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ghouljams · 5 months

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Regency AU with Price (as always the gif does not represent the reader, only the vibe)

Tags: first meetings, social faux pas, love at first sight, British imperialism mention, classism, a little period typical misogyny, Price keep your hands to yourself please

You've never deluded yourself into thinking you're marriage material, never concerned yourself with your lack of marriage prospects. The child of a doctor with no title to his name, and a midwife with even less. You're in good standing, but you know well enough that among the delicate fingers of the noble ladies, you're a sore thumb.

A captain is certainly out of reach for someone like you. You don't mind, of course, you're perfectly content to remain single and eventually take over your father's practice. Still, you do look up with the rest of the crowd when the announcement is made. Captain John Price. He's young. Too young to have made such a commission, but his eyes are old and the stern set of his brow, the tight lipped smile, speak to a man who has seen more in his short life than most men will by 80. His eyes meet yours and you look away, snap your fan open to distract yourself from the boiling heat of the greenhouse the party is being held in. That must be what makes your skin prickle.

You bemoan the fact that your friends have lost all interest in conversation in favor of tittering over the new arrival.

"Fresh from the colonies, I hear," one of your friends whispers, "he hasn't been home in a good few years."

"I heard he's going to be made a baron," your other friend whispers back.

"I hear he's rot his dick clean off from scurvy," you grumble.

"Did you now?" A voice rumbles with amusement behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief second and curse yourself before plastering on a smile and turning to face the man of the hour. You flutter your fan in front of your face and hope it looks more demure than your mouth would suggest.

He's better looking up close. His eyes sparkle, and his smile seems less forced, more open. It's the hint of teeth that break up his lips, different from the tightness he'd given upon announcement. You curtsey, as is proper when meet a man above your station, which is just about every man here. Money can buy you an invitation but not the good will other women may have.

"Captain," you have no follow up for that, so you attempt to mean it as a greeting, "I meant no harm."

His fingers tighten around yours when you try to pull them away, but he does straighten up, apparently unbothered by the surrounding crowd's murmurs. He must have hit his head and been sent home due to madness. You're sure that's the only explanation for the heat in his eyes and the smirk on his lips. A man who's lived a life of violence and still holds himself so tall shouldn't bow his head to you.

"Of course not," he holds his hand out, and like a fool you place your fingers against his. He doesn't raise your hand to his lips like so many other men, he bows to it. Bows to meet your knuckles with his lips. Bows with his arm tight behind his back and his eyes lowered. As if you were the queen, and not some doctor's daughter. Your face bursts with heat and you glance around to be sure there aren't any eyes on you.

"Please don't do that," you tell him quietly, whispering it furtively to try and stem the murmurs. His grip on your hand shifts, drops your fingers to hold your wrist.

"Perhaps you'd prefer something else?" He pulls your arm up, turns your hand over to press his lips against the thrumming pulse in your wrist, his gaze holds yours all the while. Your stomach flips pleasantly. The tips of your fingers brush against his dark hair, and you imagine you can feel it through your gloves. "A dance? Or an apology?" He kisses further past your wrist, pulling you closer, "Or perhaps I should be asking for one from you." Another kiss, just below the bend of your elbow.

Was there a crowd? You can't imagine there's anything but you and the captain? No one in the world but the two of you standing in front of each other as his lips skate the top edge of your glove. The feeling of his skin against yours is like touching the inside of an oven, a short shock that makes you want to pull away, a heat that lingers long after the touch is gone. Have you ever wanted to put your hand in a fire so badly?

"Would you like me to apologize?" You ask him, pushing your voice out even past the breathless bubble in your chest. He closes his eyes, tips his head to run his nose against your skin with a sigh.

"Never."

It's so simple a word and yet it drops like a heavy weight into your stomach. It roots you, binds you, when his hand touches the small of your back to pull you closer you go without a second thought. Spellbound.

"God," he breathes, "I'd have come home sooner if I knew you were waitin' for me."

"You don't even know me," You smile, feeling like you've been let in on a joke only the two of you know.

"Oh sweetheart," something in his voice is cloying sweet, something in his eyes -so stormy blue you'd think he bottled the ocean tides just to see through their colored glass- that speaks to a promise you never hoped for, "I've got a lifetime to learn."

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alwaysshallow · 6 months

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― blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

SUMMARY: Simon Riley knows you have bad experiences with dating, but he also knows you don't really need no one but him. He's gonna provide you anything. So you can imagine how he could change, when for the first time, you think you've found the one man who's right for you. To your surprise, weird events happen during the time you date Nick. Thankfully, Simon's there to help you. (11,4k)

READ ON AO3

A/N: this is SUCH a long piece, so some of it is here, but the full version is on AO3. i hope you're gonna forgive me for this one </3

"It's not like I'm ugly, right? I thought about it. If I'm ugly, so that's why it doesn't work out." you sip your favorite wine, looking right at your best friend, who has been listening for the past hour your ramblings about dating.

"You're fuckin' stupid, but not ugly, pet."

He's the best friend in the world – you can say this, meaning it with your whole heart. In fact, he's the best friend everyone probably wished to have, at least in your mind. Not only here for you, but loyal, you can tell him basically anything. He wouldn't say a thing, even if someone was nagging, and he was mostly a good adviser; all the qualities you looked for in a best friend, right?

And he was brutally honest, like right now, but you don't mind it. Simon Riley had this thing, and even if sometimes you were almost offended at his bluntness (like this one time, when he told you you're a crying mess and you act… worse than a toddler), you mostly appreciated it. Your other friends couldn't compare to his honesty, this man was not the one to lick your ass.

Or, so you thought.

"Excuse me?" you raise your eyebrow, laughing, while shaking your head. "You should, I don't know, tell me I'm amazing and they don't deserve me. Or so." you joke; it causes him to roll his eyes.

"That's what I told you. Different words, but the same thingy."

"Right."

It sometimes sucks for you that Simon isn't a girl. He has this unbelieveably annoying guy thing, where he just can't be delusional with you, and he can't just mourn over some hot guy. His way of thinking is… on the other level, he totally skips the mourn part, the part that is pathetic; he's just saying things like "move on" and "there's a lot of them anyway". Again, you love it, but you really wish you could cry about guy being so pretty that it hurts, without him rolling his eyes.

