room. The space was simple but inviting, with a comfortable bed and a large window overlooking the lush backyard. Of course, a little goal was set up. Was this even Leah’s home if there was no goal?

—

The first day with Leah was a whirlwind of emotions and new experiences. As you woke up in her cozy home, sunlight filtering through the curtains, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the warmth and comfort of your surroundings. This felt more like home than the place you had grown up in.

Downstairs, Leah greeted you with a warm smile and a hearty breakfast (the only thing she was confidently able to make), eager to show you around her neighborhood and introduce you to her favorite spots. Together, you explored the quaint streets, stopping to chat with neighbors and browse through local shops before getting a snack in a quaint little café.

With a “Lia always takes the croissant, they’re good.”, you had been convinced easily enough. And the Swiss was correct, the croissants were indeed very good.

Throughout the day, Leah made sure you felt right at home, regaling you with stories from her own adventures in the city and sharing her favorite memories of growing up together. With each passing hour, you felt more and more at ease in your sister’s company, grateful for her unwavering support and understanding.

As the day drew to a close, you found yourself curled up on the couch with Leah, sipping hot tea and sharing laughs over stories of her teammates. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your sister, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But it would not be life if things didn't get worse again.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself slipping deeper into the shadows of your own mind. Despite Leah's best efforts to create a loving and supportive environment, the wounds from your past continued to fester, leaving you feeling lost and alone.

Trauma and abandonment issues weighed heavily on your soul, casting a dark shadow over even the brightest moments you shared with your sister. The memories of being ostracized and bullied at school haunted you, triggering waves of anxiety and self-doubt that seemed impossible to overcome.

Leah watched with a heavy heart as you retreated further into yourself, the light in your eyes dimming with each passing day. She tried to offer words of comfort and encouragement, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost in the endless void of your pain.

It hurts to see you suffer, not knowing how to help. So she chose to confront you after talking to Lia in depth about it, not knowing what to do. She ended up seeking a conversation on how to change things, on how to help you. Together, you found a therapist who specializes in childhood trauma and abandonment issues, hoping that they could provide you with the support and guidance you so desperately needed.

As you began your journey towards healing, your sister remained by your side every step of the way, offering a steady hand to hold onto in the darkest of times. Slowly but surely, you started to unravel the tangled web of emotions that had ensnared your heart, finding solace in the love and support of your family.

—

When the new school year started you were deemed well enough to start at the new school. Leah had asked if you wanted to do online school instead, but both your therapist and you didn’t think that to be a good idea.

The transition to a new school was daunting and filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You couldn't shake the memories of past experiences, the taunts and jeers of classmates echoing in your mind like a cruel refrain. But as you stepped into the halls of your new school, you were met with a surprising kindness that took you off guard.

The kids here were different. They didn't make fun of you or hurl insults your way. Instead, they greeted you with smiles and open arms, eager to welcome you into their midst. It was a stark contrast to the hostile environment you had grown accustomed to, and it filled you with a sense of relief and gratitude.

As time went by, you found yourself slowly but surely coming out of your shell, emboldened by the kindness and acceptance of your peers. You made new friends, shared laughs, and discovered a sense of belonging that you had never known before.

Leah watched with pride as you flourished in your new environment, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of your radiant smile. She knew that the road ahead would still be challenging, filled with ups and downs, but she also knew that you were strong enough to face whatever came your way.

When one day you came home telling her all about two new girls you met, she was so ecstatic that she couldn’t help but cry about it to the Swiss brunette who had a permanent spot at your dinner table. The blonde had refrained from taking you to training as of now, leaving you space to breathe and be alone. With that you couldn’t just call Kyra and Alessia your friends and call it a day, you needed your own.

—

After spending weeks bonding with Charlie and Mia, you couldn't wait to introduce them to your sister Leah. One afternoon, you invited them over to Leah's house for a casual hangout, eager to share your newfound friendships with her.

As Charlie and Mia arrived at Leah's doorstep, you greeted them with a smile and led them inside. Leah welcomed them warmly, offering snacks (that you had made) and drinks as the four of you settled into the cozy living room. They wanted to get to know the sister you couldn’t shut up about.

You watched nervously as Charlie and Mia chatted with Leah, hoping that they would hit it off. To your relief, the conversation flowed easily, with laughter filling the room as they exchanged stories and shared jokes.

"So, how did you two meet?" your sister asked, her eyes flickering between them.

Charlie, a vibrant and outgoing girl, grinned and began the story. "Well, Mia and I actually met in our science class. We were paired up for a project, and the rest is history."

Mia nodded, chiming in, "Yeah, Charlie swooped in to save the day when I accidentally mixed up my chemicals. She's been my lab partner and best friend ever since."

Leah chuckled, nodding in understanding. "It sounds like you two make a great team."

You couldn't help but jump in, eager to share your own thoughts. "They really do. Charlie and Mia have been amazing friends to me since I started at this new school."

Leah's eyes softened as she turned her attention to you. "That's wonderful to hear, Bug. I'm so glad you've found some great friends."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for your sister's support, and thanks to your therapy, you were not afraid to tell them. "Yeah, they've been really supportive. And it's nice to have them here with you."

Leah smiled, her gaze shifting between the three of you. "Well, you're all welcome here anytime. It's nice to see you so happy, Bug."

—

A couple of days later Leah came home from training to you making dinner in the kitchen. Instead of sitting down or waiting she stood in the doorway joking about your apron. Conversation in the middle of doing something was always the best.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly among you, Leah's eyes sparkled with an idea. "You know, Bug, my teammates have been asking about you. They've heard so much about my little sister and they're dying to meet you."

Your heart skipped a beat at Leah's suggestion. Meeting Leah's teammates felt like a significant step, a symbol of how far you'd come since arriving in London. The thought both excited and intimidated you.

Leah must have noticed the mix of emotions flickering across your face because she quickly added, "But only if you're comfortable with it. I don't want to pressure you into anything."

She knew that you had talked to most of them before. But it had always been brief and at the side of the pitch, signing a shirt for you and taking a picture. Aside from Lia, who had been at the house just the evening prior.

You took a moment to consider Leah's offer, the warmth of her support comforting you. With a newfound sense of confidence, you nodded eagerly. "I'd love to meet them, Leah. It sounds like fun."

Leah's smile widened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. "Great! I'll arrange a get-together with the team. I know they'll love you just as much as I do."

Meeting her teammates felt like the next natural step in your journey of growth and self-discovery, and you were ready to embrace it with open arms.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #woso community #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

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amoristt · 9 months

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anon: can you write a ghost x reader fic about y/n being wrongfully accused of being a spy and she makes a run for it and ghost finds her? YESSSS . LOVE ITTTT

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - wanna tip me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

- Heavy footsteps, the air thick, the wall in front of you even thicker. Never did you think that beige wallpaper would be such an obstacle in your way as the echoing sound of footsteps gain on you. The door is shut tight, but the room is still under construction and lacks any furniture to help barricade you in. There isn't even a fucking closet for you to hide in. The only thing other than light brown plank flooring and a door with a half-painted white frame, was a window overlooking a yard.

It was roughly a five-story drop- too high to continue your run unscathed, but at this point, you've got some pretty heavy options to weigh. On one hand, potentially cut your life short, on the other, get caught and dragged out fighting.

Not that it would be much of a fight. You didn't even have time to grab your gun or knife before you made your escape.

Your heart aches. This wasn't right. While you weren't sure what dirt Shepherd had on you, what documents had been falsified as evidence of your alleged 'treason', but whatever they were they must have been pretty damn convincing to have Graves up in arms almost instantaneously. Tears bite at your eyes- had been since you first ran, but now they were heavier. Angrier. You wipe them harshly and red blotches bubble at your cheeks.

Shaking, you bring your radio to your lips. You can't hear them, but they can surely hear you, switched to a different station so you couldn't use their chatter to work around them.

"Please," you damn near sob. "Please, there's a mistake. There's been a fucking mistake, I haven't done anything. You really think I'd do this to you guys of all people?"

Grave answers your pleads like a poison, settling deep into your lungs, replacing all the air in its wake.

"Enough running. Come out and no one has to get hurt."

There was no use in arguing, you realized. They would never hear of it- not the people that truly mattered when it came to imprisonment, anyways. Even if you could convince your humble squad of your innocence, it would never hold up in the end. Besides that, by the way Graves spoke to you, the way he had looked at you, like you were a fucking bug that needed squashing, told you all you needed to know when it came to fighting against Shepherd's allegations.

You knew, ultimately, that running wasn't going to exactly help your case, but you didn't know what else to do. It felt like everyone had turned against you in a moment. You hadn't even had time to process anything. One moment you were joking with your crew, and Graves scampered off the take a rather important call.

Shepherd, was all he had said before disappearing.

And god, when he came back, red-faced and tense, the accusations poured.

Soap tried to defend you. Ghost fought to question, to figure out what the fuck was happening, but the supposed 'evidence' was apparently damning enough to convince Graves through and through that you were a spy.

A rat.

Ghost's voice, laced with desperation and confusion, when Graves began to 'explain' your betrayal haunted you. More so than the act of being accused of treason, even. You just stared at him, past that skull mask, into those familiar dark eyes. Even now, as you ran for what could possibly be your life, that half-hidden expression was all you could see.

The moment Graves brought up arresting you, and even moved to try and grab you, your brain damn near malfunctioned. Your body reacted on its own.

You fucking ran.

Though you weren't sure how someone had found you, this was the position you were in now. The curtains blew out with the breeze, soft and inviting, almost like it was beckoning your jump. They unfurl before you like great wings, and you stare down at the green grass below. You'd surely be crippled by this fall. If not that, it could very well kill you.

Your heart seizes, your lungs struggle to take in air as panic begins to sets in like vines creeping over your nerves. For a moment, you freeze. There was no other way out.

But then there's a slam on the door behind you, so great that the frame creaks and sharp chunks of wood launch off and scatter onto the floor around you. You flinch and your body once again takes priority over your mind, tossing your leg over the sill and swallowing hard. You're going to have to make the jump for it.

You heave yourself up and over, planting your feet flat on the sill, your entire body shaking with both fear of the leap and the deeper issue at present. One hand braces against the top of the window, the other covering your mouth.

Behind you, the door bursts open. Wood splints and tears as it slams into the wall.

"Enough!" A voice shouts, thick with accent and heavy breaths. "You're going to break every damn bone in your body."

You can practically feel Ghost's gun pointed straight at you. You cringe.

Would he pull the trigger?

"Might as well do it now before someone else does trying to beat a confession out of me that'll never fucking come." You didn't mean for your voice to carry so sharp, so laced with the pain and hurt of being hunted by your own friends.

By Ghost, of all people.

How could he be so fucking blind after everything you'd been through together? You wanted to reach out and smack him upside the head. You'd patched each other up more times than you could count, you trusted him with your life, he'd trusted you with his.

Or so, you had always thought.

But the way he's looking at you has to second guessing.

But, ultimately, you knew the game at play. He was a good soldier- the best. He was a former lone wolf, distrustful to his core. You'd worked so fucking hard to get close with him and now it was all crumbling down. Even if you stayed and explained yourself, there would be no point. You would be arrested, processed, thrown in jail labeled a traitor to your country and more people than not would be celebrating it. You'd never see the light of day- shackled and stuffed into a prison so far off the map that God himself would struggle to find you.

And you would be damned if you were going to just sit there and accept your fate. Even if it meant you appeared just as guilty as Shepherd had painted you. You just needed to get away for a bit, collect yourself, and have the time to figure out what the hell was going on. But it seemed that was never in the cards for you.

The ground below looks menacing, but more forgiving than the fate that awaits you.

You can hear Ghost taking heavy steps forward, and you wonder why he hasn't just come up and ripped you from that sill already.

"Get down," He barks, and you shake at the tone, refusing to look back at him. Defiance shines through as you refuse to climb down.

"I'm not going down for something I didn't do!" Exasperated, your knuckles whitening with your iron grip. It takes what feels like eons to prepare for gravity to play its course, but in reality, it's been mere seconds. You try to force down air through the boulder in your throat.

For a moment, everything stills. You knew the outcome that was bound to come to this. You knew, deep down in your heart, that your fate was not a good one at this point. Either you die on impact, or you'd be wheeled into the interrogation room on a stretcher. That alone makes your skin crawl- interrogation. Knowing you had not a single detail to offer despite the amount of 'tactics' that would be used on you... The torture would essentially be never-ending.

You were well and truly fucked.

"I have to do this." You try to keep your voice level, but it betrays you. You hear Ghost suck in a sharp breath, the sound of his gear shifting. At this point, you don't even care if he shot you. At least you'd die with the person you loved.

"You don't." Ghost's voice is quieter, closer. Now you can really hear it- the sadness. The desolation. It wracks you to your very core.

With a hasty glance over your shoulder, you take in the sight of him. Maybe the last sight of him you'll ever get the chance to see. His looming figure stands feet away, gun still fixated on you. He looks defeated. Or, perhaps, torn. Riding that fence and teetering on the edge between believing you or hauling your ass back to Shepherd kicking and screaming.

Tears well in your eyes when realize his finger isn't even on the trigger. You nod at him sadly.

"I do."

And then, you give yourself to gravity. For a split second, you're weightless. Without much family back home, you found yourself thinking about your squad. How would Soap react? Gaz, or Price? Would they try to find your innocence, or would they take your cowardly actions at face value? Would Graves struggle with the weight of your life if he discovered his manhunt had been unwarranted?

Would Ghost be okay after firsthand witnessing such an awful, selfish act?

Would he ever forgive you?

With a sickening crack, your body slams into the brick wall of the building and you're left dangling in place. Your shoulder screams as you hang, and when you snap your attention toward the searing pain, you see two large hands grasped tight at your wrist and elbow.

"Damn it!"

Ghost's voice reaches you like a bullet had been ripped through your chest. He'd caught you, holding fast and unrelenting. You tried to fight, struggling against him, trying to reach up and pry those fingers away but they didn't budge.

It was over. You'd been caught. You were going to fucking prison and forever labeled a traitor to your country and everyone you ever knew. Everyone you ever fought with, and for, would remember you as a rat. A stain on the fabric of the U.S. Army.

"Let go!" You cry, feeling yourself reeling back into that room with Ghost's unwavering grip. "Just let go!"

Ghost grunts a sharp no before you're hauled up, into the room, and held fast by his arms caging you against him. He crushes you to himself, fingers near digging bruises into your skin and he's shaking you realize. Tears well up and flush past your waterlines, disappearing into the cloth of his gear. You haphazardly beat on his chest with a loosely formed fist.

"They're gonna fucking kill me" You sob. "It's not me, I didn't do anything."

You feel Ghost's arms leave you, and you realize now is when you'll have to surrender. You'll have to hang your head low and saunter away and into the clutches of the armies worst. You're crying into your hands now, not caring what you look like. Not caring this was the first time Ghost had ever truly seen you cry. And god, did you cry.

"Simon, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't me!"

He's silent as he watches you fall apart right in front of him. Though he uncurls his arms from your shaking frame, he doesn't back away, looking down at you, like he's unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to believe anymore. As you press your forehead to his shoulder, your legs threaten to give out from underneath you.

"Why is this happening." Your voice escapes you as a whimper, broken up with sharp, painful breaths. "What could I have done for someone to do this to me of all people? I know I'm not a saint, but,-" Finally you look up at him, babbling. "Fuck, what do I do?"

Ghost's eyes narrow as he watches you, taking in every word. He places his hands on your shoulders, the first familiar gesture you've felt yet.

"You think you've been framed?" He asks, tone cool despite the waves of emotions in his eyes. You nod.

"That's the only explanation I can think of, but why? I would never do this to my country, my home." You flicker your eyes up to his own. "I would never do this to you."

You can see him trying to work it all out in his brain. Weighing the evidence he'd been presented with versus the fact that he fucking knew you. Knew you like the back of his hand, knew you without even having to think about it. He knew you as he knew himself, and he just knew you wouldn't do this.

"So what is it then." He starts harshly, so terribly confused it brings about anger, like he needs the answer right now because he doesn't know what to do next and time is running thin.

Shaking your head, you shrug. "I don't know. I just-... I know that there's something going on here. Maybe by mistake, maybe intentionally, I don't know. But I didn't fucking do anything."

Ghost digests your words. You continue.

"I just need time to figure it out and I don't have it. I've got 141 and god fucking forbid, the Shadow's coming for this at this point." your face falls. "...Did anyone try to defend me after I left...?"

Ghost stiffens and swallows hard. You nod, laugh hoarsely. Of course.

"It was fast. There wasn't time to think." He offers. It made sense. You wondered what would have happened if anyone found you up here. If it had been Soap, or Gaz. Or Graves.

His eyes are softer now, his breathing leveling. Surely he's made a choice, but you aren't sure of which. You pray it's in your favor, that he realizes that this is you you're talking about. You pray he remembers all the time, the trust. As you watch him, like he's miles away from you, you can't help but notice him staring at you like you're just mere arms reach away.

Like you'd never left his arms at all, actually. Still flush against him a crying mess of pleads and hurt.

"Ghost, how copy?" Grave's voice pipes up from Ghost's radio.

You still. Ghost lingers a moment, like he doesn't want to answer, his eyes dart from his radio and then back to you, and you press your lips into a tight line.

Don't fucking answer it, your mind begs. Don't do this to me.

When Graves repeats himself, urgently this time, Ghost drags the radio begrudgingly up his clothed lips. Mouth running dry, hands shaking, you take a step back.

'Please,' You mouth. Ghost shakes his head and refuses to meet your gaze.