Yet, when you're more in mad mood than mourning one, his attiude is just perfect. He's the one to encourage you to scream, he even brought you a few times to rage room when you needed to smash a few things, not to mention the attiude he was setting you in. Powerful, not giving a shit about a "piece of a man that doesn't deserve you".

Simon sighs. "You're worryin' too much. Really that desperate?"

You huff, as you sink more into the plushy couch in your apartment. "I'm not desperate. It's just…" you take a few seconds to think "being love starved."

"Sex starved, you mean."

"Love starved." you send him a look.

"Mhm. You fancy plushies, hugs, and all shite like this?"

"You're so fucking British, it hurts" you laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I want something like this. Someone to hold me, someone that cares about me and I know it. Sex comes in package, of course, but it's just… ugh, I want a man" you groaned.

You feel as pathetic as ever, when Simon doesn't respond – because how exactly should he? He wasn't vocal about things like this, he usually just nod his head, and there it was, another topic. A miracle it was that he was already listening to your date rambling, not cutting it off because he was uncomfortable or something.

Dreams about your love life… more girly conversation.

Mostly – you know guys who loved talking about it, obviously, and you adore it pretty much, especially when you can know their perspective on some things, but… Riley wasn't really one of them. He had "simple hookups" as he said one day, when you asked him about doing double-dates. It wasn't even an option, he just liked to ocassionally fuck and that's all.

So you stopped trying a few months ago for a double-date. Instead, you focused more on finding a man that would meet your expectations at least in the middle, and that was exhausting, to be honest. Tinder dates were just a disaster after disaster – if it wasn't some catfish, a guy that wanted to marry you and have kids after two weeks of writing, it was most definitely a guy with a desire to bang you quickly.

Romance was dead these days, you noticed. That wouldn't keep you away from trying to find someone, though. Patience was a key in things like these.

"Maybe you will set me up with one your friends? It wouldn't suck. You know them." you think out loud.

"Definitely too much wine f'you." Simon takes your glass, and pours all of the liquid to his mouth, swallowing it like it was some kind of juice, not alcohol. "You don't want a guy from military in your life. Trust me."

There's some sternness to his tone, at which you raise your eyebrow. It was just a funny comment from your side, nothing else – you know by the heart that this man doesn't like the idea of connecting his two worlds. "I know, Simon. Just joking, right?"

You place a hand on his. It's a comedic, yet, heartwarming view, when you see the size difference.

"And, you're pretty cool for a military guy."

He huffs. It seems like pretty cool offends him, but he doesn't say it out loud, so it can be only your imagination working. "You met me before I enlisted. 's different."

"How different?"

"You knew me before military."

He doesn't give you another answer that night, nor the continuation of this one – he brushes you off, like you are some kind of bug that is disturbing him, and brings up another topic, about his deployment. He asks if you can watch his apartment when he's gone, take care of it; it's stupid, Simon knows that you will always agree, but it's the need of asking you anyway.

And, he likes coming home, where he can smell your perfume, where he can see that you made some changes. You tend to do that a lot, mostly buying stuff to his apartment. "It looks worse than room in the hospital" you always say, when he cocks his eyebrow with amusement. He doesn't say that, but he finds it really adorable that you care so much, to make his space… cozier, even if he's not really attached to it. Mostly, it's for your comfort when you come to visit him, and that happens a lot; not like he minds it. Anyone else would be banned from his apartment, but you? Oh God, you wouldn't be, not in the milion years.

You could probably be the worst ever to him; call him names, punch, anything, and he would still be your Simon. It's what he was used to, to being by your side, no matter what time, no matter if you were in the good mood or not; your presence was everything to him.

Not like he'd ever confess that, but it is what you know, silently.

Yet, you are so good to him. Always sending him letters or texting him when he is on deployment. A couple of times, you sent him little things too, if he forgot something, photos included too, but new ones; mostly you captured views, but you were here once or twice. His happiness may not be that visible to outsiders, but his heart is full every time.

"My girl", he'd tell boys when they saw a polaroid of you, swiftly tucking it into his vest because no one was allowed to see it more than three seconds.

Often, Gaz joked if you are actually his girl even if you're not dating, but it sounded so bizzare to Ghost. How would you not be his? Thirteen years of friendship counted as something beyond being only his best friend, no? At least in his mind it was like this. He was used to you dating briefly other guys, but it lasted maybe a few months top. Nothing serious, probably his hookups were more meaningful than your relationships.

So you can easily imagine his confusion, when your mutual friends tell him big news about your new object of interest; someone that he doesn't even know yet, but he's not really his fan on the beggining.

It was just a month of being away.

His eyes are on you now; you are embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. You don't even speak, you just wave your hand in dismissive manner, trying to change the topic because you don't really want to talk about it. Not in the presence of your best friend, at least.

It works for everyone but Simon, and you know it by the way he looks at you, processing what he just heard. Changing a topic, sudden talkativeness from your side is like buying time in that, time precious to think what to say to your best friend later on.

Because you know for the fact that he'll ask. He always does, and now he has a reason.

You have your reasons why you haven't told him. "It's nothing serious. That's why I didn't tell you." your voice is a little more silent than usual, but he can hear it anyway. You two are taking a walk to your apartment with no one around; and it's awkward one.

Simon seems like he doesn't want to say anything about your poor choice of men. It worries you; he always wanted somehow to make fun of you or make comment. Now, it's just a nod, like he gets it, but you know it's not it. He doesn't get it.

But you don't know what it is.

"C'mon!" you nudge him, and when it doesn't seem to affect him, you stand right in front of him. A little wobbly because of alcohol, your vision isn't so great too, but it makes him stop in his tracks. "Say something."

"Somethin'" he grumbles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. "What? Told me-"

"-I know what I told you!" you cup his face in your hands. Your head is a bit hazy, but the intensions are clear; making him talk and soft. It always works, so you have a lot of hope. "He's a good guy, but I want to meet him a bit closer to be… certain about him, you know? You've heard me whining about boys a bit too much."

"You can tell me everything." he muses, and you can't help but smile at that. Of course – of course you can tell him everything. You never doubted it for a second, and you think of yourself as stupid, doubting that he wouldn't want to hear about it. "Ill be the judge of that, though. Good guy thing."

"I can't be trusted?" you tease, and when he lets out a low chuckle, you grin even more. It's like a reward after him being his grumpy self.

"No." he shakes his head. "You don't know what is good for you. But that's why I'm here."