He was going to turn you in, after all.

He was a good soldier.

You, in that moment, recall the moments you spend side by side with this man. This scary, intimidating man, that you'd found comfort in. The person you plucked from the litter and thought to yourself, this one.

And he hadn't wanted you in. You bulldozed your way through until he found himself picking you out in crowds, remembering all those little things about you that no one else seemed to give a damn about. Waiting for you in the morning, sharing his thoughts and time.

You had always hoped, in another world, you two could enjoy life without all the pain together. A life outside of the army.

Surely, it would have been enough.

Face downcast, you hear him take a breath to speak.

"Clear." He says. "No sign."

There was no stopping the tears that spilled down your cheeks at that moment, mouth covered to muffle yourself, crouching down as your knees shook.

"Sonofa bitch! Regroup back at point A." Graves says with a sigh.

"Copy." Ghost says quickly, shoving his radio back into his belt. He takes a knee in front of you, and his hands cup the side of your wet face. You eye him, babbling thank you over and over again, sick with fear, gratitude, and confusion. A cocktail that left an unnaturally horrendous taste on your lips. He retrieves a hand just long enough to set his knife down o the floor in front of you.

"Now you've got time." He says matter-of-factly, but you can still sense that urgency in his words. He wants you to escape. To figure this out and come back to him his friend and partner.

He takes your discarded radio and switches it to the proper channel so you could keep tabs on their whereabouts and plans. The voices of your squad chatter on the line, Soap's voice above all wondering how the fuck this was even happening. Bless his heart, he even mentioned being worried for you, which was quickly shot down by Graves reminding him of your betrayal.

As Ghost crouches before you, massive, all-powerful it seemed, you watch his eyes. He pats your cheek. His gloved finger points to the window.

"Ever try a stunt like that again, I'll kill you myself." He bites. You nod, struggling to compose yourself. He stands and your mind begs for him to stay, to be with you during this, but you know he can't.

He lingers in the doorway like he's thinking the same thing.

"I will... Do what I can. Watch your back, soldier."

And then he's gone, and It's silent save for your harsh breaths. You shakily pull yourself up from the floor, grasping the knife he'd given you- his favorite blade entrusted to you. You'd wait for nightfall and make a run for it, find shelter day by day, and hopefully reconnect with him somewhere to go over what the hell was going on.

You prayed he'd find a way to convince them of your innocence, ask the right questions to the right people, and have more players in your court.

It would likely be your only way out of this awful nightmare.

#mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2

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ckret2 · 2 months

Text

Chapter 40 of human Bill Cipher, in spite of his fondest hopes, still being stuck in the Mystery Shack:

As much as Gideon wants out of the evil magic game, the survival of his father's used car dealership rides on Gideon's help.

And, relatedly, Bill's started receiving psychic car commercials.

1981

Ford had been in his study for what felt like forever, staring at the pile of papers and numbers on his desk, trying to stop the figures from shifting and swimming before his eyes; when something from behind him lit up the dim room with golden light and he a heard a familiar voice behind his shoulder—

"Heeey, Stanford! You've been having a lot of dreams about tax forms lately, what gives?"

Ford was startled out of his thoughts. He turned around, smiling in relief. "Oh, Bill! Hello." Apparently he was dreaming. Thank goodness. It explained why he couldn't seem to get these forms to make sense. "How long have you been watching me?"

"About twenty years."

"What?"

"About twenty minutes," Bill said. "I wasn't going to bug you tonight, but usually your dreams are a little more adventurous! You're starting to worry me, kid." He disintegrated the tax forms with a gesture and floated down to sit on Ford's desk, like a razor-thin glowing paperweight. It was strange to see him cross his legs. "What's on your subconscious?"

Ford hadn't thought his Muse cared that much about his day-to-day human troubles. It was comforting to know someone was worrying about him—someone so far beyond human potential that maybe Ford didn't have to worry he'd be disappointed to learn Ford was struggling a little. "It's my grant money," he sighed. "I feel like my research into Gravity Falls is nowhere near completion, but that money will only last for so long. It won't be long before I'll need to ask for more funding, and I'll have a hard time convincing anyone if I don't have anything to show for it, but I don't want to share incomplete research..."

"Ah, money. The second-worst curse human society's ever inflicted on itself."

"What's the worst one?"

"Marriage."

Ford barked a laugh. It wasn't even that funny a joke; it was just such unexpectedly human cynicism for such an otherworldly entity. It sounded like a joke Ford's dad would make.

"Well, money. What to do..." Bill drummed his fingers on Ford's desk, gazing off into the distance as he thought. Ford realized that, at some point while he was distracted, most of his study had vanished, leaving his desk and chair sitting precariously atop a faint gridded plane in the starry blue void where he usually met Bill. Finally, Bill said, "Have you considered buying gold?"

He hadn't. "Will it help?"

"Sure it will! Eventually!"

"In time to help pay my mortgage?"

"Hmm." Bill thought a moment longer, then snapped his fingers. "Got an idea." He floated off of Ford's desk to eye level, strange sigils appearing in white-blue light around him. "Do you happen to know where the people who decide your funding live?"

"Er... the general area." It had to be near the Backupsmore campus, didn't it?

"Then I might be able to help you!" The symbols solidified around Bill. "I know a little spell to help persuade people. It'll let you plant ideas in their dreams—give 'em a little subliminal nudge. It could make some bigwigs come around on the importance of the research you're doing out here."

A fascinating concept. Ford studied the sigils greedily. He didn't recognize them, but they looked fairly simple. "You're not... talking about mind control?"

"Nah, that's not in my wheelhouse. It'll just let you... talk to them! Like I talk to you! I'm not controlling you, am I?" His eye curved up in a facsimile of a smile. "But you'll find most people have a harder time ignoring you when you're talking to them inside their own heads. What they do with that when they wake up is up to them. Just think of it as a way to schedule an interview where you'll have their undivided attention."

Ford pressed his lips together as he thought; then shook his head. "Thank you, Bill, but no. I wouldn't feel right earning money that way. I'd rather know they were impressed by the scientific and historical value of my work—and if I use magic, I'll never know for sure if they really thought my work measured up."

Bill laughed. "That's what I like about you, Stanford! You really shoot for the stars—and you've got the work ethic to get there! You don't want the fame and fortune unless you earn it!"

Ford was momentarily taken aback. It was rare that his muse openly complimented him; on most nights he dealt with Ford with a sort of cool, detached fondness, something a little too distant to be real affection. When he did voice his approval, it was like the sun coming out after a month of cloud cover. There were nights, when Ford was really feeling his isolation in these woods and he'd half convinced himself all his years of research had been a waste of time, when he was half willing to chase that sunshine to the ends of the earth.

"You'll do whatever it takes to finish your research, won't you?" Bill asked.

Ford gave Bill an awkward, self-conscious smile. "Of course I will. How could I not?"

"Hey, not everyone has your ambition! Most people take the easy way to the top. Cheating, copying, riding on greater men's coattails... Some guys earn the dough to buy their gold, others just want to dig for someone else's." Bill spread his hands in a shrug. "Well, it was an idea." The sigils started to fade.

Ford raised a hand. "Hold on. I don't want to use it, but... do you think I could learn that spell anyway?" He smiled hopefully. "For research?"

"For fun?"

"For fun."

Bill laughed. "I was waiting for you to ask!" The sigils reappeared, and next to them appeared an incantation. "All right, I'll walk you through it. Pay attention, I don't think you've got enough time to go over it twice this REM cycle."

Ford nodded, focusing fully on Bill, determined to remember the spell well enough to record it in Journal 2 when he woke up.

####

Spring, 2013

Tentatively, Bud Gleeful said, "Son... now, I know you lost that spooky grimoire of yours. But... don't you have anything left that might help out the dealership?"

Gideon growled in irritation. "I told you, father! Everything I knew was in Journal 2! It's gone! Anyway, I'm just trying to be a normal kid now. I don't want to get mixed up in any more magic. I'm through with it."

"I understand," Bud said, nodding. "And I think that's mighty admirable of you, turning over a new leaf like that. Shows real maturity." He hesitated, wringing his hands together. He pre-emptively winced and said, "But it's just that... business hasn't exactly been booming, ever since your little tenure as Bill's sheriff. And you know I love the fellas you made friends with in the penitentiary, they're all such... colorful characters; but having them hang around does make folks a little wary to drive into the parking lot..."

Volume doubling, Gideon snapped, "Are you saying it's my fault?!"

"No, son, no. You know I'd never." Bud knelt down, and—cautiously, like he was trying to pet a feral cat—put a hand on Gideon's shoulder. "But, well... business is slumping, that's all. We'll be fine as long as we live within our means, don't you worry about that—but our means might not cover luxuries like those fancy suits and fine new boots you like so much, you understand."

Gideon lowered his gaze, tugging self-consciously on the sleeve of his favorite suit jacket. It was already just a little too short to be fashionable; he probably didn't have long until he outgrew it completely.

"Your mother and I are doing all we can," Bud said. "If there's anything you can do... well, you don't have to, of course. But—it'd be a mighty big help."

Gideon grit his teeth, glaring at his feet. (How long until he outgrew all his shoes? He had a growth spurt coming "any day now," he'd been told. The prospect didn't excite him.) He balled his hands into fists; and then muttered, "There... might be one spell I remember... the sigils were pretty simple..."

####

June 2013

Bill could see it in his mind's eye: if he kept pushing and pushing eventually there'd be no more room in two dimensional space for his mother to fill, and then she'd be forced to bend UP, up into the third dimension, all that open free space. Then she'd see the dark, she'd see the far points of light—

"STOP!" His mother howled in pain. He kept pushing. She was out of room. She didn't bend up. He shoved—and she splintered. Bone snapping, cartilage tearing, he could see inside her thin body as things broke and ruptured. He didn't know what to do.

And for several long, long seconds—he couldn't remember what was happening. The world seemed to bend wrong, and he couldn't remember.

At least, he couldn't have remembered a few weeks ago. He hadn't wanted to. But he'd been studying a book on lucid dreaming since then; and the first things it taught was how to remember more of his dreams. And now, he recalled exactly what happened next when he pushed his mother and she splintered and ruptured:

He pushed harder.

Her skin fractured and peeled off, strand after strand. It filled the spaces between his fingertips, wrapped up his arms. He could shut his eye but he still saw it through his eyelid, still felt it tickling at the corners of his mouth.

"You want me to tell everyone the third dimension's full of dead shapes?! Huh?!" All he could see was blood and bone and peeling skin. "Then why don't you go find them for me!" He let out an angry, hysterical, broken laugh.

Her hand grabbed weakly at his.

He let go and jolted back, gasping—and almost retched. What had he done? He hadn't meant to. But he'd kept pushing—but it was too late by then. It was too late by then, wasn't it?

"What have you done?"

Bill whirled around to face— "Dad?"

The green trapezoid looked as sick as Bill felt, eye darting in horror across the crumpled line in the corner. He couldn't even see most of it from where he was—his eye didn't work like Bill's, he couldn't look through the mess of skin to the gore beneath.

"It was an accident," Bill whispered. (He'd kept pushing.) "It really was, I promise."

His father tore his eye from the corpse to Bill's face. "What are we going to tell your followers?"

Bill looked past his father. Through a wall so thin Bill almost couldn't see it, hundreds upon hundreds of shapes were settled, waiting—to see him. He was sure: somehow, somehow, they could see him too. They knew what he'd done. His life was over.

A thunderous voice boomed, "Whooee, what a fix! Boy, you look like you could use a getaway car, couldn't you?"

Bill blinked. He blinked again. He looked up-but-not-north.

A human in a pink Hawaiian shirt, standing on top of the universe, looked down at him.

Bill said, "What."

"Here, let me just—getcha right—" The human plunged his hand through the second dimension, scooped beneath Bill, and popped him right up off the surface of the universe. "Now, if you'll pardon my saying so, you look like you could use a little help getting somewhere far, far away from here!"

Bill stared at him. "What."

"And I've got just the thing to help you!" the human declared. "Aren't you feeling stuck? Trapped? Just can't take your obligations anymore? Miserable you can't hit the road and see all of—well—" he gestured vaguely out at the flat surface of the universe stretching into the distance "—whatever this is? Then you need to visit your buddy Bud Gleeful—(that's me)—at Gleeful's Auto Sales, the finest used car dealership in Roadkill County! We'll get you a set of wheels that'll carry you on the cross-country police-evading tour of your dreams!" He dropped his voice and murmured to Bill from behind his hand, "Warranty expires at the state line."

"What." Bill looked down at the universe—and was disappointed but not surprised to see he wasn't a triangle anymore, but a human. He looked at Bud again. "Are you advertising to me. Is this an advertisement. Am I getting advertised to in my sleep."

"And if you sign before you leave, we'll throw in a free air freshener," Bud added.

Bill stared at him in horrified amazement. "I am going to kill you," he said. "And then I'm going to wake up and kill you in real life."

"Ah, well. That's a right shame."

####

Bill shot straight up with a roar of rage. "Oh, when I get my hands on...!"

"Whoa. Bad dream?"

Bill whirled around with a murderous glare. Dipper's spirit, ghastly and pale, was hovering in the middle of the attic. Bill snapped, "You're a bad dream!" He scrambled after the spirit.

"Whoa! Hey!" Dipper tried to swoop away from Bill toward the stairs.

Bill caught him by the back of the neck. "You are going back in your bo—bed, you're getting in, and you're not getting back out."

"Ow, let go!" Dipper squirmed in Bill's grip, kicking his feet in the air. "I was just going to turn off the TV! I heard it playing an advertisement, I think that's what put me in... you know." He gestured at himself. "The sleepwalking dream."

Bill hesitated in front of the kids' door. "What advertisement?"

"I don't know, it was too far away to tell. But I know it was an advertisement, it sounded... advertise-y."

"Hmm." Bill considered that. And then he flung Dipper's soul through the door.

"HEY!"

"I'll turn off the TV," Bill said. "Go back to sleep!"

Ugh. Everything ached, his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out in an attempt to escape and go forage for food independently, and the world held a vindictive grudge against Bill personally. He trudged downstairs, muttering crabbily to himself.

He wasn't surprised to discover the TV was off.

####

"I'm conducting a survey," Bill said. "Did you hear any advertisements from the TV last night? Maybe have any dreams that might have been influenced by hearing an ad?"

"Uh..." Soos slowed at the bottom of the stairs as he thought. "Nope. Slept like a baby all night."

"Interesting." He waved at Melody to try to catch her attention. "Hey, how about you?"

"Nope!" Already dressed for work, she hurried from the stairs to the living room without even glancing Bill's way. She tended not to linger when he was nearby. He told himself he was flattered.

"Dude," Soos said, "What happened to your arm?"

Bill looked down. On the underside of his forearm were two thick lines set at an angle, burned so dark brown they were nearly black. "Leaned on the stove after someone used the burner. Oops."

"Do you need...?"

"Don't worry about it, it's already healing." Bill rolled down his hoodie's sleeves as he leaned into the kitchen, "How 'bout you, Stan? Hear any phantom ads last night?"

"Nuh-uh. But I sleep with my hearing aids out," Stan said. "The only things loud and grating enough to wake me are a car horn or your voice."

"Ha!" Bill looked from Stan's side of the table to Ford's—and Ford wasn't facing him, but he was glancing from the corner of his eye toward Bill's arms.

Bill turned away without asking anything. No point. Obviously, Ford had been too far underground to have picked up anything. Bill told himself Ford was seething at getting the cold shoulder.

"What're we talking about?" Mabel asked, coming downstairs with Dipper close behind.

Bill looked at her—and then let his gaze sweep past her with the same cold disinterest he'd favored Ford with. He brushed past her to head upstairs. "Hey, somnambulist." He shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes as he passed. "TV was off. No one else heard anything. You dreamed your stupid ad."

"Hey." Dipper pulled his hat back up. "Jerk."

Mabel called, "Bill?"

He ignored her and kept walking.

####

"What was that all about?"

Bill was curled up in the attic window seat, flipping covetously through an issue of Gold Chains For Old Men; at the sound of Mabel's irritated voice, he merely said, "Oh, hello." He turned another page. "Here to try to make a fool of me some more?"

She planted her hands on her hips. "Bill, what are you talking about?"

"Tell me about those 'Mysteries' of yours. Did you plan your story any deeper than that? Were you going to arrange for me to catch you with a cloak and dagger just to make me wonder?"

Mabel paused. "Oh." She laughed weakly.

"So how many people were in on it, huh? Was it just you and Stanford, or did you have the whole house laughing at me behind my back?"

"It—it was just us two." She leaned on the wall by Bill's feet. "Um, so... are you actually mad?"

He shot her a venomous look, then lifted his magazine so he couldn't see her any more.

"Come on!" She poked his knee. "It was a harmless prank! And you lie to everyone all the time."

"No I don't."

"You're so sensitive."

"I am not," Bill said indignantly. "I'm proud. I have pride. And lately pride's about the only thing I have going for me. And I didn't think a friend would try to undermine it."

Mabel heaved a sigh. "Okay, all right. Sorry."

Bill lowered his magazine to peer at her skeptically. "Are you really?"

"Well, yeah." She leaned against the window seat. "It was just a joke, I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He stared her down a moment longer, assessing her sincerity. And then he sat up and pulled her into a hug.

She squawked in surprise, but returned the embrace. "Bill! What—?"

"You're sweet, you know that, star girl?" He gave her one last squeeze and let her go. "When you aren't trying to make me look dumb. But you don't rub salt in the wounds, that's what matters."

"Pfff. I kinda think you'd try to kill me if I did."

"Mmyeah, I might." He wouldn't. Only person in this entire dull rotten world who was willing to apologize for wronging him. He wasn't giving her up easily. "Hey—did you happen to hear any commercials last night? Maybe have any dreams that might've been caused by one?"

"Nope! I had a dream about cats fighting a war against an octopus."

"Oh, that one. Did the octopus win or did the lions show up in time?"

Mabel paused. "It's always creepy when you do that. But the octopus won this time."

"Aww. That poor picturesque beach town."

"I tried to get between the octopus and the town when the cats failed."

"Did you stop it?"

Mabel shrugged. "Dunno. I woke up before it reached me."

"Too bad! But hey—you've been making big progress with your lucid dreaming. You'll get it next time!" No salesmen offering cars as war chariots for the cats, though. It was almost a pity. Bill would've liked to hear about Bud getting eaten by a giant octopus.

"So I guess Dipper was the only one who thought he heard a commercial."

Dipper and Bill. "Guess so."

####

The large, empty floor room, down the main hallway at the far end of the house, was among the few places Bill was allowed to go. Except when the humans had some big event like a dance or a museum exhibit planned, there was nothing in it but a flat old sofa, a fireplace he couldn't turn on, and Soos's electric piano taunting him. In spite of its relative isolation from the rest of the household, Bill rarely had reason to visit it.

But when he wanted space to pace and think, there was no better room.

Last night's advertisement was magic, no doubt. And he suspected he knew the exact spell. The Mystery Shack was way on the outskirts of Gravity Falls; probably nobody else here was affected because they were just out of range of the signal. The only reason Dipper had nearly picked it up was because he didn't have his thick skull in the way when his spirit was out of his body.

But Bill's psychic abilities had been heavily suppressed since he was put in this body. How was he channeling the signal so much more clearly than anyone else?

He thoughtfully ran his tongue over his new golden tooth. "Hmm."

####

Bud entered the Gleeful house flipping through a pile of mail. "Junk, junk, bills, junk... Here's your subscription, honeybunch." He held out an issue of Nervous Wrecks Weekly magazine. His wife paused her cycle of polishing the front window to stiffly take it.

"Junk, coupons... Gideon! You've got a fan letter!" He checked for a stamp indicating the tiny envelope had passed through a state correctional facility. "And it isn't even from the prison, isn't that nice!"

"Coming!" Gideon ran out of his room, snatched the letter from Bud's hand with a little grunt, ran back to his room giggling, and slammed the door.

Bud chuckled. "Joy, sweetie, you remember when that boy got so much fanmail he used to throw it out? These days he's excited for every single letter." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Suppose it's good for him, learning to appreciate the little things."

"Mhm." She looked down at the roses outside the window. She'd need to trim those soon. "I suppose it is."

In his room, Gideon studied the odd envelope. It was tiny—barely large enough for the address and the stamp, no return address—and when he turned it over he discovered lines of text printed on the paper. The flap was tucked carefully into a fold in the envelope that held it tight.

As he pulled out the flap, he realized that the envelope wasn't held together with glue; it was some sort of cleverly-folded origami craft that began to unfold in his hands as he pulled out the flap. The letter was written on the inside of the envelope. "Why—what a delightful little creation!" He sat at his dressing table to focus on unfolding the letter, careful not to damage it so he could re-fold it later.

Once he'd smoothed it out, he could see that the paper was carefully torn from a book. The outside of the envelope was made from the last page of a chapter, with only a few lines of text at the top of the page and the rest left conveniently blank. It talked about telling the difference between waking and dreaming.

He turned the page over to read the letter.

GIDEON–

IT'S ADORABLE THAT YOU'RE USING A DREAM COUNTERFEITING SPELL FOR CAPITALISM! I BET YOUR PARENTS ARE PROUD! HOWEVER, MY FILLINGS ARE PICKING UP AUTO DEALERSHIP ADS ALL NIGHT. IT'S REALLY ANNOYING. CUT IT OUT.

In place of a signature, there was a triangle with an eye.

Gideon's blood ran cold.

He read the letter again, then studied the words themselves. He didn't recognize the tall, thin, crooked handwriting. He flipped over the envelope. No return address. He noticed for the first time that the letter wasn't addressed to "Gideon". It said "STAR BOY". Fan mail. Right.

The postmark was from Gravity Falls.

"It can't be Bill," Gideon muttered to himself. "Bill's dead. It's got to be some prankster with a twisted sense of humor..."

But then, how could some prankster know he was doing dream magic? Did anyone else even know that Bill had called him "Star Boy"?

No. It had to be a prankster. If Bill were alive, he'd be doing much worse than sending letters and complaining about fillings.

He crumpled up the letter and threw it away. His father's business needed Gideon to do whatever he could to help. Gideon's own financial future depended on it. He wasn't about to let some prankster stop him.

####

There was a rumble of several motorcycles and a revving car engine outside the Gleeful house, disturbing the late evening still. Gideon came in the front door wearing a little backpack, waving behind himself as he came in. "Thanks for the ride, Ghost-Eyes! Good talk today! I'll see y'all this weekend for brunch!" He shut the door as the engines receded into the distance.

"Welcome home, son," Bud said from the couch. "How were the ex-convicts this week?"

"Oh, great, just great. Graybeard's daughter is gonna let him meet his grandson and Spiderwebs got a new job."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear. I know you were real concerned for Spiderwebs."

"I shouldn't have worried! He got work at an alpaca ranch on the other side of town, did you know there's an alpaca ranch 'round here?"

"Can't say I did!"

"I think it's a good fit for him. Being out in nature calms him down."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as they waited a polite amount of time to change the topic. In the kitchen, Joy cleaned the same dish for the third time.

Bud cleared his throat. "Well, uh—you know, it's been a couple of days since we've run a 'nighttime ad.' Do you think it's a good time to...?"

Gideon squeezed his backpack's straps. He could still see that spindly text reading "STAR BOY". "Do you think? I don't want to put 'em too close together, folks might notice..."

Bud grimaced. "It can't hurt. It's been almost two weeks since I sold a car."

Gideon scowled. But he nodded. "Yeah, all right. I'll go set up."

"You know how much your mother and I appreciate it," Bud said. "I'll go heat up dinner."

Gideon went to his room, tossed his backpack on his bed, rolled out the tarp on which he'd drawn the circle and sigils in permanent marker, and set up the candlesticks and candles around the perimeter. His father called him to dinner; they watched an evening talk show; and after a little more dawdling, they figured it was late enough that most folks would be asleep, and went to Gideon's room to get to work.

As Bud awkwardly lowered himself to sit in the circle and Gideon lit the candles, Gideon asked, "Father, do you ever... remember who you talk to? I mean, whose dreams you're in?"

Bud considered that, pursing his lips. "No, can't say I do. It's a bit like I'm dreaming myself," he said. "And it's sort of a jumble of a few hundred dreams, too. Like I'm visiting the whole town at once. All I can recall is a blur!"

Gideon frowned. "I see."

"You sure you don't want to be sitting in the circle this time?" Bud asked. "I'd bet if folks saw you in their dreams telling them to buy a car, why, they'd just rush right down."

These days, Gideon wasn't so sure. Sourly, he said, "I don't want to get involved." He'd gotten enough of starring in his father's car commercials when he was younger. He'd thought he'd escaped that completely when he picked up the telepathy act; he didn't relish the thought of using telepathy to star in another car commercial.

"All right, suit yourself. Just keep it in mind." Bud got as comfortable as he could on the floor and shut his eyes.

Gideon took a deep breath and began chanting: "Dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away..."

The flames flickered and turned bright blue. A purplish shimmery light surrounded Bud; and as Gideon kept chanting, the light expanded to the edge of the circle and beyond, creeping across the floor, over the bed—

A shrill wail filled the room. They both started, losing their concentration. The wail persisted several seconds before it resolved into a eardrum-bursting roar of words: "HI I'M SCOUT YOUNGER AND I'M IN A PICKLE SO YOU CAN DRIVE FOR A NICKEL! I'VE GOT SO MANY CARS I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO PUT 'EM! SO WE'RE GIVING THEM AWAY FOR FIVE CENTS, THAT'S RIGHT FIVE CENTS! SCOUT YOUNGER, I'M A DEALER BY THE PEOPLE FOR THE PEOPLE—"

"Dagnabbit," Bud shouted, "that's the man undermining my no-barter-for-a-quarter deal and getting all my business! He's halfway to Portland—but darn it, his commercials are so catchy!"

"—THAT'S YOUNGER PATRIOT CARS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF INTERSTATE—" The commercial was cut off with a clap of thunder that made them both jump again.

And before the dying rumbles of the thunder had fully faded, a second voice spoke—a high-pitched, furious shriek that Gideon hadn't heard in nearly a year but instantly recognized: "SEE HOW YOU LIKE GETTING USED CAR ADS SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, YOU LITTLE TWERP. THIS IS MY FINAL WARNING!"

There was another crack of thunder; and then nothing.

Nothing but a faint, muffled, mechanical whir coming from Gideon's bed.

Slowly, Bud said, "Is that...?"

Gideon looked under his bed; then on top, tugging over his backpack and unzipping it; and he pulled out a still-running cassette tape player. A complicated sigil was painted on top of the player and stretched over the play button, glowing shimmery purple as though it had absorbed the magic from Gideon's spell.

Bud took the tape player, stopped it, rewound a bit, turned down the volume dial, and hit play: "—your throat in the middle of the night, you little—"

He stopped the tape. He and Gideon looked at each other.

Bud said, "Don't tell your mother."

####

"Third lap!" Dipper crowed as his car zoomed over the line on the digital racetrack. "You'd better catch up fast!"

"Aw, c'mon," Mabel groaned. She tilted her body along with her game controller as she steered her car around a tricky curve, as though that would help her go a little faster. "No fair, I'd be winning if you didn't throw a goose at me—"

"Pff, shut up, you always use the goose."

Bill was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the fish tank—as far as either Dipper or Mabel could tell, having a staring contest with the axolotl—but without breaking eye contact with the tank, he leaned over to elbow Dipper's knee. "Hey kid. Go left."

"What? No, shut up." Dipper tried to kick Bill's arm away.

"Go left. Trust me, it's a hidden shortcut."

"No! You're not even watching."

"I'm psychic. Go left."

"No." Dipper jerked his car to the right. It drove off the track and landed in quicksand. "Aw, man—"

"YES!" Mabel sailed past him. A fanfare played as she crossed the finish line. "The winner! Woo-woooo!"

Bill beamed as Dipper glared at the side of his face.

Somebody knocked on the door—and kept knocking, frantically hammering for attention. Dipper and Mabel looked over.

Bill glanced over, rolled his eyes, said, "You don't want to answer that," and looked back at the fish tank.

Dipper glared at him again, stood, and went to answer the door, Mabel close behind. "Hel— Gideon?"

"Told you," Bill muttered.

Gideon was sweating, panting, and wild-eyed with panic. "Mabel! Dipper!" He paused to give Mabel a sweet smile. "Hi Mabel~♡" And straight back to panic. "We've got a problem! I know y'all don't want me 'round here, but—but this is an emergency!"

Dipper glanced at Mabel. She sighed, but reluctantly stepped back to let Gideon in. "All right. What is it?"

"I know I sound insane, but—but you have to trust me," Gideon said. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, but Bill Cipher's back! I'm sure it's Bill, it can't be anyone else, he... he knows things only somebody with his powers could know!" He paced anxiously in front of the twins, "He's been sending me threatening mail and harassing me and—and I don't know what he's up to, but we've got to find him and stop him! You've gotta help me!" He grabbed Dipper's arms. "I think he might be trying to kill my family!"

Dipper and Mabel turned to glare at Bill.

He was determinedly studying the fish tank.

"Hey, Goldie," Dipper snapped.

Bill glanced over with an expression of mild interest. "Hm?"

"Gideon here says that Bill's been harassing him," Dipper said. "What do you think about that."

"Oh wow," Bill said, extremely unconvincingly. "That's so crazy. I can't even believe it."

Gideon's anxious gaze darted past Dipper and Mabel. "Who's...?" He thought he remembered seeing that stranger around Wendy.

Dipper stepped between their line of sight. "Thanks, Gideon. We'll handle this... problem."

The stranger got to his feet and sauntered to the entryway. "Hey Gideon. Just out of curiosity, what were y—"

Mabel cut in, "Bye, Gideon!" She tried to push him toward the door. "We'll see you later!"

The stranger leaned over Gideon, planting a hand on the doorframe. "—what were you doing that got on Bill's nerves so much, I wonder—"

"Shhh!" Mabel tried to push Bill away.

Had Gideon not heard the voice so recently, he might not have noticed anything odd about the stranger in front of him. But as it was, a chill instantly ran up his spine. He slowly looked up. The menacing smile was unfamiliar, but the eye... something was wrong with that eye. The longer he stared into it, the more he could see the cruel, mad, golden inhumanity.

Gideon squealed in terror and bolted out the door.

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "Seriously?"

Mabel chased after him. "Gideon! Gideon wait!" She caught up with him rounding in front of the gift shop and had to tackle him into the dirt.

"Get offa me! You're working for him, you traitor—"

"Gideon, listen! We're not working for him, he's our prisoner!"

"Oh." Gideon stopped struggling. "Well, that's a different kettle of corn, isn't it."

Mabel sighed in relief. She backed off Gideon, but had to hold his ankle to make sure he wouldn't bolt again. "Okay, look. We don't know how, but Bill's stuck in a human body, and he's got no powers."

"How do y'all know he isn't faking it?"

"Because he tried to kill us and we beat him up." She winced. "We've... kind of beat him up a lot."

Gideon nodded. "O... okay."

"But you can't tell anybody," Mabel said. "If there's an angry mob or something and he gets executed, the real Bill might hatch from his body like an egg and he'll take over the town again!"

Gideon shuddered. He could almost still feel ache in his legs and the blisters on his feet under the adorable sparkly pink shoes.

"So he's fine here with us. We've got everything under control, he's not dangerous like this—" Mabel turned around to shout, "—and HE SHOULDN'T BE SENDING THREATENING LETTERS, BILL."

Bill's voice drifted from around the corner of the house: "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!"

Dipper said, "What did Gideon do to warrant that, anyway?"

Bill glowered into the distance. "He knows what he did."

"Okay, I-I won't tell anyone. I promise." Pitifully, Gideon asked, "Can I go home now?"

"Yeah, you can go home now." Mabel let him go. He got up and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.

####

They reconvened in the living room. Dipper and Mabel stood in front of Bill, glaring. Bill sat on the sofa, smiling innocently.

"Bill," Mabel said. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Oh, yeah?" Lots of people thought he should be ashamed of himself, but not many had the guts to say so.

"Bullying Gideon like that!"

"I have an excuse," Bill said. "I've been crabby this week. Body made me crabby. Some kind of human neurotransmitter imbalance. I didn't sign up to have neurotransmitters, it's completely out of my hands."

"That's not an excuse," Dipper said.

"Plus, you're an entire adult thing!" Mabel said. "You're picking on a little kid! He's like, eleven!"

"So? There's not a lot of difference between eleven and a hundred eleven when you're a million million years old."

"Then maybe you're too old to bully anybody."

Bill blinked in mild surprise. "Huh."

Dipper said, "Plus, you're gonna blow your cover and get everyone in trouble!"

Bill shrugged. "He can't prove anything! Anyone could have sent a letter pretending to be me."

Mabel asked, "How did you send a letter, anyway?"

####

"Hey, Soos," Mabel yelled, "Can you send a letter for me?"

"Sure thing, hambone! Just stick it on the pile in the kitchen."

Mabel licked a stamp, haphazardly slapped it on the envelope to her parents, tossed it on the other mail, and ran back upstairs.

Bill crept into the kitchen, peeled the stamp off Mabel's envelope before it dried, stuck it on his tiny origami letter, and stuffed them both into the middle of the mail pile. "Sorry, kid," he muttered. "You'll just have to resend this one."

####

"I have my ways," Bill said.

"And how did you 'harass' Gideon?" Dipper asked. "What could you possibly do from in here to harass him?"

####

Bill sat on the sofa in the floor room with Mabel's boombox radio on the floor, a cassette tape player/recorder he'd salvaged from the museum held up to the speaker with his thumb hovering over the record button, his other hand hovering over the key with the thunder sound effect on Soos's keyboard, an air horn between his knees, and a nearly-dead marker he'd fished out of Mabel's trash and revitalized with rubbing alcohol waiting next to him for drawing a magic-activated sigil. He glared at the boombox as the local radio station played an advertisement for air conditioning installation. "Come on," he muttered at the boombox. "Play the stupid car commercial."

The next ad started. "Bargain alert, bargain alert! I've got more used cars than I know what to do with! Hi, I'm Scout—"

"Yes," Bill hissed. He hit the record button, squeezed the air horn between his knees, held the tape recorder up to the boombox until the end of the commercial, kicked the boombox's power button, quickly held the tape recorder up to the piano, and triumphantly hit the key that produced the sound of a flushing toilet.

"NO!" He kicked the electric piano's leg, flung the tape recorder to the other end of the sofa, and flopped face down on the cushions. After permitting himself a moment of grief at the injustice of it all, he dragged over the tape recorder, stopped it, rewound it back to the start, hit the lightning key several times to make sure he had it, and then set up again to wait for the next time the car commercial played.

####

"Hey Wendy, could you get this door for me?"