Under the influence of alcohol, you didn't pay too much of attention to his words; probably you wouldn't pay attention to it even if he'd say this when you are sober. Simon as your protector – it's so natural, you don't even need to think about it as something weird. It's just the way things are for thirteen years, everyone knows this.

Your friends, who were a bit reluctant on the beggining, but two parties later, when he joined the competition of drinking on time and wasn't drunk at all, he won over their hearts.

It was tougher with your parents, when you were in highschool. A little distanced at first, they constantly asked where were his parents (which, you told them, was rude asking, especially to his face), telling you how much of a bad news he could be for you. Suggestion of him ruining your future was the worst, you never thought of him this way; that discussion caused you to give them the silent treatment for a few days.

Apparently after that, suggesting that Simon is around you too much, clinging to your side and giving you "weird glances", they stopped the narrative, admitting that the boy might be damaged, but not broken. You still felt like they're judging their every move, but seeing that he had pretty good life plan, seeing that he thought about military and went here actually? Hell, they completely stopped being suspicious in any means.

Riley just had this thing of charming people, even if they didn't like him in the beggining. He had everything under his finger, trying to keep things under control – it was like that… pretty much since the beggining of his life. You met him when he was an adult, but he always liked to keep things under control; people, things that he cared about. What belonged to him was sacred, untouchable for anyone else.

The possessiveness started in his early childhood with toys, when he absolutely despised everyone who just wanted to touch his things, to lay their dirty, filthy fingers here. In early classes, it was considered just rude.

When he was older though, he started fighting for various things. Knowing he has the advantage, he used his legs, fists, when he had to, and no one was looking, besides the actual victim. He wasn't stupid; he knew how troublesome the public can be, he also knew the power of manipulation a bit too well to get caught so easily. Wasn't the plan, getting caught; it once happened, but because he wanted to; he even broke his own nose, making it like the other guy did it, just to get what he needed. The reputation of kid who was broken in the childhood, so he's just not opening on others was… suitable, for him. No one could suspect anything, especially when the kid just happened to be "attacked" by one of the popular ones, right?

The idea of power was something that Simon truly desired from the beggining; maybe it has something to do with the lack of his parents in his life, being transferred from one foster family to another. Maybe it's just him being a little fucked up – who knows.

What mattered, was the fact he had you. You, so sweet, so considerate to be by his side, to be protected by him, to be the person who "opened" because of her. Little did you know, he opened just because he wanted to be closer to you, not those fuckers you hang out with.

If you knew his past, you would have another reasons in mind, why he showed up to meet your potential new boyfriend. Jealousy, posessiveness, power complex, him being a control freak who can't give you to anyone he personally doesn't trust – if ever, considering you were his precious best friend. He isn't willing to share.

You aren't really aware of him being this crazy. You think of his flaws, and you see someone that has been damaged, someone that you can and will help, if he just asks for it – or if you'll see he needs it. So, naturally, you help, and grin the widest you can, when you see him in the door. He shows completely unexpected. It doesn't take you long to wrap your hands around his neck, tight, as you hug him.

Happy as always because you can see your friend, happy as ever because moments like these means a lot to you. When he's deployed, you can't even see him, so you're taking all in when he's right in front of you.

"Hope 'm not interruptin'." he murmurs into your hair, as his head is practically buried in them; he has to bend down a little to be at your level, but it's something he enjoys. The power.

"Never." you say immediately, not even hesitating in your statement. "Actually, you found a pretty good moment."

"That I did, eh?" his eyebrow arches, as he straightens up.

"As always. Nick's here, you have to meet him."

|READ THE REST ON AO3|

#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley x f!reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #best friends to lovers #best friend simon riley

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qaxqxd · 11 months

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I Didn't Get To Say I Love You. <3

♡Pair: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mention death, blood, and slight depression.

A/n: felt emo so wrote this shit at 2 am (not proof read typed this all on phone 😭)

Summary: You and your roommate Ghost got into a bad argument. This leads to him ignoring you and regretting it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Ghost have been roommates for a couple of years now. You two were quite literally made for each other. You guys have gotten into fights before, but they were usually small and stupid. They were never as bad as today.

You took a huge risk on their latest mission. Which almost jeopardizes the whole mission. Everyone made it alive and safe at least.

"Bloody Hell, were you thinking (Y/n)?!" Ghost shouted glaring straight down at you.

"You're still on about this?" You frown your brow slightly.

"Absolutely, you jeopardize the mission." He spoke roughly. His British accent would get thicker as he was pissed.

"I didn't jeopardize it! We all made it out alive with Intel." You spoke with more force.

"Almost. We almost died." His hand crossed.

"See, but we didn't-" "Is this a joke to you?" He cut you off. "I did what was necessary-"

"(Y/n). I'm asking you. Is this a joke to you?" He slammed his hand on the table.

"No, but-" "It's a simple YES or NO." Ghost's voice was getting louder.

"No." You spoke a little defeated.

"Goodness, I can't believe they put me on a team with you." He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ouch.

I don't think he knew that you heard him. But you kept quiet either way.

"Goodnight, (Y/n)." Ghost said, heading into his room and shutting the door.

You really did it this time. Ghost wasn't usually the type to get pissed off so easily, but you managed to do that.

You sighed to yourself. You definitely weren't going to get any sleep tonight.

The next morning

You got up from your restless night. Walking out of your room. You didn't see Ghost.

Strange wasn't it? Usually he'd be on the couch reading a book, and greeting you with a 'Good Morning.' But he didn't. Or rather he wasn't there.

You ignore it though. 'Maybe Ghost was busy this morning.' A little disappointed. You went on with your morning routines.

As you headed down to the cafeteria for breakfast. You notice he wasn't there either. You saw Soap and Gaz, but no Ghost.

"Morning," You greeted the two.

"Morning," They both replied in sync.

"Have you guys seen Ghost?" You asked a little worried in your voice.

"Oh, he's just showing a new recruit around." Soap spoke with a shrug.

New recruit?

"Oh a new recruit?" You asked with a little excitement.

"Yeah I think you'd like her too." Gaz added.

And it was a girl too? You were glad that there was finally another girl on the team, but you couldn't shake the feeling.

With Ghost? You couldn't help but feel a twig of jealousy rise a little. It was no secret that you had a giant crush on Ghost. I mean the whole HQ probably knows.

Soap was the first person you told. He wasn't surprised. You and Ghost were close buddies. Soap thought you two were secretly dating one time.

"Oh? You know where they're at?" You asked softly.

"I think they should be around the training parts." Soap said, waving his fork.

And immediately you left the cafeteria. Heading straight to the training grounds.

You found them a minute later. You heard the new recruits' soft laughter as well as Ghost's laughter too.

"You're great, Ghost." The new recruiter chuckled. "Thanks, Katelyn." He chuckled slightly.

You were glad Ghost was laughing. He rarely does, but you couldn't help feeling a little sting in your heart.

You told yourself that you shouldn't bother them and you should leave them be.

But how could you? How could you ignore them, when they both were everywhere. The only place they weren't there was you and Ghost's quarters.

You've also noticed that Ghost has been going home later than usual or he's not home at all. Was he still mad at you?

Maybe.

You thought. He was a man of action rather than words. Maybe he was just still mad at you.

The only times you would see him was at training or at mission briefings. Katelyn wasn't a bad person.

She was pretty sweet. She was also gorgeous. Most of the rookie trainees fell head over heels for her.

You would see her and Ghost pair up. They hung around each other a lot lately.

But, why does that get you work up? It's not like you and Ghost were together or anything. He has the choice to see other people, but he wasn't the type to look for love.

So you don't get it.

It's been months. And he still hasn't talked to you. Not a single word. He's been pretty distant.

"Maybe he's still mad?" You asked yourself. You didn't have the guts to talk to him. The stinging in your heart grew.

You couldn't fall asleep at night anymore, unless you cried yourself to sleep.

The person who usually is right beside you. Comforting you and saying sweet things to make you feel better. Wasn't there.

He wasn't there. You cried into your pillow. Sobbing silently not wanting to disturb others.

The next morning You couldn't bare yourself from getting up, but you knew you had too. Or else others might think something was wrong, and you didn't want them to carry your burden.

So you had to get up.

As you realize you had a mission today. You really couldn't afford to waste time.

You got dressed in your usual uniform and headed out.

You were dropping down from your parachute. Everyone decides to group into twos. Apparently there was an uneven number of soldiers. You agreed to be the alone soldier.

Heading down to enemy territory was tuff. Shots fired everywhere.

The main goal today was to find out what the drug cartels were hiding. Easy enough, you say.

Your radio would be filled with a bunch of code and confirmation. You continue to shoot at the enemy. As backup.

You would watch other soldiers moving in closer.

As you saw an empty way being closer to the cartels. You took that route. Moving in closer.

What you didn't know was that.

You were surprised by the attack.

A couple cartel men tackle you from the behind with their knives.

You yelled in agony. Quickly trying to fend them off of you. As you do that, you quickly notice you were stabbed in the thigh.

Making it harder for you to escape from them. You rolled down a small hill, limping away from them.

You were then able to hide behind a broken down building. The part you were in was nowhere close to where the mission was at, but there were still gun firing where you were at.

You collapsed against a wall, taking cover for a bit. You look at your wounds. They were bad, as in. Really bad.

"Shit." You cursed under your breath. You could hardly breathe even.

You were stabbed multiple times in the legs and sides. Shoulders too.

You knew for a fact. You weren't going to make it.

"(Y/n) to Katelyn." You spoke a little shaky.

"This is Katelyn to (Y/n)." She spoke.

"Could you take care of him for me?" You said with a cough.

It went silent for a bit.

"(Y/n) where the fucking hell are you?" Ghost asked with a sharp tone.

You heard footsteps behind the wall, and turned the radio all the way down. Those footsteps were definitely not your teammates.

You were holding onto your wound on the side. Wincing at the tremendous pain.

You felt so tired.

You couldn't escape from here and get back onto the aircraft. Your legs were too wobbly to crawl even.

You thought about it. Would this have ended in a different way?

Maybe Ghost would be a little happy that you were finally gone. It would mean your annoyance would finally stop bothering him.

Maybe he could even be a little happier without you screwing things up. I mean Katelyn is a great girl. She'd be perfect for him.

Another thought crossed your mind.

"I didn't get to say I love you to him." You mumble. You knew he'd probably turn you down, but it would have been nice to say it once.

Well it was too late anyways.

You could feel yourself collapsing. Your breathing is getting shallow.

"Where the hell is she?" Ghost continues searching for her signal. Panic rose in him.

He couldn't lose her. No way it was happening. He wasn't going to let it happen.

He eventually found her. With a pool of blood around her.

He scrambles to check her pulse. It was low. Too low for comfort.

"(Y/n) open your damn eyes." He grasped onto her.

No, no. He wasn't going to lose her. No fucking way. His everything.

He quickly carried her back to the aircraft. The medics took her away from his hold.

He stared at his gloves which were stained with her blood. He held the gloves close to him.

Ghost sat there. Watching over you. He held your hand. Never leaving your side.

You would eventually flatline.

He blamed himself. He should have spent more time with her. He shouldn't have distanced himself from her.

He should have spent every last moment on her.

The nurses let him back in to say one last goodbye.

He held up your hand. Brushing his lips onto your wrist.

"I- I'm so sorry..." He repeated out multiple times.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). I'm really sorry, I didn't get to say I love you." He mutters breaking into tiny sobs.

As he watches the nurses wrap a blanket over her.

W.C 1.6k

#simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n

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agendabymooner · 10 months

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indigo ! pierre g. x ofc (singer!ofc)

"first to one-up your last, (s)he can stay in your past."

summary: a certain pierre gasly shouldn't be jealous over a high school sweetheart, and ensley made sure to remind him that. OR no amount of subtweeting from an ex-boyfriend can deter ensley's love for the alpine driver

content warning: ex-boyfriend (fictional), use of explicit language, allusions to smut (no smut, i can't do it guys), slight insecure!pierre, pierre is a boba fan, ofc and other drivers in a private twitter account, pierre and ensley being h0rny on main, chatfic + tweets, rare british youtubers in the comments

note: someone should have the audacity, and it will be ensley and lester :)

masterlist

tagged ensoleil

liked by willne, landonorris, estebanocon

brianimanuel look at my lil frenchman being cultured and all 💗 liked by pierregasly

user1 "my lil frenchman" 💀

willne i feel like i shouldn't be here

ensoleil we don't recall asking william :)

pierregasly bebe that's not very nice

ensoleil my bad bub sorry william

user2 y'all telling me ensley listens to the person she didn't even like before???

user3 this dump is giving "pierre is an exhibitionist" liked by pierregasly

user3 pierre?! what does that mean?