Wendy gave Bill a puzzled look. "That's the wrong hallway. Rainbow Club's down that one." She pointed at the door across the room.

"I know, I'm just looking for the restroom! I need to dooo... girl hygiene things?"

Wendy looked at the tape player-shaped lump under Bill's shirt, looked at his face, and raised her brow.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna prank Lil Gideon."

Wendy opened the door, leaned through, and opened a second door to a coat closet. "Good luck. We're all counting on you."

Bill saluted her, and rummaged through the leather biker jackets in search of Gideon's little backpack.

####

"You've got no idea what kind of dark powers I still have at my disposal," Bill boasted, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head.

Dipper turned to Mabel. "Yeah, he's got nothing. He probably bribed a tourist to call Gideon's house or something."

Bill scowled, but didn't dignify Dipper with a response. "Anyway, the game's over now that Gideon knows where I am. I won't do it again."

Dipper scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Why should we trust you?"

"Because," Bill said calmly, "if I do it again, you'll have to tell your uncles, and I'll be in serious trouble. So I won't... and therefore, you won't. Right?"

Dipper frowned, but looked at Mabel. Mabel was considering Bill with her hands on her hips. She prompted, "Aaand...?"

It took Bill a moment to figure out what she was aiming for. "And I've realized I was mean and I'm very remorseful for my hurtful actions."

Mabel pointed at him. "That's what I wanna hear!" She looked at Dipper. "I think we can let him off with a warning."

Dipper shook his head in resignation.

Mabel said, "But you're not stopping there, Bill."

"How's that?"

"Come on, man, think!" She poked her finger against her temple. "You know the answer! We just watched this episode yesterday!"

"Episode?" Dipper asked.

"I've been using Color Critters to teach him social skills."

Bill said, "I have social skills, all you're doing is showing me what'll be on the test."

"That's how learning works, dummy! I wanna hear you regurgitate that textbook answer!"

Bill opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and pantomimed sticking his finger down his throat and gagging; but then he said, with a blatantly artificial chipper tone, "'If we hurt our friends, we should try to find a way to make it up to them and make sure it can't happen again.'"

"That's right! 98 points! I'm taking two off for attitude."

"So how do you expect me to make it up to him? I can't exactly un-send him a letter. Unless you're gonna loan me that time tape—"

"Stop asking for the time tape," Dipper said, "it'll never happen."

Bill shrugged. "Then what do you suggest."

"Figure it out yourself," Mabel said. "You're the one who's gotta make it up to Gideon, not us."

Bill rolled his eye. "Is this part of the terms to buy your silence?"

"Yeah, it is."

"All right, fine." Bill sighed and stood up. "Give me a bit to brainstorm. I'll be upstairs." He meandered out of the room.

Mabel called after him, "You better not think you're wiggling out of this!"

"Relax! I won't disappoint you, Shooting Star. Promise."

Once he was out of earshot, Dipper turned to Mabel. "How do you expect him to make it up to Gideon?"

"He should say 'sorry.'"

Dipper nodded. Okay, sure, that sounded reasonable. "How long do you think it'll take for him to think of apologizing?"

"I'd give it a couple of hours."

####

(If you recognize the dealership being parodied, we now share a warrior's bond. Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, I've been looking forward to introducing Gideon for a long time! As always, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts and comments on the chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gideon gleeful #mabel pines #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(i got impatient I'm posting this a few hours early)

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angelsnkisses · 8 months

Text

Study Break - Dalton Lambert x fem!reader <3

💟 nsfw - mdni 💟

A/N: there's not nearly enough stuff on here for dalton, so of course, i had to assist! i mean, the movie is still pretty new.. so that's probably why but whatevs :).

warnings: softdom!dalton, sub!fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

Quiet, slow music hummed in your ears, flowing through your headphones as you tapped your pen against your lower lip. You stared down at your nearly blank journal page, brows furrowed and mouth turned in a scowl. You couldn't think of anything, not one idea for your paper, and it was bugging the hell out of you. You groaned after a hot minute of practically boring holes into the paper with your gaze, yanking out your headphones and laying your head on the desk.

"The universe is against me, I know it," you huffed, whiny and defeated. Dalton, who had been sketching and watching you work for the better part of two hours, looked up from his own book. He chuckled, but still smiled apologetically, getting up off the bed and walking over to stand beside you. He looked down at your paper, one of his hands rubbing your back with a gentle touch. "No it isn't, you've never done anything to the universe," he argued lightheartedly, crouching down next to the chair and tapping your back gently. You didn't respond, still wallowing in your own little vat of self pity.

"Hey, come on. You're gonna figure it out," he reassured, reading what you had so far before turning to you. He couldn't see your face, but he knew you probably had on that frustrated pout of yours, the one he secretly loved so much. You peeked down at him, sighing when you saw his face. Those eyes always pulled you in, took your mind off whatever it was you were even upset about it the first place. You rotated the chair to face him, leaning down and putting your hands on the sides of his face.

He was so sweet, so supportive despite you being just a little dramatic about your project. It wasn't due for a week, and your partner was doing half of it anyways. Your tense expression relaxed as you brushed his hair out of his face, cracking a small smile. "You're right, you're right. I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" you asked, earning a little laugh. He shook his head in your hold, resting his hands on your knees and leaning up.

"Not ridiculous, you just worry too much," he teased, gaze flicking between your eyes and lips. You frowned a bit, still messing with his hair as you felt your face heat up. He was right, you did worry quite a bit. About your classes, him, work.. you couldn't help it. You moved your hand to cover his mouth when you saw him start to lean in, pushing his head away with a playful scoff.

"Better watch yourself, Lambert. I still gotta focus," you said, trying to sound annoyed. Really, you just sounded amused.. which you were. He groaned against your palm, his hand darting up to grab your wrist. He kept your hand against his face, turning it a bit and pressing a small kiss to the skin. "I'll help you de-stress," he said, his words a whisper between his kisses. He trailed the kisses up your arm, listening to your hesitant sigh.

"My roommate will be back soon," you reminded him, trying to ignore how good his lips felt. It was hard to say no to him, but your poor roommate had been traumatized enough times. She had already caught you twice, once being on her birthday. She always insisted it was fine and she should've knocked, but you always insisted it was your fault, and she shouldn't have to knock to get into her own dorm. Still, you really needed to start shooting them a warning text..

"I'll be quick. I swear," he vowed, his gaze longing and fervent. You couldn't help but get deja vu everytime you saw him between your legs, always remembering the first time he'd ever settled himself down there. That was over a year ago, when he was far more inexperienced and you had to teach him what you liked, etc. Now, he knows exactly how to get you to cum on his tongue over and over, and it's one of his favorite things to do. He watched you get lost in thought, that familiar look in your eyes telling him you were starting to give in.

"Yeah, that's it," he mumbled, his free hand squeezing your knee. He pushed lightly against it, trying to get you to open up your legs for him with encouraging hands. Your stomach did backflips when you saw how worked up he was getting, heat pooling between your thighs. Biting down on your lower lip and peeking at the small alarm clock on your desk, you hesitated, glancing between him and the paper.

"Just for a little while, then I'll let you work," he promised, thumbs rubbing anxious circles on your skin. You gaged his pleading gaze, warmth spreading over your skin where he touched you. You looked down at his hands, biting back a quiet noise. You always forgot how big they were, how long the fingers stretched.. you didn't stop him when they hooked into the waistband of both your shorts and underwear.

"Lift your hips for me," he murmured, the subtle dominance in his voice making your knees weak. You did as he said, heart pounding as you watched him peel them off your legs with ease. You slowly started to spread your legs apart once the fabric was discarded, feeling even more vulnerable when he inhaled sharply at the sight. Just the thought of him touching you more was enough to get you soaked, arousal glistening for him to see. You watched his eyes light up, legs shifting underneath him so he was on his knees as his hands gripped your thighs. He tugged you closer to the edge of the chair, a seemingly pleased hum emitting from his throat.

"Knew you'd like it," was the last thing he muttered before pushing his face forward, pressing his tongue flat out to lick a slow, greedy strip up your dripping cunt. The suddenness made you gasp, the warmth pulling a mewl from you as one of your hands laced into his hair. His name rolled off your tongue when he pressed a kiss to your clit, his lips soft and welcoming. Dalton peered up at you through dark lashes, one hand releasing your thigh. You squirmed under his stare, about to whine for more when he started gently sucking your clit between his lips. The moan you produced was intoxicating, filling his ears and egging him on.

You were too caught up in the feeling of his mouth to notice his hand moving just below his chin, index finger prodding at your sopping hole and catching you off guard. He was quick to smack one of your thighs upon them tightening around his head, a wordless warning that left your skin stinging. You pushed your legs back open shakily, fingers tightening as you pulled at his hair. The action instantly enticed a heavy moan, vibrating through your swollen clit and making you buck your hips involuntarily. The deep, muffled chuckle he released against you was unreasonably sexy, reminding you how desperate you were already acting for him.

You were about to apologize quietly, when his finger abruptly moved into the comfort of your warm walls, pumping slowly and clearing any considerations of speaking. Instead, you leaned against the back of the chair, breathing shallow and quick. "Dalton," you whimpered, the closeness making your whole body ignite with need. You were sure he could feel you practically throbbing against his lips, even more so when his middle finger joined the index. You almost felt guilty pulling at his pretty hair, the brown strands soft and silky between your fingers. You loosened them, carding through his hair instead in an attempt to taciturnly make up for the rough grip.

His fingers picked up speed when he felt you clench around them subtly, unable to help the proud feeling he was consumed with. He loved that despite his unruly life, nothing could affect his ability to make you feel good. Nothing could stop him from loving and caring for you, and that was good enough for him. He tried not to get all sappy, focusing on your trembling figure instead. He ignored the painfully hard bulge in his jeans, craving your release almost as much as you were. He longed to feel your slick coat his fingers, his movements picking up a bit. When his fingers started to curl, you just about lost it, heels digging into the ground as you tried to stabilize yourself.

"Mmh, don't stop," you begged, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the first time he took away your orgasm at the last minute. He had no ulterior motives tonight, however. He just kept up what he was doing, darkened eyes staying on you nearly the whole time. His cock ached at the sight of your face contorting in pleasure, that familiar little 'o' forming on your face as you cried out. His lips twitched up when you came undone on his face, his eyes rolling back just a bit as your familiar taste invaded his tongue. The majority collected on his fingers as he licked and tortured your overstimulated clit, your orgasm slowly beginning to subside as he helped you ride it out.

He pulled his fingers out, pulling back and inspecting them. He grinned at the sight of the sticky, pale substance, catching your tired eyes before pushing them past his lips. He groaned softly around the digits, sucking them completely clean. It wasn't enough, his greed getting the best of him as he leaned back in. You borderline yelped when he started sloppily lapping up the leftover arousal soaking your cunt, your eyes brimming with tears as his nose rutted against your clit.

"W-wait.." you begged softly, your legs twitching everytime he bumped into the sensitive spot. He pulled away when he was satisfied, shifting himself onto his feet and standing up. He leaned down to put his hands on the arms of your chair, caging you in with a sweet, yet heated gaze. You couldn't help but shudder when he got a bit closer, your body buzzing as you caught your breath. He tilted his head, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours. You involuntarily moaned against him, hands grabbing at his shirt and tugging him closer. Your eyes blinked shut when you tasted yourself on him, cheeks burning with the realization.

Dalton was starting to get needy himself, kissing you with affectionate, hungry lips. You made a surprised little noise when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, the kind of noise that made him yearn for you like no other. He felt a little guilty, especially since he'd promised you to be quick, but god, he couldn't stop thinking about how good you felt around him, how perfectly he filled you.. it was driving him insane.

"I wanna feel you," he practically moaned against your lips, his voice pleading and breathless. The blunt words made you wet all over again, a borderline inaudible sound leaving you as you forced yourself to shake your head. He broke the kiss, trailing smaller ones to your jaw. One of his hands moved to the side of your neck, holding you still so he could start nipping at the soft skin. Your pulse thrummed against his palm quickly, which he allowed to flatter him just a little.

"C'mon, she won't come home," he murmured, as if he could read your mind and tell exactly what was making you anxious. He wasn't actually sure when she'd be back.. but he didn't mention that part. He was about 70% sure he had enough time, and that was good enough for him. He waited while you pondered it, his lips pressing into the space where your jaw met your neck. You groaned, mentally cursing yourself before lacing your fingers back into his hair. He hummed at his little victory, hands beginning to wander your figure.

You knew you shouldn't, it was unfair to your roommate.. and the neighboring dorms that could probably hear you if they listened hard enough. You just couldn't help yourself, you rarely could around him. Your hands were shaking slightly in his hair when he lifted you off the now wet chair, crossing the small room to get back to your bed. He pushed his sketchbook off the comforter and onto the floor, setting you down on the mattress before standing. You felt exposed, reaching down and trying to shove your shirt over your bare bottom half while he stood over you.

The way he chuckled had your arousal leaking onto the bed beneath you, his hands moving to start undoing his belt. He watched you, taking his sweet time, tilting his head just a bit when you whined beneath him. "Don't be embarrassed, I've seen it all before," he reminded you, as if you had somehow forgotten how he was practically making out with your pussy not 5 minutes earlier. Your face got hot all over again, thighs clenching together at the sound of his voice. You always got so desperate after your first release, craving more of that syrupy sweet pleasure that only he could provide.

The way he was affecting you didn't go unnoticed by him, his teeth flashing in a grin as he tugged the belt from the waistband of his jeans. He began undoing the button and zip with one hand, the other gesturing toward your half naked body. "You're gonna keep that on for me, hm?" he mumbled, his eyes swimming with lust as they raked over every inch of your form. The shirt was his, otherwise it would have been on the floor in seconds. His favorite thing in the world was fucking you while you wore his clothes, and he did it every chance he got (which was a lot, since you were almost always in one of his shirts or jackets).

You nodded shyly in response to his question, not trusting your voice. You bit down on your tongue when he started tugging his jeans down, eyes greedily lingering on the front of his black boxers. He felt his cheeks heat up just a little at your attention, tilting his head down and pretending to mess with the hem so you wouldn't see his reddened cheeks. You watched his hands carefully, rubbing your thighs together when he continued to take his time.

"Please, I need you so bad," you whimpered, catching his attention. You didn't usually say stuff like that, claiming it sounded silly coming from you. The simple sentence sent a throb through his already aching abdomen, his hands pushing down the fabric without any more hesitation. You could have cum just from the sight, abdomen tensing with need. "Yeah? Need me to make you feel good?" he cooed, cocky now that he'd gotten the reaction out of you. He didn't wait for your answer, climbing over you and putting his big hands on your thighs. He tugged you closer, pushing your legs open with his eyes pinned down. He could have wept at the sight of you all wet for him again, making a small mess on your sheets and covering your inner thighs with the shiny, translucent slick.

"You're so pretty," he half-moaned, one of his hands leaving your thighs. The compliment had you reaching up, hands roaming his chest needily. He gave no warning before he dragged his index up your slit, collecting some of the liquid desire on his fingertip and slipping it past his lips. Your whole body warmed at the sight, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You watched him lean down more, positioning himself between your legs and lining his swollen, eager tip up with your dripping hole. His eyes flickered up to yours when you gasped quietly, the hand on your thigh slipping up to grasp your hip soothingly.

"You ready?" he asked, his tip already wet from nuzzling into your folds. You whispered a deprived, desperate 'yes,' so clearly craving him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, trying to somewhat distract you with the gesture while he started to push himself inside your tight, wet heat. You both gasped in unison, yours shakier than his due to the stinging stretch between your legs. He kissed all over your face, mumbling quiet apologies as you winced and huffed with every inch he gave you. No matter how many times you did this, he always had to start slow with you. The initial stretch was always the hardest part, but after that, it was typically smooth sailing.

By the time he had bottomed out, you were already pretty much used to it, lips catching his as soon as you were given the chance. You whimpered when he started pulling back again, the drag of him along your walls stirring up pleasure in your abdomen. You could hear him groan into your mouth, hand slipping under your shirt as he moved. He palmed at your right tit, squeezing the soft mound of flesh gently. His slightly rough hands were warm and comforting, touching you just right as his hips started moving at a steady, slow pace.

The moan you produced was heavenly, louder than before as pleasure trickled across your body. Dalton found himself disappointed that he didn't get to truly appreciate the sounds you were making, breaking the sloppy kiss so he could hear you properly. His pace was gradually increasing, his own quiet moans giving you all sorts of funny feelings in your belly. He leaned up a little more so he could look down at what he was doing, groaning at the sight. You peeked down, too, biting your lower lip when you realized how wet you were getting him. His dick was partially covered in a creamy white, making a wet, almost squelching sound with every thrust. You released an embarrassed whine, the lewd sounds making you feel ten times more exposed.

Dalton didn't share your feelings of embarrassment at all. In fact, he was going fucking nuts about the fact that he could literally hear how soaked he made you. His thrusts started to get harder, the sound of skin on skin mixing in with your whiny moans as he continued watching himself fuck you. The way his big cock disappeared, reappeared, disappeared, reappeared over and over was fucking hypnotizing. The only thing that could tear his gaze away was the sound of you gasping, hands dropping down to grip the sheets as your back arched up a bit.

"Oh, right there," you pleaded, eyes fluttering shut as your head fell back into the pillows. Dalton quickly realized what he was doing to you, a proud little smile on his face as he chuckled breathily. "Mmh, feels good, huh?" he cooed, knowing you couldn't answer as his hips pushed against you to deliver a particularly hard thrust. Your legs started to tremble, a loud, desperate cry escaping your lungs when he started intentionally pushing against that perfect spot over and over. Your toes curled, legs wrapping loosely around his waist as you tried to get him closer, deeper. Something must of been in the air today, because you couldn't remember the last time you were this frantic for him.