user4 i need to touch grass (or they do)

user5 pierre's the kind to pull her by the hair then kiss her whenever someone tries to eye her liked by pierregasly

user6 PIERRE PLEASE TOUCH SOME GRASS

landonorris you think this dump is bad try being the photographer of the said photos liked by pierregasly

maxfewtrell i second that

yungfilly i third that

willne so it's not just me?? our group therapy session's about to be mad lads

user7 not the group therapy sesh 😭

charles_leclerc mon dieu, there are kids in this app, calamar 🥲 liked by pierregasly

ensoleil too many to unpack because he packing frfr

charles_leclerc go to church and indulge in some holy water.

tagged pierregasly

liked pierregasly, brianimanuel, willne

user1 "big dick is back in town" 😩

niko do you have that shirt available for me?

ensoleil no sorry, it's only reserved for one man

wroetoshaw oh so you're not even going back to your flat in uk for a frenchman? 😒 liked by ensoleil

ensoleil ain't you french?

wroetoshaw i'm from guernsey?!

ensoleil same thing

willne i thought i lost that shirt 😟

ensoleil it was never urs

estebanocon i already get enough of this in the paddock

ensoleil sorry bestie you'll get more of this in your timeline :)

estebanocon its ok i like you two together anyway

brianimanuel look at our moneymaker 🥰 liked by ensoleil

pierregasly i prefer the word "muse" but thank you bb

yukitsunoda0511 look at our boyfriend liked by ensoleil

ensoleil i know right?!!!

pierregasly i didn't agree to this 😭

pierregasly if he tries to post about you one more time my dump photos will be even worse liked by ensoleil

ensoleil make him cry ig 😩😉

pierregasly oh i will, mon bebe

bonus !!!

JOJI JUDGES ENSLEY AND RICH BRIAN'S HOMEMADE BUBBLE TEA IN THIS FEAST MANSION EPISODE by first we feast

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enha-doodles · 1 month

Text

THAT ASSHOLE ✧⁺。

Pairing : Tom riddle x fem!reader

Synopsis : you and Tom are academic rivals and hate each other , but is it your fault when that competitive asshole cannot handle one loss and seeks for revenge which leaves you in detention

Warnings : cursing , normal fighting ? Not proofread I'm sorry 😭

Note : my first ever Harry potter fic sksksk , I'm very excited for this one . This is also my first fic after like a year ? And I've improved a lot so I hope you guys like it <33

In the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the echoes of centuries-old spells mingle with the whispers of ambitious young wizards, I stormed down the corridor, my footsteps echoing with determination. Clutched tightly in ny hand was the parchment that bore the results of the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts examination—a subject I prided myself on excelling in , but surprisingly this time I didn't get the highest grade , though i already have an idea who got excellent score - that asshole .

As I rounded the corner, my path intersected with none other than Tom Riddle , the brooding Slytherin prodigy whose mere presence seemed to cast a shadow over my ambitions. His dark eyes flickered with a smugness that ignited a spark of anger within me , knowing all too well that he had likely aced the exam and overstepped me .

"You're in the damn way, Riddle," i spat, my voice laced with disdain as i attempted to sidestep him. But Tom, ever the opportunist, blocked my path with a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, (L/N), always using such unladylike words , maybe thats one of the reason why you seem to be below than me ," he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension.

Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see how much his words affected me . "Unlike some , I actually don't care what people say and while we talk about my academic pursuits , it'd be better if you keep your insignificant opinion to yourself ," i retorted, my tone laced with venom. Our rivalry was legendary within the walls of Hogwarts, a constant clash of intellects and egos that fueled their disdain for one another.

With a sarcastic smile, I pushed past Tom, my resolve steeling against the inevitable confrontation that awaited the both of us in the days to come. For as long as we remained academic rivals, our mutual hatred would burn as brightly as the flames of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Tom's voice echoed in the long and ominous hallway making me stop at my tracks . "Maybe you should work on yourself instead of just trying to prove your worth , which I may insist would be nothing less than my broom" That arrogant jerk . Thankfully there were almost no students around since it was time for another lesson . I could feel my rage burning , running through my veins as i stormed towards him and grabbed him by the collar of his stupidly perfect robe "You better learn to shut your fucking mouth riddle , I'm no patient woman and I would definitely not hesitate to show you just how much I have in myself , I'll have you fucking grovel at my feet" i seethed but it did not have much impact on Tom since all he did was let out a menacing chuckle "grovel at your feet ? You sure think highly of yourself , don't you ? And why are you mad , I was just being veracious . Perhaps you forgot I'm a prefect and could very happily take points from your pathetic house for the absolute insolence you are performing at the moment"

His word flowed through his thick British accent only making me more mad , they always seemed to cut through my mind and heart , his erudite personality provoking a desire withing me to just stab him with a dagger but I know better than to do foolish things so instead i let my grip loosen as I gave him a sickeningly fake smile , my hands straightening his collar as i whispered "you wouldn't dare riddle , you know I'm a prefect aswell" i continued with sweetness flowing through my words as if it was straight up sugar "I wouldn't mind deducting all of those points you earned in a month , I'll make sure they're gone in a fucking week , you know Dumbledore is on my side" i taunted him as i tightened his tie a bit to which he hissed and glared at me .

It was a known fact that tom was loved by the entire student body along with the professors but Dumbledore? No . he sure saw right through his facade something which I highly appreciate since I find it stupid just how naive people here are that they are fooled by his fake act but to be fair he is quite charmistic with his ways of getting things done in his manner , he just fabricates his personality so fucking well . Oh how I would love to disrupt and absolutely wreck his living . His fame , his knowledge, his charm , his everything , just him overall evokes an enmity within me , an deep seated anger upon how he could gain it all so easily while I work my ass off ? It was just not fair .

I took my hands off as i beamed at him my eyes forming into crescents "farewell riddle , hope you collide into a wall and have a concussion" with that i turned around smiling to myself as i felt a sense complacency wash over me , oh such a beautiful feeling to put him in his place , I'm going to have a good sleep tonight .

As she went away Tom stood there with a clenched jaw and hands formed into fists breathing heavily "that disdainful bitch" . The amount of anger he felt was indescribable at the moment , how could this little girl disrespect him , the future lord of the wizarding world , and go away as if nothing happened? She needs to learn her place and Tom will gladly be the one to do so . "Just you wait little girl , just you wait" he breathed out as he walked away sharply .

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

It was now the next morning , I woke up along with hermione as we both freshened up and went at the great hall for breakfast . As we reached there we spotted our usual group - Harry , ron , fred and george . They are all laughing as we took our seats , I sat near Harry as hermione sat near ron . As they started bickering i side eyed Harry as we both quietly exchanged amused glances . To be honest everyone knew they liked each except those two idiots, sometimes I think they know it aswell but they just don't have enough courage to express it . It's honestly so annoying but we still do our best to make them realise their feelings .

I laughed as I heard Harry huff out "here comes the daily fighting , can a guy not have a break" I took a plate as I filled it with some food and continued the conversation "hey a girl needs a break aswell , I'm sure he doens't complain about mionie as much as she eats my ear off about ron" . Harry was about to say something when he suddenly stopped , his mouth open , eyebrows frowned into confusion as he looked somewhere. "What ? What happened?" I asked as I followed his gaze which stopped at the Slytherin table right where tom sat with his insatiable group of arrogant jerks "oh" was all i could say . Harry turned towards me as he asked "did you and Tom have another fight ? He seems to glaring at you since you entered . At first i thought it was just me but umm he's definitely mad"

All my friends knew about our rivalry since I'm mostly pissed off because of him and well let me inform you about an annoying trait of mine - I can't control my anger and cursing . I sighed as i continued eating answering him nonchalanly "I did but he started it , it was just the same I don't know what hit the nerve this time" Harry seemed a bit concerned as he leaned in a bit "just be careful I think he's coming for you this time , it seems as if you really hurt his pride" I let out a chuckle as I looked at tom "oh he can try all he wants but at the end he is the loser" i whispered as i smiled sarcastically at tom who only glared back .

We had finished eating as we stood up , ron and hermione still arguing "gosh ronald you make such gratuitous jokes" hermione complained as they walked forward , me and Harry still walking at a slow pace behind as we continued laughing . Suddenly Tom blocked our path with his annoying friends "well if it isn't the golden pair of our school , i must say you both suit each other perfectly , extremely dumb and pretentious" said his younger brother, mattheo . He is a spitting image of Tom just less cold and more talkative , also a complete manwhore - quite the opposite of Tom . I scoffed as I rolled my eyes "did the snakes loose their way ? You're slithering in the wrong den assholes"

"How amiable , aren't you darling" mattheo said as he stepped forward , a bit too much in my personal space for my liking . Before I can say something Tom interrupted "don't waste your time on trash Mattheo , we have better things to do" his sentence made me furious but i kept a cool face on "oh yeah , like licking snapes boot off for extra points?" My words sure made them offended as they all stepped forward but Harry came in between "if you guys may , we're getting late for class" with that he dragged me away as I flipped Tom off , oh how I loved seeing their pissed off face as I blew them a kiss only adding fuel to their rage .

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

During the classes i could feel their burning gaze throwing daggers at my head . They were extremely influencial people maybe i shouldn't have said too much but I'm a gryffindor , it's in my blood . Damn this courage , this will be the reason of my death one day . This is all Tom's fault , he is simply so agitating ugh will be just let me live my life in any sort of peace ? If he's not at my neck all the time then his goons are , so fucking annoying. The classroom fell quite as the professor stepped in with the results of the transfiguration test taken a week ago .

As the professor stood at the front of the classroom, holding the parchment with the test results, the tension in the air was palpable. Every student leaned forward in their seats, anticipation coursing through the room like electricity.

When the professor finally began to announce the results, a hush fell over the classroom, broken only by the rustling of parchment. As my name was called out as the top performer, a ripple of whispers and murmurs swept through the room, followed by a round of applause.

You couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the recognition of your hard work and dedication. It was a validation of your efforts, a moment of triumph amidst the daily struggles of academic life at Hogwarts.

But as you basked in the glow of your success, you couldn't ignore the sharp gaze of Tom Riddle fixed upon you from across the room. His expression was inscrutable, but there was a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.

It was no secret that Tom Riddle was ambitious and competitive, always striving to be the best in every endeavor. Your success was undoubtedly a blow to his pride, and you could see the flicker of envy in his demeanor.

As the class continued, you couldn't shake the feeling of being under scrutiny, as if every move you made was being watched and analyzed. It was as though Tom's gaze followed you wherever you went, a constant reminder of the rivalry that simmered between you.

But despite the undercurrent of tension, you refused to let it dampen your spirits. You were determined to savor this moment of victory, to revel in the praise that had been bestowed upon you.

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

As Tom Riddle seethed with jealousy over the your academic success , he knew he needed to devise a plan to bring you down. His mind teemed with thoughts of retribution, each one darker than the last.

One evening, as he strolled through the corridors of Hogwarts, an idea struck him like a bolt of lightning. He would orchestrate a situation that would land you in detention, a punishment that would serve as a fitting punishment for their perceived transgressions. It would piss you off but also lower your reputation in front of the professors.

Tom approached his brother, Mattheo, and his friend, Theodore, with a devious plan brewing in his mind. "I need your help," he said, his eyes glinting with malice. "I want to teach that insolent girl a lesson she won't forget."

Mattheo and Theodore exchanged a glance, intrigued by Tom's proposition already knowing who he's talking about . "What do you have in mind?" Mattheo asked, his curiosity piqued.

Tom outlined his plan, explaining how he intended to use Mattheo and Theodore to manipulate your emotions. "We'll have you bump into her and flirt with her," he said with a wicked grin. "But we'll make sure to push her buttons. She won't be able to resist reacting , you know how she is ."

Theodore nodded , eager to assist his friend. "Count me in," he declared, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

As i navigated the bustling corridors of Hogwarts, lost in thought, i suddenly felt a collision jolt my from my reverie. Startled, i stumbled backward, nearly losing my balance. Looking up, I saw two figures looming over me , their expressions smug and unapologetic.

"Watch where you're going!" I exclaimed, my annoyance evident in my voice as I straightened myself.

Mattheo and Theodore exchanged a glance, barely concealing their amusement. "Apologies, love," Mattheo said with a smirk, his tone dripping with insincerity. "We didn't see you there."

I rolled her eyes, my irritation mounting at their cavalier attitude. "Sure you didn't," I muttered sarcastically, attempting to sidestep their path and continue on my way.

But Mattheo stepped in front of me , blocking my path with an infuriating grin. "Leaving so soon, sweetheart?" he teased, his tone laced with arrogance.