You were wrapped around him just right, snug and warm and wet. He felt his tip kiss your cervix, shushing you softly when you whimpered and squirmed under him, not knowing what to do with yourself. His libidinous sounds encouraged you, the noise coaxing you closer and closer to your second release. One of your hands moved from the sheets, trying to pry his from your hip so you could interlock your fingers. He noticed right away, releasing his bruising grip and taking your hand, pushing it against the bed as he fucked you harder.

"Dalton, 'm gonna cum," you managed to warn softly, a choked whine following quickly after. He hummed, an adoring smile pulling at his lips as he gazed at you. He didn't take his eyes off you once, just rubbing an encouraging thumb across the back of the hand he held. "That's it, cum on my dick," he purred, the filthy words catching you off guard. Your legs tightened around his waist when you felt it all wash over you, shaking and crying as he fucked you through it. You heard a raspy 'fuck' over the roaring in your ears, a whimper sneaking it's way into your boyfriend's moans as he felt his own orgasm snap. He pushed himself as deep as he could manage, head falling on your shoulder as he filled you up with warm, thick cum. It was mind numbing, your pussy still twitching and fluttering around him as his thrusts continued. You were overstimulated, but you wanted to let him ride it out.

"Atta girl," he mumbled, his thrusts slowing to a stop as he panted heavily. He pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to your shoulder before he pulled back, blue eyes meeting yours. His heart swelled when you gave him those loving, hooded eyes, unable to stop himself from smiling subtly. His hair stuck to his forehead, face flushed and chest heaving with his deep breaths. You couldn't help but stare, the hand that wasn't in his shakily reaching for his face. You brushed the damp hair from his face as best as you could, tired and lovesick in your peaceful afterglow. He pushed his cheek into your palm, sighing contently through his breaths.

After a few moments of the two of you catching your breath, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours once more. This kiss was different than the other ones, gentle and caring instead of sloppy and desperate. Taking his opportunity, he slipped himself out of you, the sudden emptiness eliciting a gentle moan from you. He whined dramatically when you broke the kiss, your teeth flashing as you grinned, amused. You looked over his shoulder at your alarm while he started kissing your neck, craving aftercare just as much as you were. Sadly, it was already 9, and your roommate rarely stayed out very long after that. You mentally cursed your predicament, giving Dalton apologetic eyes. "She's probably on her way now," you mumbled, and he knew exactly what you were talking about. He groaned against your neck, clearly disappointed, but still pulled away. He thought about it for a second, before scoffing when he realized how obvious the solution was.

"Oh wait- duh, I live here too. We can walk over to my dorm," he recalled, making you laugh; a genuine, almost musical sound that had Dalton folding for you all over again. He pressed one more kiss to your forehead before gently pulling your legs off his waist and standing. "What about Chris?" you asked, wincing softly as you sat up. The space between your legs ached, and when you moved, you could feel cum start to leak out of you. It made you blush, remembering just how exposed you were. You watched Dalton pull on his boxers as he shrugged. "She's with a friend tonight," he responded, like it was common knowledge.

"You're telling me I risked my roommate getting an eyeful of us.. you know, when we could have been in your empty, risk-free dorm?" you gasped, mocking betrayal. He laughed at that, throaty and low as he lifted his hands in defeat. He grinned sheepishly, walking over to the desk chair where this whole situation began. "Yeah, maybe," he admitted, earning a playful eye roll from you (you would never admit it, but part of you loved the risk). He picked up your shorts and underwear, walking over and offering them to you.

"Here, we'll get you all cleaned up when we get there. I have some clean clothes you can wear," he promised, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple before turning to hunt down the rest of his clothes..

A/N: this is.. something. i never know how to end fics, that's why its always so abrupt 😭. anyways, i finally finished this one! i wanna write another one with a gn!reader :). work and classes have kept me so busy, but i'm gonna try to post a bit more frequently 🫶 hope you enjoyed <3! (not proofread yet)

#ty simpkins #dalton lambert #dalton lambert smut #dalton lambert x reader #insidious #insidious: the red door #insidious the red door #i love him so bad #angelsnkisses #mdni

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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Cold as ice II

a/n because why not take an opportunity to cry some more. I am so thankful for all the love honestly! You guys are the best!✨🤍

summary: what happens when Ellie stumbles upon a memorial that turns out to have both your and Joel's kids names on it. When the past pain is brought back to the daylight even the coldest of hearts finally break.

This can be read as a standalone but is written as a part two to Cold as ice.

warning: Killing, mentions of multiple death, loosing your kids, supplement use, mention of miscarriage, trauma but I think this is not as bad as the first part lol.

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"How is she?", Tommy approached Joel in a tight corridor that was filled with both sobbing people and soldiers shouting. "The same," Joel ran a hand over his face, "They are moving everyone out of here today. To a different quarantine facility." Those words instantly sparked something in Joel. "What? Shit, she's still pumped up with meds", if the process of going there was as torture as it was getting here, you barely stood a chance.

"Joel", Tommy started, but Joel was all up at his face within a heartbeat, "Tommy, if you'll tell me one more fucking time to leave her by. I will blow out your brain's myself". The tone was anything but pleasant. Joel had been wanting to rip someone to pieces for some time now. He had beaten the stranger to a pulp here after the first day. The man was standing in front of the door that led to your room. Crunched down to look through the little window. Joel didn't ask questions; he just swung a punch. Nor did he remember much besides that when Tommy pulled him away, the man was nothing but a pool of blood.

"You know that's not what…", "She lost two kids…", Joel's words cracked mid-sentence as the thought of his two angels once again swirled in his mind. His biggest and most precious little bugs were taken away like that. "So did you, man", Tommy brought Joel closer to him. Joel's arms moved to grip the material of his brother's jacket. He didn't want to cry, but the sob had come out of nowhere. The past three days have been a nightmare and then some. Now Joel was sure that he was paying for all of his sins. Paying in the most brutal ways.

Dragging you away from the field was the second hardest thing Joel ever had to do. He could only pray that his arms would not let him down as he pressed you closer to his body. Joel wasn't sure what they injected into your neck once you reached an army van and practically ripped out the eyes of the soldier who tried to help you into the vehicle, but you collapsed immediately. Joel barely managed to catch you. He pressed your unconscious body against his. Just like he had for the past hour or so. Praying and hoping that you weren't gone. Joel couldn't lose all three of you. Now you were all he had to fight for. No matter how much pain he was in himself. Joel had to drag you both out of the darkness.

Then he sat in the chair next to your bed. If you could even call it that. When they had ushered everyone underground, Joel had bribed a nurse to give you three a room and make sure that a doctor would come to check you. At that time, the price didn't matter. He needed an answer. Needed to know that you were going to wake up. High dose of sedatives - the doctor had said. "But I doubt it'll keep her out for long. After two kids… My apologies. If I'll find any medication", he had placed a supportive palm on Joel's shoulder. Something that would also end up feeling so foreign soon.

If Joel thought seeing you unconscious was difficult, it didn't compare to the heartbreak he had to endure the moment you opened your eyes. You jolted with a gasp. Eyes jumped across the room as you tried to figure out where you were. "Love…", Joel stood up, slowly approaching you. "Sarah… Malakai," you murmured as you continued to look around. "How about a glass of water, huh?", Joel asked, hoping to sway the topic. But you pushed the blanket off your body. "Sarah and Malakai," you repeated. Joel clenched his jaw. "Sarah and Malakai," "Love, stay in bed," Joel put his hands on your legs, stopping you from pushing them over the edge. "Sarah…Malakai", you said once again, eyes looking up at Joel, "They killed them. I saw… I saw," you breathed out, pressing a finger to your forehead where the bullet had pierced your son's skull. "I know, baby, I know", Joel tried to gently hold onto you, but the moment his palms touched your arms, you let out the loudest scream. Pushing him away as you turned to the other side of the bed. You dragged your feet over the cold concrete. Sinking to the floor without even being able to take a step forward. Joel rounded the bed as he kneeled in front of you.

"They are dead," you cried out, pulling at Joel's shirt, "My babies… I need to go, I need to…", you tried to pull yourself up by using Joel to brace yourself, but that only made you glance down at your hands, which were still slightly stained by the dried blood that had been on them. "Y/N, you need to calm down. Or they will come in here and", but you paid Joel no mind as you pulled your hands up so you could look at them.

"Get it off," you whispered, "Get it off," pushing your arms towards Joel as you screeched. Joel had scrubbed your unconscious body for hours. There was nothing more he could do. "Joel, get it off," you said once more, tears spilling from your eyes, and Joel couldn't bring himself to do anything. "It's everywhere, get it off", you moved your hand to rub at your skin. All you saw was blood. Blood everywhere. Rubbing turned into scratching, and soon your nails were raking over your skin. Joel quickly caught both of your wrists in his hands. Shaking you slightly as if in hopes of making your return to your senses. "Make it stop", you cried out, hallow eyes looking at Joel. "There's nothing on your hands, love", he barely managed to sound somewhat like himself. But you just shook your head at him, "There's blood all over them. Our kids' blood, Joel."

That was a day ago. Now you just lay there. Leafless. No movements. Eyes blinking once in a while. The only indication that you were still alive. Now Joel wished you would scream. The silence was torture. It was too loud. It pulled you so far away from him. Tommy clapped his brother on the back a couple of times before pulling away. "Get her ready. I'll look at how to get the best spot for you and make sure you two stay together," Joel said nothing. He hoped his eyes said enough. "You look after her. We'll get her back up on her feet," Joel could tell that even if Tommy tried to keep it somewhat positive, he didn't fully believe it himself. Didn't believe that there was any coming back from this. Nor did he believe that you would ever be the same. But Joel nodded anyway.

"Hey", Joel ran a hand over your forehead, once he stepped back into the little room, but didn't get a single movement in return. Not that he was expecting it. "We will have to get you dressed, okay? Then we'll need to go somewhere," Joel said, carefully pulling the blanket off your body before reaching for your clothes. Clothes he had washed. Wash off your kids' blood. Blood that seemed never-ending.

You were shivering. It hadn't stopped ever since you were brought in the first QZ. It had died down a bit. But there wasn't a moment when the quivering stopped. Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead as he walked through the corridor. Everyone was on high alert, and the soldiers were tired. Jumpy even. More than one person was killed here simply in the aftermath of unimaginable stress and anxiety. They only let healthy, strong people stay. Anyone with any injury, even the slightest one, was shot. You needed to stand on your own two feet. Walk through the lines of different specialists. Prove yourself worthy of surviving. And even that didn't guarantee you anything. You could have been hit by a bullet at any point.

You, however, were in no condition to stand. There was no way you could walk, much less talk. "Keep your head at the crook of my neck, love", Joel guided your head to rest there, "I will not let go of you even for a second. No one who will approach us will take you away from me," and at this point, Joel wasn't sure if he was still reassuring you or if it had turned to self-reassuring now. With the help of the doctor who assisted you just as you were brought here. They filed the documents of you having a miscarriage. Right here at the QZ. A piece of paper that had the main doctor's signature and forbade you from walking. That had high dosages of medicine marked as a fallacious move by the doctor itself. That you were more than a healthy female before that, and that you would regain that strength once the medication wore off. The only hope Joel had of getting you out of here alive was that piece of paper. And if that didn't work… Well, Joel was ready to kill anyone who stood in his way.

"Joel," Ellie's sad voice pulled the male out of the trance, "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." Joel rested his palms on his knees, ready to stand up, but Ellie quickly inched forward. It seemed to her that the man in front of her was no longer the same Joel she knew. "How did you… how did you get through that?", she knew the question was stupid. Joel let out a sad chuckle followed by a painful sigh, "You don't even have an idea how much strength you have until you are forced to use it. That's when you truly see your power". Joel had locked his pain away. Behind a plethora of locks, doors, and crevices. So no one could see it. No one could access it. Draped a shield of coldness on top of it. The coldness made Joel seem more like an animal than a human. He had to become a monster in order to protect the only thing that kept his heart beating. Nothing was off-limits when it came to you.

"I felt like I was failing every day. Every day that I saw her lying there," Joel shook his head at the images that haunted him. The feeling of helplessness flowed through him. Joel had found a woman who could pretend to be you for the time being. Who could take your evening shifts. Who kept the target off your back. No one was allowed to lay around in the QZ, there was too much work as it was. "Joel you were far from failing her", Ellie said putting her hand on Joel's palm, "It feels different kiddo when you see someone you love drifting away".

All the worried looks that Joel would give you made sense now. All the times he would walk up to you. Taking a hold of your hand as he looked at you. Moving to kiss your hands at the time, if not that then, Joel would just hold them in his much bigger palms. At the time, Ellie thought that by doing that, Joel was just trying to warm them up during the cold evenings, but now it had a way bigger meaning behind it. That was Joel's silent attempt to make sure that you stayed with him. That you wouldn't drift away. Like a true guard at night, standing his watch. Always ready to fight for you.

"And I felt horrible that I left him all alone", the sound of your voice made the two of them turn toward the door. "I kept on telling myself to get up. You need to do that for Joel, but…", you shrugged your shoulders. Joel reached his arm towards you, and you instantly walked close to him. Settling down on his lap. His arm snaked around your middle as Joel pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. "I never blamed you for it," Joel whispered, looking straight into your eyes. "I know because you're an angel." You cupped his face gently. Leaning in to press your forehead to his. Brushing your fingers under Joel's eyes as you wiped away the last tears.

This man was everything. If you'd fallen for him and his sense of humor back then. The fact that there was never a dull moment with him that even the most serious moments could be turned into fits of laughter. If you had fallen for how attentive and caring he was toward your kids. The way he always put them first. The way he sat in the bathroom for hours learning how to braid Sarah's hair or how he played astronauts with Momo even after the longest shift. Putting him over his shoulder or back as he ran around the living room making all sorts of noises. Then Joel turned into a rock—a whole mountain that shielded you from the restless sea that threatened to drown you. Never moving. Never scared.

"I don't want you to feel like we've been using you as some sort of… as our kids' replacement. The love I feel towards you…" you started, but Ellie quickly shook her head. "How could I? No, Y/N never," she said quickly, and you reached for her hands. "You are a special girl, Ellie, so special," you said as you brushed your fingers over her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. Trying to savor it for as long as possible. "You both are like my parents and I've never felt that..", Ellie's bottom lip trembled. Joel reached out to her as well.

"And you are our girl," Joel said, his voice shaky, but he knew he had to say it. Had to let her know that his coldness toward her at the start was just his defensive response. His fear of the unknown. The fear of it all ending the same. But Joel knew that once his nightmare shifted and he started to see Ellie dying in Sarah's or Momo's place, he knew that she had sneaked past his guard. Ellie had managed to find that well-hidden spark inside Joel's heart. And there was nothing that could have been done about it.

Ellie wrapped her hands over both of your shoulders, pulling you both into a hug. A light cry slipped from her lips. Your hand instantly moved to rub her back in hopes of soothing her. Joel pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head before turning his eyes to you. Your teary eyes were already looking back at him. You mouthed a silent "I love you" to him, which Joel returned straight away, followed by a light smile.

Once Ellie pulled away, you both looked at her with fondness. "Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn't have to, but you did," she said, as you rubbed away her tears the same way you had done before. "You are a part of the family now. Family doesn't have secrets," you said softly. "Plus, I think me and Y/N both needed closure", you nodded your head at Joel's words. You had told him multiple times that it was eating you alive that you were keeping this way from Ellie. You could tell that she sensed that something was wrong; she just never asked.

"Do you want to see a picture of them?", you asked, turning to Joel, who you knew had kept a picture of you four. The one he always carried around with him. Tommy had taken it on Momo's second birthday. The summer was in full swing, so you decided to have a barbecue outside. You stood there in a flowy dress, laughing at Sarah, who had a surprised look on her face since Joel had rubbed barbecue sauce on her cheek. Joel's head was thrown back as he laughed. Even Momo, who was nestled in your arms, had somewhat of a grin on his face.

"Sarah would have loved you", Ellie lifted her eyes away from the picture to the sound of Joel's voice. You hummed in agreement, "Momo would have been all over you as well you two cheeky bunch would have gotten into so much trouble". Ellie glanced back down. The image that she saw frozen in front of her seemed almost impossible compared to the two people she had met. But now she knew more than better to not judge the book by its cover. The deepest and most painful scars were always hidden the deepest.

"I would have loved to know them", Ellie said dragging her finger over their faces, "Momo, looks like a minute version of Joel". You let out a little laugh, "That's what I said. Imagine how mad I was after carrying him for nine months and he popped out looking nothing like me". Joel cracked a smile, looking down at the photograph himself. The one he barely pulled out these days.

"If we stay in Jackson, we must build them memorial stones and plant flowers all around them," Ellie said firmly. The tears picked up at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at her. "That's a really beautiful idea, Ellie bear," you said, running your fingers over her hair. Joel nudged Ellie's side playfully, making her let out a chuckle before he brought you closer to him once again. Time healed scars, even if slowly. But you two were here and now you had Ellie by your side. Your hearts, even if covered in scars, still beat for one another. Together, you were capable of anything and everything. Life has already proven that.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal imagine

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partycatty · 1 month

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kenshi > read my mind

sitting across the table from your boyfriend at sun do's royal dinner, filling his mind with terrible images...

warnings: ur a horndog, exhibitionism ig, SWITCH KENSHI NATION RISE UP!

notes: this was inspired by @crimsonbubble 's post about kenshi's telepathy... absolute genius... also please pretend he's got sento here or something idfk just bear with me please i'm in heat LMAO. funny side note i had to rewrite this after finishing it to tweak some details, namely that i forgot kenshi CANNOT FUCKING SEE.

[ masterlist ]

• there was a mutual agreement between you and kenshi, no funny business in outworld lest the entirety of earthrealm be damned to your reputation. this was a doable task, you and kenshi were disciplined and well-mannered, like two cute little peas in a very stoic pod.

• however, when you're sat at the long table, syzoth on your left and johnny on your right as you tear apart a roasted bird, you find yourself salivating at the sight of kenshi swirl a glass of red wine with interest. how is it that everything he does is so effortlessly sexy? your chewing slows and you swallow thickly.

• kenshi must have felt your burning gaze, considering his familiarity with it, and his head flicks up to meet yours.

• you look really hot tonight, you try to think as coherently as you can but your mind wanders faster than you can control, and you're envisioning kenshi throwing that roasted bird and glassware to the floor as he fucks you stupid there and then, using your hole as his personal stress relief as he pins you hard to the table. kenshi chokes on his wine, fists clenching as his head tilts downward to avoid staring at you and spiraling his own mind any further.

• the illuminated figures of his friends surrounding kenshi don't seem to pick up on his flushed state, too entranced in their meals to properly notice anything off.

• what's the matter? you toy with him innocently, leaning over the table to tear the leg from the bird and let your breasts spill out and settle atop the table. how he wishes he could see the flush of your skin, the way your outfit compliments your figure so well. don't get too heated, someone will notice.

• you stick your finger in your mouth, sucking away the flavor of the food as you look directly at him with low lids. you had to commit to this, whatever your goal was it surely couldn't have ended well for you.

• there was so much room under the table, a dark part of you snickers as you envision crawling under the table and freeing his surely solid cock, swirling your tongue around his tip and digging your nails into his thigh, reminding him to keep quiet.

• "stop," kenshi mouths at you, shoulders tense as the spirits probe your mind and fill him with evil thoughts. you reach your foot underneath the tablecloth and confirm what you suspected when your sole pressed into his bulge, making him gasp before covering his mouth.

• seems like you don't want me to, you coo into his mind, applying just enough pressure to make him jump. you're all hard and needy for me, aren't you? wish you could just fuck my pretty pussy until i'm nothing more than a drooling mess?

• syzoth is startled by kenshi's thighs bumping the table, brows knitting as he eyes down kenshi's shivery state. "are you alright?" he inquires, tilting his head.

• "no need to worry, syzoth," you insist, while simultaneously conjuring up images of kenshi stuffing his inked fingers so deep in your cunt you cream over them. "kenshi is just a little under the weather as of late."

• your strained grin seems to convince him well enough to drop the subject, turning back to his plate of bugs. your head turns, now grinning at your extremely flustered boyfriend.

• "stop it," he mouths again, squeezing your foot between his thighs. that does nothing, of course, as he immediately is flooded once again with your thoughts of settling between his thighs, squishing your cheek on one while pumping his length with a hand. his throat clears, maybe a bit louder than intended.

• i want you so bad, your lashes flutter, your food a forgotten part of the process. you make me so wet, kenshi, it's so hard to focus when i just want you to use me.

• you giggle to yourself. kenshi's cock is so strained against his dress pants he wondered if he might just pass out or break his zipper. the thoughts of him splitting you open make your own thighs clench, rubbing together to release any tension you'd built. your panties undoubtedly damp, clit throbbing and needy, all of which you project into his head with a sly grin.

• fuck me open on this table, you halfheartedly propose. split me and make everyone know what a whore i am for that dick, pretty boy. i'll ride you so fucking good you won't even remember your own name, is that what you want? you want my thighs around your head when you eat me out? you make me cum so hard, kenshi, you and only you gets me so horny like this, i can barely contain it.

• simultaneously dirty talking through your minds and creating images and scenes that no doubt will send you to hell was far too much for kenshi, especially in public. he stands harshly, his chair screeching against the floor which thankfully draws enough attention away from him to allow him to adjust himself quickly in his pants, tugging his top down further in hopes that somehow, someway his massive cock could be hidden enough.

• "please excuse me," kenshi mutters, bowing deeply. "i believe i am unwell."

• "could we offer you anything?" kitana stands with him, eyes wide with concern. "tea, perhaps—?"

• kenshi bows his head, shaking it slightly. "that won't be necessary princess, though i appreciate it."

• after everyone finishes exchanging funny looks, nobody seems to really notice the sly glint in your eye as your head follows his movements. he walks around the table, having to pass you in the process. his hands sweep behind your hair and cup the back of your neck gently as he leans down to mumble something in your ear. nobody thinks to question the gesture, as it is common knowledge you two were together. what he says though, is so heinous you hope outworld abilities don't include superhearing.

• "you're fucking done for," he mutters, nails digging into the sides of your neck ever so slightly. "you're paying for making me this hard later."

• he pulls away before you could even consider replying, walking off as the click of his dress shoes lessen in volume. the dinner resumes, though johnny leans into your other ear.

• "what's his problem?" johnny asks obliviously, watching kenshi exit. "he's always got a stick up his ass... no offense."

• "none taken," you reply sweetly, turning to face him. "i believe he's just feeling a little sickly."

• "outworld germs?" johnny chuckles, leaning back in his chair. you shrug, looking at the bird again.

• "maybe it was the food."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #mortal kombat smut #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takahashi smut #marley writes ☆

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dreamauri · 10 months

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♪ — 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖 𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗗 - part three max verstappen x girlfriend! driver! reader (angst+smut ) “. . . the universe might hate you after all. after a week of rest and recovery with max, you get bad news before your race.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( previous | next )

"S-slower." You whimpered in between hungry kisses. Your body was at its limits, pressed up face against the shower walls with max's chest tight on your back. The cool water was falling on you, doing nothing to help with the with the burning feeling you felt.

"Max, please." You whined reaching up to hold his hand that was resting against the wall. "I can't. 'S too much." "You've taken me before, liefje. You can do it again." Max said in your ear huskily. He took your hand without hesitation.

His free hand turned your head back to face him, pulling you in a passionate kiss. Bouncing with each thrust, you felt like you were going to be ripped apart, like you were set on fire. You were getting closer and max could feel it, turning you around so your back was on the wall and your chests pressing on each other.

The blond continued to attack your lips, holding you up by your thighs. You did the only thing you could, gripping onto his back and shoulders with your legs wrapped around his abdomen. "Ik hou van jou." Max whispered in your ear, looking at you as you panted on his chest, a moaning and squirming mess.

You had no idea what that meant and were too out of it to realize. You were crashing, scratching into your boyfriend's back as he fucked you through your orgasm, slowing down as you relaxed in his arms. It made his heart melt feeling you melt into him, making him repeat the phrase again. "ik hou van jou."

Max felt incomplete when he pulled out, he couldn't have enough of you. Gently setting you down on your knees and hands, taking you doggy style. "Max, I can't go again." You pleaded, reaching back and trying to push on his chest weakly. "Schatje, please. I'm almost there."

How could you say no to him, he's made you cum three times already prior to the last one. "Just not inside." You stuttered whimpering, too overstimulated. Tears welled in your eyes as you did your best to stay still for him. "Brave meid." [good girl] he praised kissing the spot behind your neck.

You leaned into his touch, turning a little to face him while you cupped his cheek. He pressed his nose into your cheek closing his eyes, concentrating on you and only you. He pulled out, cumming after a few strokes with a grunt.

Your boyfriend caught you by your stomach before you would lose all your strength and fall. Pulling you on his lap, he leaned your head against his chest as he pressed kisses along your jaw and neck. Close to passing out, you held Max's hand. "Thank you." He whispered in your ear kissing the back of your hand.

He loved this side of you, one where the media and the sports world were forgotten. All the tough races and unlikable moments, gone. Where it was just you, his girlfriend. Letting her guard down around her boyfriend. He also loved that he was able to get you to relax a bit, you deserved it.

Max gently washed your hair, earning a hum from you as he gently cleaned your body. Once you were both clean and dry, you were back on your shared bed ( one that you had moved to sleep in recently ) cuddled up against max's taller figure. "Why do you think ladybugs are called ladybugs?" You asked out of no where making max chuckle pressing a long soft kiss to your cheek. "And do you think there are gentlemen bugs? Would they be black and white?" You continued to ask, starting a comfortable conversation with your lover, sharing a few well earned laughs.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hey, dad. Where's mama?" You asked your father once you saw him. "Forget about the old hag, she's getting her son." He answered, starting to make his way to the paddock. You pursed your lips watching him go.

"Not even a 'Hello, daughter. How are you'." You mumbled in annoyance, starting to follow him. "I heard that." He warned, making you zip your mouth.

"What position are you aiming for today?" "Minimum P1. Hopefully Max stays out of the way and isn't too much of a hassle." You joked feeling way lighter. "No way, P1's mine." You heard Max say as he passed by you. You turned around to look at him, a soft smile on your face. "I called dibs already, he's going to have to give in." You told the reporter waving Max off.

The paddock could feel the lift in your moon, although you weren't completely back to the ball of sunshine you used to be as a rookie, you were almost half way there, spending a week with Max did you good ( no you two weren't fucking the whole time he took you out surfing and to get cupcakes ).

"You look awfully happy, is the accident not relative?" What the- You were shocked hearing those words, so early into the new interview as well. "Excuse me? What accident?" You frowned at the man, anger and confusion clear in your tone. 'am i not allowed to be happy anymore?' was what you thought.

"Your mo-" "Thank you, but we have to go." Your PR manager excused pulling you out of the interview pen. "What happened? What accident?" You asked her once you got out of earshot. "It's nothing, they are just trying to get in your head. Don't listen to them."

You brushed it off walking with her to your garage. It was only 10 minutes before the race did you go through the messages on your phone while sitting in the car. 'Your mother passed.' The message read. You understood what that meant, and it felt heart wrenching.

You tried several times to get out of the car, but the only person holding you in was yourself. You felt numb. Watching the lights flicker red one by one, your breath was heavy and you could hear your heart beat in your ears, taking one last blink before the race.

When you opened your eyes you were parked in front of the P1 spot, your team cheering in front of you. What happened? Was the race over already? "Hey! You okay?" Someone patted your shoulder, shouting so you can hear him through your helmet. "Yes." You lied, stuttering over your words.

You don't remember any detail from the race, not the battle for p2 nor p1, not the pitstop nor driving in the rain. It seems you were sitting in the car for too long because Charles in P3 was delivering his short interview. Fumbling with the seat belt and the steering wheel, you hopped out shakily, weakly. You weren't able to support your weight falling onto your knees, putting your head on the ground as you sobbed.

You felt more heartbroken than any of your losses or incidents. Stumbling to your feet, you walked shakily to your team who hugged you patting your back and helmet gently. You were pulled away from them shortly for the interview. Your figure was on the big screen, a camera following you as you took your helmet and balaclava off.

"That was an aggressive race today. But you made it to P1, congratulations." The interviewer asked, trying to lighten up the mood. "I honestly don't remember anything at all. I must have blacked out." You stuttered over your letter and words, you looked like a mess, trying to hold in a sob. Tears trickling down your eyes like waterfalls. Your face was flushed and nose red.

"Really?" "Yeah." "You had an amazing battle with Sainz, Leclerc, and Max. You were leading the race 32 seconds ahead of everyone, and were quite a bit aggressive." "Yeah?" You breathed out nodding, not really listening.

Once you stepped into the cool down room, you broke down, crying like an idiot. Max was quick to reach seeing you reaching for him, getting off the chair and crushing you in his arms. You gripped the fabric on his back, sobbing into his chest while he held the back of your head.

The camera in the room was of course capturing everything, but that was a problem to deal with for later. He leaned his forehead against yours. He only just found out about the news a few minutes ago after the race and heard about your blackout through the speakers.

Max understood why you had such an aggressive behaviour now. And he forgave you before you apologized.

Once it was time for the podium you found yourself crying half way through your anthem. The crying wasn't stopping, not even so you could receive your trophy and medal in peace. You kissed the trophy and put it to your forehead, dedicating this to your mother who helped you reach your dream.

You found yourself hugging Max again. The man patting your back as he took both champagne bottles and walked off stage with you. News about you two dating was going to be out any second now.

You were soon sitting on his lap hugging him in the red bull garage. You were a contrast to the navy, yellow and orange theme in your red, black and gold suit (which max told you he found you attractive in previously ). "You hungry?" He asked, you only shook your head in return knowing you wouldn't be able to keep it down.

Max was passed a water bottle. He was kind enough to open the flask before handing it to you. You had to force yourself to take several gulps before giving it back. "You had me worried." You looked back, seeing your dad.

He took a seat beside Max, pulling you into his lap and giving you one of his rare hugs which made you even more emotional. "She would be so proud of you. You've come so far and she wouldn't want anything more than that."

"I'm sure she's cheering on heaven right now because that was a very good overtake in lap 46." Max complemented taking your hand and kissing the back of it, trying to make you feel better. You smiled at your boyfriend, feeling just a bit better. Your mom would've loved that overtake.

"Hands off my daughter, Verstappen." Your father scoffed, pulling your further from your lover." You only chuckled as Max put his hands up in surrender, looking at you with love in his eyes.

"Go do something worthwhile that is not my daughter." Your dad shooed making Max groan and stand up. "It's my garage." He mumbled as he waked away.

"Your mother and I love you so much." Your dad's voice echoed through your ears as you walked outside of the paddock, holding the back of Max's shirt so you don't lose him through the crowd that was following you two concerning the topic of your relationship.

No one would've thought that you two would be together since your families have a history of rivalry. Your dad and jos have been battling each other since 1994 and only one out of the two drivers was able to win all the races.

You understood why they couldn't get along, and that scared you deeply.

768 notes · View notes

rexlroze · 1 month

Text

𝟏 — 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, no physical description of reader (other then their clothing), Swearing, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of bugs, Violence/Fighting, and mostly Fluff I think.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: This is my first time EVER writing a proper fanfic so if it sucks. Yeah. Idk- I tried my best tbh and hope y'all like it cuz if not, idk either. I'll be doing a tag list so if you want in, uh. Comment or sumn ig. Leave tips for me to improve in areas you think I need improvement! Also this isn't exactly canon to Earth-138. It's set in the early 2000s cuz no way am I writing for the fucking 1960s or whatever fuckin' year that mf comes from. I don't do requests nor do I plan on doing so. Happy Reading! 💛

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Recently, you just moved out of your parents house into a small cozy apartment in the North of London. About 200 miles away from your mummy and daddy dearest.

“No ma, I've already rented out my parlor. 'm not changing my mind at the last minute.” You grumbled into your phone as your mom hounded you with questions about literally everything. Your health, food, water, apartment and your new parlor.

Your new parlor, you were proud to say. You had finally rented out a small shop in Camden which was about a 10 minutes walk away from your apartment.

The only problem was that the area where your shop was grounded, it was in a small narrow area where people barely passed by and only a few residents lived and since you couldn't really afford a better place due to the flies that flew out of your wallet when you opened it and your limited budget, you just had to deal with it.

“Just know, if you ever need anything sweetie, me and your pops are always here.” Your mother reassured you sweetly but you could hear the concern trailing behind her voice.

“Yeah thanks, ma. Love you, and dad.”

“Love you too, sweets. But if you need anything like money, food or even—”

“Ma.” You cut her off abruptly.

“Yes?”

“I'll be fine, alright? I love you.”

“We love you too, sweetie.” She finally answered after a second of hesitation.

With that, you hung up the phone. Beeps punctuated the silence hanging in your room before you let out a deep sigh.

You sunk into your bed, looking up at the ceiling. As supportive your parents tried to be, they didn't really trust you with your career choices. The first time you told them you wanted to be a body piercer, they laughed and brushed it off… that was until they figured out you were being 100% serious.

You were grateful they didn't try to stop you, not directly at least because they never failed to mention and suggest a few other paths of careers. They got to the point of getting so desperate that they even suggested acting school but alas, you were as stubborn as a mule.

You got your license around 2 months ago. You can still remember yourself squealing and hopping around in your (old) room like a five year old who just got a puppy for Christmas. You couldn't wait to finally quit your side job (which was being a boring cashier with fake smiles and a faker kindness towards the karens that walked in and ruined your Monday mornings) and start your own little business in London. Your literal dream.

I'll get to work tomorrow. You thought to yourself since it was pretty much late afternoon now, turning the next 3 hours into a continuation of scrolling on your phone, listening to music on blast from the speakers sitting by your desk and knocking yourself out with some cheap bottle of booze that you bought during your ride to your apartment from the airport.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Making your way through the streets of Camden, you didn't fail to see the liveliness of it. People busy with their own lives, friends giggling, children skipping, couples holding hands, staring at one another with heart eyes.

Something squeezed your heart at the sight of the adorable couple. It reminded you of what you could've had with him if he hadn't… but unfortunately, what life throws at you isn't really under your control no matter how much you wish it could be.

You brushed off the nostalgia quickly and turned a corner, finding your parlor that you had rented about a week ago. You were met by sudden silence. The streets were quiet and empty other then the two teenage boys who were giggling and had run away after when you arrived, disappearing into a narrow alleyway.

You walked to where they previously stood just to see a poster. Specifically a band poster that was vibrant with different colors. A lanky punk boy posed in the middle of the poster with a guitar slung over his shoulder accompanied by three other members.

You couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of said punk boy. Honey-coated eyes that shone back at you, the color complimenting his ebony complexion along with his puffy jet-black hair that were braided into wicks, jawline so sharp that it made you wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along them.

You shook your head, breaking the love trance you were stuck in. You didn't have time for dating, falling in love or whatever, not that you wanted to either. Your eyes zeroed on the big font at the bottom of the page.

“Spidersica, performing this 9th March at 9:30pm.” You read out loud to yourself. Almost 2 weeks away. Shrugging, you turn back to your shop. You'll decide what to do with that information on a later date.

You twisted the door knob that was attached to the black sleek door with the obscure glass window adorning it. The gold paint was scraping off the knob revealing the silver underneath. Besides that, when you turned the knob, the door didn't budge. You twisted it once more. Nothing. You pushed the door while twisting the knob the third time. Nothing again.

Slamming your body against the door in frustration, making the door burst open and you fall through it onto the cemented flooring. The bell atop the door chimed, swinging back and forth, mocking and taunting you.

Get the door fixed, you made a mental note as you pushed yourself up back onto your two feet. Running a hand over your T-shirt and straightening it.

You scanned the room, eyes roaming over the unused facility. Cobwebs decorating the corners of the roof, dust bunnies waving at you from the floor, old cream wallpaper peeling off the walls revealing the cemented wall beneath, the polluted air making you have a cough fit after you inhaled some dust accidentally.

Unshed tears pricked your eyes as your coughing fit wore off after a little while. “This could use some renovations,” you croaked out to no one in particular as you switched the light switch on.

The light bulb lit up producing a very bright light (brighter than normal) that illuminated the room. At least something works— your train of thought was cut off when the light bulb abruptly exploded.

“Just had to jinx it,” you grumbled, placing your hand onto your face.

You found your way to some curtains beside the door, pulled the long dirty brown pieces of linen apart, revealing a huge window that let the warm sunlight seep in and lighten the dark room. You slid the windows up to let the toxic air out and fresher air in.

Get the curtains replaced. You noted down somewhere in your brain as you took in the hideous pattern of the curtains.

You walked around the shop, letting your hand trace the long wooden counter that extended from the wall. Dust collecting at your fingertips that you wiped off on your shirt.

Making your way through the shop, you found a recessed door that was fixed into the left wall on the opposite side of the parlor. You gently turned the door knob not wanting to repeat the incident that transpired a few minutes ago. It opened without a fight.

When you peeked your head in, you found yourself in a small closet room. Metal shelves up against both sides of the wall with various random and dirty objects decorating them. The closet was just as filthy as the rest of the shop.

You found boxes, some small, some large sitting at the other end of the closet. That must be the furniture! You think, making your way towards them.

As you pick up one of the boxes carefully, wrapping both arms around the box that was bigger than your own head. You suddenly yelped falling back on your butt, the box falling into your lap.

“Fuck no!” You screeched in horror as you saw a cockroach fly up in the air. “Nononononono.”

You dashed out the closet, almost tripping on your shoe laces that came undone who knows when, slamming the door shut so the pesky rodent wouldn't escape and terrorize the rest of your shop as well. “What the fuck!”

Mental note 3, get pest fucking control. So far, the day was not going as planned.

You released a deep breath pulling your phone out from your back pocket to check for damage. You've never been more grateful for the invention of phone cases in your life. You doubted your phone could bear another crack on it's already kinda-fucked-up screen.

Pocketing your phone once again, your hands rested on your hips. You stared at the floor trying to calm down. “Fuckin’ hell,” you murmured to yourself rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm.

You kicked off your left shoe and turned back to the closet, mentally preparing yourself for the battle your a lifetime.

—

After fighting for your life and clearing out your closet of any other unpleasantries that may surprise the living Christ out of you, you pulled out your phone and began typing in some to-dos into the notes app. Tile installment, cleaning, probably pipe replacement, a door fix, bulb and wiring replacement, paint, decoration and all that stuff with the budget of five fucking hundred pounds. Just yay.

You left the parlor with determination to accomplish your goal; renovate. You thought as you found your way through the door and back on the streets of Camden.

In a matter of a few hours, you had managed to hire a few mechanics and workers to, one, install marble floorings into the parlor, two, get any pipelines or such fixed, three, get all cracks and crevices in the walls plastered, four, fix the door lock, and fix, rewire and reinstall the lightbulb. All in the cost of four hundred and thirty pounds, and with the seventy pounds left, you could buy the paint, curtains, and other pleasantries as such.

Walking through the appliances stores, your phone on hand as you check off a few to-do boxes. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest to see how much you had done in the matter of a day.

A small smile spread across your face as you made your way towards the next shop when a sudden boom behind you made you stop in your steps.

Screams fill the air but they're tuned out by the sudden high-pitched ringing in your ears. People passed by you running towards the exit and evacuating while you just stood there, unable to move for some reason when finally, your head snapped towards the chaos to see what everyone was running away from.

Green Goblin. You had seen him on the news whenever you scrolled on your phone for too long or when you scrolled through the TV channels and ended up on the news channel but never did you think you'd see him in real life but if the Green Goblin was here then…

Abruptly, the villainous individual who was flying abounding on his hoverboard and terrorizing everyone in the mall was knocked off by a swift kick. The one who delivered it was quick, you only saw the red and blues colors blurring together. Oh my fucking god, no way.

Slowly, the blurs of color started mashing together into an appropriate form. It's Spider-Punk. THE fucking Spider-Punk. And you were seeing him not through tv, but through your own goddamn eyes.

You watched as the Green Goblin regained his composure and lunged towards Spider-Punk. The two vigilantes participating in a violent game of tango while you stood there wide-eyed and stuck amidst the chaos sitting in the front seat.

It didn't take long for both vigilantes to notice your presence. All at once, a shout broke out from the red masked punk, “move!” when a broken piece of the wall was thrown right in your direction by the one and only Green Goblin. You saw the white's of Spider-Punk's mask widen.

Move. An inner voice in your head screamed. You couldn't. Move, goddamnit! Nothing. It felt as time had slowed down.

The stone piece inches away from your face, ready to smash your skull in when suddenly a silky white rope connected to your side and pulled you towards it. A hand wrapped around your waist and suddenly, now you're in the air.

Your heart thumped in your ears from the sheer amount of adrenaline and fear coursing through you as the two of you swung out the appliance store.

Your arms were subconsciously wrapped around his neck, your face was buried into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. You peeked your head up to see yourself high up in the air, and a glimpse of blurred green chasing the two of you.

You sucked in a shaky breath, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart pounded, like it was gonna erupt from your chest anytime soon.

You felt heavy air hitting your back when he abruptly turned a sharp corner and now you're sitting on a dumpster in an alleyway who knows where with a vigilante in front of you checking for any major injuries.

“You alrigh’, love?”

It took you a minute to register his words due to the daze but you finally managed to choke out a “I'm fine,” your voice was slightly breathless but you didn't focus on that right now instead, you focused on the individual in front of you.

You quickly took in his wardrobe. A red spandex bodysuit, spiked mohawk, leather jacket, collar, spikes, nets, guitar, red boots, blue laces— blue laces? well damn…

“Aight, take a breather f'me, lovelie. ‘m gonna go deal w’him, ay? Take care!” He shouted, his voice fading as he ran towards the exit of the alley and swung away before you could manage another response.

…

What the fuck just happened?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You slowly recovered from the incident that happened just three days ago. An hour long face call with your parents who had seen you on the news swinging around in the arms of Spider-Punk. You lost count after sixteen of just how many times your parents had asked you if you were okay.

You had paid off the workers to get the job done while you were away, now you could only hope they hadn't robbed you and were currently flying to another state with your money.

You didn't have much left to do from your to-do list. The only thing you needed was some paint and furniture. You had ordered the paint (and paid) online, it would be at the door of your parlor in about a few hours. Or at least that's what the notification you gotten had said.

As you were currently laying in bed clicking away on your computer and chewing on the back of a pencil you randomly found in your backpack and an orange sofa that you found in your fridge, something ringed in your head.

Right!

The concert, you were supposed to look into it when you got home. Unfortunately, it had pretty much slipped your mind due to your little experience about a day ago.

You clicked away, opening a new tab, “Spi…der…si…ca… baa…nnd.” You pronounced each syllable carefully while you typed away.

Pushing down the enter button, you were met by a white loading screen that led you to another google page. You clicked the first link and found yourself on another website.

“A popular punk band in london with the following members: Karl Morningdew, the bass Guitarist, Riri Williams, the keyboardist and Mattea Murdock, the drumist followed by their BandLeader, Hobart Brown, the guitarist—” Your voice slowly faded out as you saw the image of a familiar punk boy pop up that you had gotten lost in just a few days ago outside of your parlor. “Huh.”

You scrolled through the website until your eyes settled onto the information you were looking for, “Spidersica, publicly performing on the 9th of March.” The information was followed by the location and other necessary details.

“Eh, screw it. I gotta socialize anyway,” you blurted out, clicking off the tab.

—

After finishing another can of soda, you finally had gotten ready to go back out after locking yourself in your house for the past forty-eight hours. Patting the pockets of your jeans to make sure you had your phone and keys in them, you escorted yourself through the door of your apartment.

You soon find yourself making your way down the three quarter turn stairs and back on the roads looking up in the sky for a particular rebellious masked vigilante.

You didn't know what for, maybe to thank him. Or maybe just curiosity at its finest. You shrugged the thoughts off and continued making your way to the parlor. You didn't have time for a cat and mouse chase where the mouse doesn't even know he's being chased.

After all, you were no one special. Just a normal everyday civilian whom his job was to protect.

Finally arriving at your parlor, it looked a lot less abandoned than it did when you arrived three days ago, the front door opening with ease when you pushed the keys in and twisted the knob which was also replaced. You could tell due to the shining new gold color coating it.

Polished white marble tiles installed in the once cemented flooring. The crevices in the walls were filled out along with the old cream wallpaper removed. An air conditioner was fixed into the wall above the recessed door, a fixed bulb and working electricity.

Those were some major improvements but that didn't change the fact the place was still filthy as fuck.

You sighed and grabbed a broom that rested in the corner of the closet, pulling your headphones over your head and began sweeping away.

—

After you finished sweeping, you decide to install the new curtains you had bought. They were a dark marengo made of a silky smooth material. As you tried to push the curtains into the metal pole, the bell aloft the door began chiming signifying somebody had arrived, when you turned the door, you were met by a man who stood in a blue-ish uniform, a clipboard in his hand while he tapped the back of a pen on it.

“Uh hello, delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That would be me.”

“Oh, please just sign here.” He turned the clipboard around to face you, offering you the ballpoint he had.

You walked over, taking the pen from his hand and signed the piece of paper where he had told you to.

He put the clipboard away, taking the pen back from you as he stepped out and came back in with a large box placing it down onto the tile flooring. “G’day, madam.”

He politely bowed his head while you let out a small “thank you” after he tilted his head back up and walked back out the parlor.

You picked up the box that was immensely heavy, probably because of the damn paint cans in them, Sherlock, you had just assumed they most likely were the paints you ordered.

When you turned away, placing the box onto the counter, suddenly the bell chimed once again. You spoke without looking up, “did you forget something, Mr.mailman?”

“Mailman? Hardly.” A familiar angelic voice spoke, making you freeze, Spider-Punk—? You thought as you turned to the voice with wide eyes, but to your surprise. It was someone completely different.

“You good, love? You look like you just seen a ghost.” Honey-coated eyes, ebony complexion, jet-black hair, sharp jawline, is that-?

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “are you Hobart Brown?” your voice was a higher pitch than usual but you couldn't help it. “Oh my god, what are you doing here—” you were abruptly cut off by him.

“Okay okay, I'm gonna cut you off right there, love, first of all. Just call me Hobie. Please.” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face, “and well, second of all, I heard you did piercings, hm?”

“Oh. Uh… okay then, Hobie. Yes. Yeah, I do piercings, why?” Well, that's a stupid question.

“I was wondering if you could do mine, because as you can see, my face is pretty clean.” He smiles softly, pointing to his face that didn't bear any piercings… yet.

“Oh yeah, um. I'm not really open yet—” you cut yourself off at a sudden realization. “Wait, how'd you find me?” You raised an eyebrow, you only remember telling everyone in your circle about the parlor yet.

“Oh, one of my friends told me.”

You raised your eyebrow higher, confusion bubbling in you. “Can I know their name?”

“Yuri.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Yuri? As in your goddamn BEST FRIEND Yuri?

“Yuri Watanabe?” You asked, expecting a no.

"You know her?"

Of course I know my damn best friend, dumbass! That's what you wanted to say, but instead you held your tongue.

“Well yeah, she's my best friend. We met at a bar back in York.” You didn't know why you were telling him, you didn't even know if you could trust him. After all, he was just a random stranger— sure he was famous or whatever but you still just found out about him like three days ago.

“Huh, I don't think she's mentioned you but nice to meet you, er…?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too, Hoba- Hobie.” You quickly corrected your small error.

“Y/N.” He looked like he was trying to remember something from a long time ago. Suddenly his eyes lit up, “oh yeah, she has mentioned you a couple times if I think about it.” He gave you a polite smile, “Do you need help? with whatever you're doing?”

“What?”

“I said do you want help?” He repeated, “seems like you could use some.” He observed, eyes roaming around your unfinished parlor.

“Do… are you looking for something in return?” You were confused by his sudden offer. He had to be wanting something in return, right? I mean, he learned your name like JUST a minute ago.

“Nah, just wanna help you out. Plus, you could prolly use some company, ay?”

“I mean… wait, why would you wanna do that? Aren't you busy with things like… practice or something.”

“Do you want help or not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” You answered with a small voice, biting down on your lip gently.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @hobieszeze @missshelleyduvall

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

158 notes · View notes

natti-ice · 2 months

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Sirius Black Blurb.

Pairing: Sirius Black x slytherin!gn!reader

Warnings: none.

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated<3

You couldn't believe this happened, of all people to get stuck with it had to be him. You received detention for accidentally falling asleep in Binns class, why were there so many Goblin rebellions? Now, you were standing in the middle of the woods in mid-November with Sirius Black.

For some reason, Sirius had taken a strong liking to you. You couldn't understand why though, it should be textbook rivalry since you're a Slytherin and he's a Gryffindor but he seems to believe you belong together.

Since term began he has been asking you to go to Hogsmeade, you were taken aback at first because you honestly didn't think he knew who you were. The first time you said no out of pure shock, but you also were afraid it was some sick joke.

Sirius is probably the most attractive boy in the school, you can't walk two feet without hearing some girls talking about his 'beautiful hair' but he also has a reputation. Not in the "heartbreaker" sense but in the "liking to play cruel jokes" sense, you've seen some of the pranks he's pulled around school, and you would not let yourself fall victim.

It was just starting to get cold in Scotland, the air was crisp as it slapped you in the face as you walked deeper into the forest. Sirius was by your side using his wand to guide you two through the dark path. It was just your luck that this week's detention was to gather food for whatever creature Hagrid decided to bring home this year. You never understood how any of those pets were legal.

You left your jacket in your dorm because some third year accidentally spilled her drink on you during dinner and it was completely soaked, it wasn't freezing so you figured you could bare through it but as it got later the wind picked up.

You shivered as another gust of wind hit you, you felt goosebumps forming up and down your arms.

"Take my jacket" Sirius said breaking the silence

"What?" you asked, you didn't realize he was watching you "I'm fine"

"You're cold." He told you, the look in his eyes was telling you to give it up

"Am not." You internally cringed at how juvenile you sounded

"Right" Sirius chuckled, disregarding what you just said Sirius took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders before you could refuse again.

You couldn't deny how good it felt, it was so warm and it was a little big so it felt like a giant hug.

"Now you'll be cold," you told him pulling the fabric closer to your body

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart" his voice was smooth and intoxicating

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, "Don't call me that" you said hoping he could hear nerves in your voice

"Did I do something to offend you?" Sirius asked, his tone wasn't telling but he truly cared how you felt about him, he hated that you were so closed off around him

"No" your tone softened

"Then why do you avoid me so much? I feel I must've done something to make you hate me" He laughed painfully

"I don't hate you, Sirius" by this point you two had completely stopped looking for that weird bug you couldn't remember the name of. "I'm just confused"

"About what?"

"The fact that you keep asking me out, I mean out of everyone? Me? Aren't we supposed to be sworn enemies?" You questioned

"Well, if you would've asked me that two years ago I would have said yes," he paused and read your expression before continuing "but that's all so childish now. I like you and I would really like to take you out" a boyish smile played across his lip.

You stayed silent taking in what he just said, as much as you didn't want to admit it you actually wanted to go out with him. You let out a small sigh

"Fine" you say "one date"

"Really?" the moonlight shone just right between the trees so you could see the sparkle in his eye as you finally agreed

"Yes Sirius, I'll go out with you" you fought back a smile but it inevitably won.

Before you knew it your feet had left the ground, Sirius spun you around in the air and then firmly placed you back on the ground. "You won't regret it, I promise" he said with a wide grin

You laughed at his eagerness as you tried to brush away the thought of how nice it felt to be in his arms.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x gn!reader #sirius black x slytherin!reader #sirius black fluff #marauders x reader #the maruaders

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strgrlxox · 11 months

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𓆞 something beautiful 🐚

🌊 ↺ okay it's been a whileee holy shit also i half-assed the proof-reading so if u see any mistakes...no u don't (be gentle w me, okay??) 😭:/ ❞¸

+ ¸ ❞ ellie's looking mighty edible in that picture also 🤤 ↺ 🌊

🌊 || SUMMARY :: your first time w ellie

🌊 || CONTAINS :: horny!reader lmao. take a hit every time i say the word "need" and ur lungs might explode. oral (r). fingering (e). unrealistic couch sex lmao.