My patience wore thin as I tried to push past him, my frustration evident in my voice. "I have better things to do than entertain you two," i retorted, my annoyance palpable.

However, Mattheo and Theodore seemed undeterred by my dismissal, their egos bruised by my indifference. They exchanged a knowing glance before Theodore leaned in closer, his voice dripping with false charm. "Come on, don't be like that," he cajoled, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from my face.

I recoiled, my patience wearing thin. "Don't touch me," I snapped, swatting his hand away. "I said I'm not interested!"

But Mattheo and Theodore persisted, their egos wounded by my rejection. They exchanged a smirk before Theodore remarked, "Looks like she needs to be taught a lesson, eh, Mattheo?"

With a malicious glint in his eye, Mattheo nodded in agreement. "Oh, I've got just the lesson in mind," he replied, his voice filled with venomous intent as he stepped closer .

And with that, my patience snapped. With a swift punch to Mattheo's jaw, I silenced his arrogant words , I couldn't believe how absolutely disgusting they were.

The commotion attracted the attention of nearby teachers, who hurried over to intervene. Amidst the chaos, I found myself dragged to detention , the teacher's had asked what happened and with the witness of other students around it was proved that I started the fight. I was absolutely furious because I had a reason to do it but I was silenced by "I am utterly disappointed in you (name) I didn't expect this kind of behaviour from you. Detention for 3 days". My mind was reeling with anger - they hadn't even let me explain myself , just great .

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

As i stormed into the dimly lit detention room, my eyes immediately locked onto Tom Riddle's figure, sitting calmly at his desk. Without hesitation, i marched over to him, my footsteps echoing with determination.

"What did you do?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the silence of the room. Tom glanced up, his expression unreadable as he met my gaze. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," he replied smoothly, his tone betraying no hint of guilt.

My frustration boiled over, my patience wearing thin. "Cut the act, Tom," i snapped, my voice tinged with anger. "You framed me, didn't you?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of Tom's lips, a glint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "Perhaps I did," he admitted casually, his gaze never wavering from mine . "But you shouldn't be so careless, (L/N) . You know what they say about stepping on snakes."

The mention of snakes ignited a fire within me , my temper flaring at his veiled threat. Without thinking, I lunged forward, my hand reaching out to grab him by the collar.

"You think you can intimidate me?" I hissed, my voice laced with fury as I pulled him closer. "I won't let you get away with this."

Tom's smirk widened into a sly grin as he met my gaze head-on, unfazed by my display of aggression. "And what do you plan to do about it?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

Before I could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room as the detention supervisor approached, breaking the tension between us . With a final glare, I released my grip on Tom's collar, stepping back to compose myself.

I huffed as I took my seat glaring at the back of his head while he talked smoothly with the professor keeping up with his facade , showing no remorse after framing me and worse threatening me to do more just because i overstepped him in a bloody test . A frustrated sigh left my mouth as he left with a mocking sly grin on his face and all I could do was roll my eyes and curse him "that asshole" .

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 3 months

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 2

AO3

Summary: Frankie's friendship with the men of the 100th continues to consolidate, even as her work takes its toll

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, language, me having no idea how B-17s work

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp

The pub was noisy as ever, a patchwork crowd of blue and green, British and American, filling the low-ceilinged room, the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beer thick in the air. It seemed to Frankie that she only ever managed to get that smell washed out of her uniform in time to come straight back here and acquire it again, but it was the only place they could manage to find some real fun - after all, there were no men and no booze allowed in their Nissen hut. Although both rules had been known to be flouted.

"Stop fiddling with that, you'll make it worse," George tutted, batting at Frankie's arm as she took a sip of her beer. When one of the forts had crashed in a ball of flames earlier that week, she had seared herself helping to clear the debris, a burn mark running across the palm of her right hand. In her moments of absent-mindedness, she often found herself toying with the bandage, which caused the nurses great dismay when the dressings inevitably frayed and needed replacing.

"I can't make it worse, it's already almost healed," She shrugged, plucking a cigarette from her breast pocket. The two women had long since learned that bringing a whole pack led to nothing but strangers begging for a smoke, so they each only ever brought one out with them - besides, a pleasant smile could always swindle a hapless soldier out of another, should the need arise. "Hurt like a bitch, but the nurse lanced all the blisters the other day."

George grimaced, wiping some foam from the corner of her lip. As she let her gaze wander to the next table over, the voices of the men behind them growing more audible by the minute, she sighed. "Oh, here we go."

Craning her neck to have a look, Frankie watched on for a moment, recognising the faces of Egan, Cleven and the others as they chatted with a few RAF airmen in less-than-friendly tones. A crooked grin made its way across her expression, and she wiggled her brow at George as she stood up, taking her pint with her.

"Frank, no," Her companion whispered, tugging at her sleeve.

"Come on," She giggled. The pair burrowed their way through the dense crowds that crammed the pub, breaking free beside the men's table, lingering momentarily behind the three RAF pilots.

"So, let me get this straight," One of them asked. "You're Buck, and he's Bucky?"

"Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?" Another spoke, a smug smirk creasing his cheeks.

Frankie took another sip of her beer and spoke up, the sudden sound drawing the attention of all of the men at the table. "No, but there is a shortage of tossers, I'm sure you could fill the ranks," She said sweetly.

"Wa-hey!" Bucky cheered, a pink tinge on his cheeks indicating that he was already reasonably intoxicated. Wordlessly, he leapt to his feet, scrounging for a pair of extra chairs for the two women.

"Hiya, George," Biddick smiled dreamily, cradling in his in the palm of his hand. "How ya doin'? You look nice."

"I'm doing good, thanks Curt," George smiled, accepting a seat with a quick thanks to Bucky. Frankie let out a snort as she sat down beside her.

"Only thing we're short of is crews, gents," Egan sighed, taking his place between Frankie and Cleven and attempting to drape an arm across the back of her chair before she shoved him off.

"Hm. Pity," One of the RAF men said, condescension dripping in his tone.

"Pity what, exactly?" Frankie urged, getting the distinct feeling that there was a whole argument bubbling under the surface here that she had not been party to.

"Well, they'd have more if they flew their missions at night - as an RAF woman yourself, surely you must know that."

She raised a brow, talking over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of beer. She could feel Bucky tensing beside her. "Yunno, if the RAF paid me a bit more I might feel some loyalty to them, but I'm with the Yanks. You're the prick here, mate." George lifted her glass in a silent toast of agreement, a smirk curling the corner of her lips.