🌊 || WORD COUNT :: 2.3k

she was absolutely lethal. perfect and methodical and addicting and lethal. all day, your mind raced with a million and one thoughts, all of which led back to ellie. always ellie. you needed her, desperately, and it killed you.

the relationship was fairly new, the two of you have never gone farther than a few heated kisses that only left you panting and starved. you were pretty good at maintaining your composure for the most part...but not today. not with the dream you had about her last night.

ellie had invited you over to hers, and even though something in your face seemed hesitant, you were quick to agree which she was overjoyed about. she had missed you and was excited to see you again.

even though you tried your best to mask it, ellie could still tell something was bugging you as soon as you stepped through the door. she could hear it in the way the door slammed shut, she could feel it when you threw your keys on the table near the entrance. you were ravenous, the desire to feel her growing much too persistent to ignore. you could only hope that maybe you'd get lucky, that she'd notice and take care of you.

unfortunately for you, ellie mistook your need for anger. she just assumed you had a bad day at work.

"are you okay?" she speaks gently, so softly it breaks you. you mumble a reply under your breath, not trusting your voice to conceal how you truly feel. your plan was to let the feeling fester until it (eventually) simmered down.

ellie, however, didn’t seem to agree with your unspoken “plan”. she had never seen you this dismayed. tired? of course. annoyed? sure. but whatever happened today left you in a state she couldn't quite pinpoint. she contemplates pushing until you tell her the root of the problem but decides against it, figuring you'll tell her when you're ready.

you sit next to her on the couch, doing your best to participate in conversation like you normally would...but fuck does she make it hard. why did she have to look so good?

she felt your stare. "what are you thinking about?" she asks in a sing song-y voice.

you, always you. you fought hard to shake the thoughts away, hating that her voice was silk and unknowingly seductive.

"babe?"

she's speaking but you can barely hear her over your thoughts.

"babe?" she calls out harsher to garner your attention. it reminds you of how it feels when she plays rough with you. pinning you down, straddling you. what always started as something silly quickly turned into a heated kiss after your laughs died down.

but there were gentler times also––––much more tranquil and dreamlike. like when she'd ask you to be still so she could craft your beauty onto a blank page or a bare canvas––––sometimes, she told you to pose so she could snap pictures of you on her camera or on her phone when she felt particularly sappy. she liked to look at them when she missed you but she'd never admit that to you.

"are you feeling okay?" the concern in her voice almost makes you laugh.

you hum.

"yeah, ellie. i feel fine." it's a lie, purely for survival. her eyes squint and she looks at you like she can see right through you, you really wish she could.

"i know when you're lying."

she waits for a response but you don't give one.

"just tell me what's wrong so i can fix it." she almost whines. you like the way it sounds, it only fuels your need. "let me help."

you shut your eyes and her hands cup your cheeks, the warmth of her palms spreading over your skin. you can hear it when she starts to speak again, words as gentle as her hands, but you cut her off.

"just kiss me, ellie." she seems caught off guard by the sudden request and hesitates. so with the sweetest voice you can muster, you whisper a soft. "please."

ellie groaned at the plea. the sound is primal and desperate. she could never deny you. not when you sounded so wanting––––so beautiful, so good. her hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling you into her as she leans in. you follow her mouth like it's magnetic. the kiss is passionate and intense, and you melt into her. you love the way she could always kiss you and make you forget everything––––how to stand and how to breathe. sometimes, when ellie would kiss you, you’d forget about all the air in the world except for what was in her lungs. you let your hands dance in her hair as you smile into her mouth, letting her taste you.

"i need you ellie." you pant against her open mouth and she listens to your every word with rapt attention. "i need you so bad."

she looks at you like you've answered her every prayer. swallowing deeply, breath fanning softly over your face. "are you sure?"

you groan, pulling her mouth to yours again just to taste her before pulling away.

"yeah, okay." she consumed your mouth again––––sucking your tongue into hers, pulling you as close to her as she possibly could. you straddle her lap, and you can feel the sharp intake of breath she takes when you let your kisses trail down her neck.

you whine against her skin before pulling back and tilting your head, giving her your neck to taste. her hands feeling all over your skin like she couldn't touch you everywhere at once. her palms are a comfort as they rub soothing circles on your hips. she can sense your overwhelming exhilaration and she's trying to calm you.

"tell me..." her breaths are heavy and her voice is filled with lust. "what you want or you get nothing."

you whimper, grinding your hips against hers once––––desperate for some kind of friction. "want you."

she smiles. "you already have me, baby––––you know that. try harder."

the whine that leaves your mouth is pathetic.

"i want you to fuck me. i wanna be embarrassed tomorrow because all i can think about is what you did to me and how much i loved it." you moan in her ear, it's thin and needy.

she inhales quickly, a slow shudder trailing over her body. "lay back for me, babe."

the groan in her voice is enough to catch your attention and compel you to obey her command. you let your body rest against the couch.

she is gentle. removing your shirt slowly and kissing softly on your exposed skin. leaving some marks as she trails down your body, lifting your skirt up over your hips. "can i taste you, baby?"

you hum at her, nodding eagerly. she chuckles up at you, placing a few chaste kisses on your left thigh before doing the same to your right. she moves your panties to one side, and you can't help but shiver at her heavy breaths against your core.

"fuck, baby," she's panting, lips agape as she lets her finger run over your entrance. "you're so wet, already..."

her gaze meets yours and though you want to, you can't bring yourself to look away. you look in her eyes and you can see the change. the moment when her want turned into need. when her craving for you grew past the point of return. "how long have you wanted this?"

you whimper, finally willing yourself to break away from her stare. "so fucking long."

she laughs again, shaking her head and then placing a little kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting. "you could've just asked, babe,"

she flattened her tongue, licking from your entrance to just below your clit before moving back down.

"i'll know––––" your voice gets caught on a moan when she lets the tip of her tongue flick across you. "fuck, i'll know for next time."

she hums into you, the vibrations make your eyes water. you shut your eyes, your chest heaving. because as good as you imagined sex with ellie would be, your imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. the way she holds your legs open so that she can devour you properly. how she sucks and licks and lets her fingers fuck into you. and when she looks up at you so that she can see all the pretty faces you make and you can see how fucking pussy drunk she looks. she moans into you, humping into the couch because the taste of you turns her on so much it aches.

you squirm when she sucks at your clit, hard then soft, but she maintains a strong grip on your thighs, keeping you firmly pressed into her mouth. she got a taste of you and she was fucking reeling, she wasn't gonna let you run.

"fuck, ellie." you whine again, your hand flying to her hair. "it feels so good, i'm so fucking close."

she flattens her tongue again before pulling away and letting her face rest on your thigh. you go to object but it turns into another moan when she starts to finger-fuck you harder. "yeah? i can feel you squeezing me."

you would've been embarrassed if it didn't feel so good.

"it's like you're trying to trap me inside you." she coos, her free hand still holding your thigh. "it's okay, i got you. let it all out for me."

and then her mouth is on you again, she's taking everything you have to give and begging you for more. all the tenderness in movements has vanished, it's quickly replaced with pure desperation. she's desperate to make you cum, to feel you tremble around her fingers, to taste the glories of your rapture. she needs it, maybe as much as you do. her fingers speed up and her tongue becomes more erratic. just sucking and licking like a woman gone mad until all you can do is slump in her hold and watch as she consumes you.

she's practically growling into your core, it says 'take it, take it, take it' and you comply. you take what she's giving you until it's all you can feel. until all the noises go away, you're whole body clenches, and you cum all over her face.

she licks it up greedily and you whine, trying to push her away.

"be still. this is what you wanted, isn't it?" it's the most forceful she's ever spoken to you but you don't think twice about whimpering in surrender. "you've made such a mess...someone has to clean you up, hm?"

so she does–––––licking you up, moaning into you until you're crying from the overstimulation and she takes pity on you.

"okay, sweet girl." she coos when she sits up and you're still trembling. "you did so good for me, taste so sweet."

you laugh weakly, reaching for her so that she can kiss you. she smiles into your lips. "your turn now."

she laughs, shaking her head. but you can look in her eyes and tell it takes everything in her to deny your request. "you don't gotta worry about me."

you pout tiredly letting your hands meet her waist so that you can unbutton her jeans. she breathes heavily into your mouth, while you tug the denim down her legs––––she helps you, shimming out of her pants. ellie climbs so that she's hovering over your lap. you shoved your hands into her boxers, face softening when she whimpers. your fingers rubbed soft circles over her already soaking clit. "are you sure you don't want me to help you?"

she's looking at you with pleading eyes, practically drooling over you.

"want your fingers, baby." she kisses you again, and you bite her lip. "wanna feel you inside me, please."

you're high off the contrast, how easily she could go from so demanding to begging for you. she kisses you again while you slide one finger inside her aching cunt, then one more. you give her your neck to grip while you make contact with her. you bite your lip at her look of embarrassment because of how easily your fingers slid in.

"holy shit," she moans out, louder than she probably meant to but your fingers are curled inside her just right and it feels so perfect. "fuck, baby, you feel so good."

you hum, picking up the pace and relishing in all the pretty sounds she makes, all the moans and gentle breaths of your name.

"you're so pretty, ellie."

"thank––thank you." she half laughs and half whimpers. "you're pretty too"

you smile up at her, picking up your pace a little. you curl your fingers into her and her lips mold into an 'o' shape as a long moan leaves her agape mouth.

"right there, baby?" you hum, observing the way her legs are already trembling.

"right," she hitches, her vision blacking out for a second. "there."

her mouth meets yours again so that you can taste her ecstasy. the closer she gets the slower her kisses grow until she's moaning against your lips and her legs are shaking through her orgasm. you rode it out for her before taking your fingers out of her trembling cunt. you couldn’t stop yourself from tasting the mess she made, moaning around your fingers as her flavor melted on your tongue. “mmm, tastes so good."

for a while, you just sit there, basking in your leisure and the warmth of her body heat. she reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing her sketchbook and pen.

she leans back so that her back is pressed against the armrest of the couch, gesturing for you to lean into her. you cuddle into her side, watching her silently as she starts sketching. she doesn't speak and you don't either. you simply watch her while she makes something beautiful.

#ꗃ%ellie bellieˑ༄#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams fluff #ꗃ%jos library⤷✰

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melminli · 3 months

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Poison Paradise

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - the gang finds out about one of your past relationships, which was kinda - well, actually really bad. you weren't proud that it happened either, but it did, and you couldn't really change that fact. no matter how much you wanted to.

word count: 1.5k

contains: alcohol consumption, toxic relationships, crack, (tw: val), cursing, strong language, sinner reader, sexual themes, demon horniness

Angel Dust felt his way through the liquor cabinet at the bar with all the arms at his disposal, looking for more stuff, stronger stuff - he wasn't necessarily picky, to be honest. The only thing that mattered was that it would make him feel numb. He had already put a good collection of bottles on the counter, and it was a large pile of different stuff. Though, he doubted if any amount of alcohol would be enough today. Fuck it, maybe all of Hell didn't even have enough alcohol for him because after today, Angel believed anything to be possible.

"Get the fuck out of my bar." Husker finally grumbled as he spotted the intruder in his area. "You sit. I make drinks." He said and shoved his emotional figure out by force. He really didn't want to listen to any of his whining right now.

A loud groan was heard in response, one that epitomized Angel's agony. "One fuckin' drink won't be enough this time." He moaned as if he was in pain and draped himself over a bar stool before grabbing one of the bottles he had placed on the counter earlier. He drank the whole thing without looking at the label. "I don't even think all the damn drinks in Hell could fill this horrible feelin' in the deepest parts of my heart." He said, wiping away the liquid that had spilled from the corner of his mouth. He was about to take another bottle, but Husker took it away before it could get anywhere near his mouth.

The cat demon furrowed his eyebrows. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you have to fuck an ugly guy at work or something?" He asked him, but that didn't quite seem to be it from Angel's reaction. "Two ugly guys?"

The famous porn star finally looked up with his face. "I wish! If I had to fuck a hundred ugly guys to undo what I've heard, I would!"

Well, maybe he would do it regardless, since it wasn't really in his hands and that was his fucking job, but that wasn't the point right now.

The two girls were just arriving in the main hall when they heard the commotion. Charlie looked a little worried at what Angel was saying. "What did you hear?" She asked, also out of mild curiosity.

At the question, he draped himself dramatically over the bar stool again, as if the mere memory of it was enough to make him nauseous. "I don't even wanna say it out loud. Makes me wanna puke just thinkin' 'bout it."

Every pair of eyes in the room looked around a little confused, but no one really seemed to have a clue what was going on. Vaggie looked to the bartender. "What the hell is wrong with him." She asked with interest but only got a shrug in response.

Several minutes passed as the people in the room busied themselves trying to figure out what seemed to be upsetting poor Angels Dust. Though, It was more Charlie who took on this task, while the other two watched quietly, and Niffty tried to spear a bug with a fork in some corner. Neither of them was really successful at what they were doing.

So since everyone was kind of busy with something else, no one really noticed at first when you came through the door. That was until you spoke up. "Oh, hello, guys. Did I miss today's activity? Damn it, that's such a shame!" You tried to say in a very disappointed manner, with the worst acting skills in history.

You had to end the act somewhat abruptly though, when Angel Dust suddenly pointed an accusing finger at you and yelled out, "Ya and Val were fuckin' each other!" He threw the accusation at you, which to be honest wasn't really that much of a surprise to any one. After all, this was Hell we were talking about, people were fucking each other all the time and we were here talking about the Valentino.

Angel himself realized his mistake. "Well, that's actually not that bad." He mumbled, trying not to sound like a hypocrite. Then he stood from his position and pointed his index finger accusingly at you again. "Ya and that freak were in a lovin', committed relationship!"

Everyone's mouths dropped open and for a few seconds nothing could be heard except the coughing of Husker as he tried to stop himself from choking on his drink.

You looked around the room, slightly on display, not really sure what to say. "Uhhh..." you stuttered, trying to get something out. "...who's Val? I mean seriously, never heard of the guy." You laughed out, sweating.

The cat demon waved his hand in disinterest at what you were saying since you were just bullshitting. "You were dating that evil porn director of the Vees?" He asked disbelievingly. "Is that even possible? I bet that fucker can't even stay committed to a brand of soap."

You looked to the side, slightly ashamed. "Well, he wasn't the evil porn diractor of the Vees when I was dating him." You assured them and then added. "Besides, underneath all that fur is a really nice guy who can be really sweet sometimes!" You shouted out and saw how no one really believed your words, and you couldn't really blame them since you didn't even do it yourself. You tried only telling half the truth, and that didn't seem to work out, so you finally gave up. "Okay, fine. The relationship was toxic as shit and made me want to kill myself. It's not my proudest work. Are you happy now?"

Vaggie looked a little confused. Because what you said and what Angel said didn't really seem to match up. Yours sounded more accurate. "That sounds more like that Val guy."

You shrugged your shoulders and laughed. "Yeah, I really have no idea where you picked that up, Angel." You said, tapping him on the chest. "But I can assure you that it was anything but loving and committed, trust me. You of all people should know best."

Of course he did. When Angel heard about how you and the guy who held him on a leash (in a non-kinky way) were a thing he felt a little betrayed, but it seems like Val also wasn't the best thing that happened to you. "Of course I do, I just didn't think ya did, too." He admitted, leaning a little closer to you. "I still can not believe that this guy was in any kind of relationship, if I'm being honest. I mean, how could ya even convince him to do that?"

You blinked a couple of times. "I didn't have to. He asked me to be his girlfriend." You saw the others look shocked again, and even the two who always had a very uninterested attitude towards most things seemed to want to know more. "I know! I was also really surprised when he did it, I mean it's...Val."

With all the stuff she'd heard so far, Charlie couldn't help but look a little disappointed. "Why did you even get involved with him in the first place if you knew he was bad news?"

You avoided looking at anyone. "Well, I wasn't lying before. He could be nice, sometimes even more than that." You whispered as you thought back to that time. "But most of the time, he wasn't. And he kept promising me that he would change, but that never really lasted for long, so yeah..." you said, shrugging your shoulders like it was nothing. "That's why I broke up with him."

Husker's eyebrows drew together suspiciously. "And he just let you?"

When you only gave a hesitant nod in response, Angel's patience burst. "Ya can't just give a half-assed version of the story! I need all the information down to the smallest detail!" He shouted and shook you by the shoulders.

The Princess of Hell and her girlfriend looked a little worried at the scene before them. Charlie finally spoke up and tried to be the voice of reason by walking between you two. "Maybe it's a sensitive subject for her. We shouldn't force her to tell something that brings up bad memories, don't you think so, Angel?"

At what she said, his grip on you loosened, giving you a chance to escape to a safe distance. "I'm pretty over it to be honest, but I'm not telling shit to a mean bitch!" You exclaimed and then quickly ran away.

At that, the spider demon immediately ran after you like a bullet out of a gun. "Get over here! I'll pull the information out of yer throat if I have to!"

Oh boy. Charlie had hoped that she could have taught you all a valuable lesson through this situation, but unfortunately, that really didn't go as planned. As if anything did around here. She thought to herself with a slight smile on her face.

#x reader #x you #x female y/n #x female reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #fanfiction #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel crack #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #vivziepop

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