The Englishman's jaw clenched as he peeled his irritated gaze away from her to look at the men. "I think we ought to make some sport of this. Any one of you will do."

"Oh, don't say that, Frankie'll beat your ass," Bucky muttered under his breath, just quiet enough that only she and Cleven could hear, grins spreading across their expressions.

"Sounds like an excellent idea," Cleven rose to his feet to accept the challenge, but before he could, Biddick was up beside him, tugging at his sleeve. He spoke in a low voice, and Frankie couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but she pieced it together when Curt's gaze kept flickering from Cleven to George, who watched on with a frown. He wanted to take the fight - wanted to impress her.

Once it was settled that Curt would be the one to fight, the group moved swiftly outside, half-empty drinks long forgotten at the table as they hurried to watch the spectacle. The alley outside the pub was unlit, the glow from inside casting faint shadows against the cobbles as they formed a tight circle, watching on expectantly. Frankie's cigarette hung from her lips, a cloud of smoke rising in front of her as Curt and the RAF airman began to circle one another, fists raised.

George clung tight to her elbow, grinning in anticipation. The Englishman caught the edge of a wonky paving stone, stumbling slightly, and the two women let out unflattering snorts. Curt winked at them, and Frankie rolled her eyes, although even in the darkness she could tell George was blushing.

"What do I get when I win?" He called over, tearing his gaze from his opponent.

It was George's turn to roll her eyes now. "I'll let you buy me a drink."

His boyish face lit up, and it seemed he had been wholly distracted from the fight. The Englishman lunged forward to take advantage of this, but Biddick didn't miss a beat, knocking him down with a single blow. Frankie let out a raucous cheer of celebration, her friend clapping along as the men whooped and jeered at each other.

"Milady," Curt grinned, holding out his hand to George, who accepted gladly, allowing him to lead her back into the pub for another drink. Frankie let out a huff, smiling as she stomped out her cigarette and watched the other RAF airmen pick their fallen comrade up off the ground. Letting out another laugh, the sound of it erupting into the night air, she began to follow the men of the 100th, finally letting Bucky sling his arm around her shoulders as they wandered back towards the Nissen huts, singing and shouting in celebration of Curt's victory.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was not yet five in the morning as Frankie scrounged to tie her bootlaces in the dark, toothbrush dangling out of her mouth, unbrushed hair tugged back into a messy ponytail. The pilots were taking off shortly after daybreak, and as some of the most senior mechanics at Thorpe Abbotts, the job often fell to her and Lemmons to carry out the last-minute safety checks and refuelling to ensure they'd all make it back in one piece.

None of the other women in her hut were required for duty yet, so Frankie did her best to shuffle about in the darkness as quietly as possible, refusing to turn on her bedside lamp so as not to wake George or any of her other less forgiving bunkmates.

Standing up from the edge of the bed once she'd finished tying her laces, she groped around blindly for her key to the mechanics' hut, accidentally banging her elbow on the corner of her metal bedframe in the process, waves of pain shooting up her arm. Pursing her lips tightly together, her whole body tensed, Frankie managed to find the key, waiting until she'd left the hut so that the cool night air would drown out the sounds of her pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She hissed as she scurried for her bike, waving her injured arm around wildly as if the movement could somehow dull the pain. She was so distracted that she'd almost completely forgotten about the burn on her hand - that is, until she clamped the handlebar with her injured palm and let out a yelp.

The sun was already rising as Frankie arrived on the airstrip, breaks squeaking as she wheeled to a stop outside the mechanics' hut, Lemmons already on site as he wrung his palms with one of the dirty rags they used to clean away excess lubricant. "You look like hell," He pointed out as she dismounted her bike, locking it up around the side of the building.

"Thanks, Ken," She replied sarcastically. "Rough wake-up call, beat myself up stumbling around in the dark."

Ken chuckled, handing over her toolkit. The pair had far few hours of sleep between them to chat as they worked, and it was all Frankie could do not to yawn as she checked the fuel tanks and oiled the landing gear. They'd been out for over an hour by the time the flight crews began to show up, the familiar sound of jeep engines pulling up behind her as she declared her job done.

"She ready to roll?" Bucky's voice rang out, and Frankie almost flinched as he clapped her over the shoulder, still reeling from the man's constant lack of volume regulation.

"All good," She confirmed. "Now get her outta my sight, and bring her back in one piece - can you handle that?"

He smirked. "Oh, you know I can."

"The number of wrecks you've given me would say otherwise, dear," Frankie teased, wiping engine grease off of her fingers with a rag as she turned on her heel, heading back towards the mechanics' hut.

"Hey!" Egan called, and she looked back at him. "You ain't gonna watch us take off?"

"The only thing I'm doing now is taking a goddamn nap," She laughed, feeling exhaustion tugging at her eyelids.

"Yeah, fair, you do look like shit," Bucky shrugged, recoiling as her filthy, oily rag smacked him in the shoulder as Frankie lobbed it across the airstrip. "Hey!"

"Respect women, you little bitch," She retorted, raising a middle finger as she wandered off, praying she could make the bike ride back to her bed without dozing off and crashing into a bush somewhere.

Frankie slept through the morning, right past lunch, and would've missed the cacophony of plane engines returning overhead had Lemmons not come to retrieve her, banging on the window above her bed. She peeled her eyes open slowly, waking with a start as she noticed the boyish face staring down at her through the glass.

"What the fuck?!" She asked groggily, voice raised so that he could hear her from outside.

"They're back, come on!"

Letting out a huff, Frankie dragged herself out from under the blankets, running her fingers through the knots in her hair for want of time to properly brush it. Stepping out through the front door as she finished fastening the top few buttons of her coveralls, Ken stood waiting for her, passing his weight impatiently between the balls of his feet.

"How's it lookin'?"

"Uh, all the ones we've got so far look alright. Although..." He trailed off, glancing awkwardly at her as they fetched their bikes.

"Although?"

"Biddick may have... crashed. In, uh... Scotland."

"He what?!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Once it had been established that Biddick was still, in fact, alive, Frankie had few kind words to say about the pilot's wreckless flying, mourning the loss of a plane and the strings they'd have to pull to find a new one. Fortunately, George had been in an especially persuasive mood that night, and had managed to rope her into attending the party that was being held for the airmen to celebrate the success of their mission.

"Watch what they're calling a success, I'm the one who's gotta figure out how to ship a wrecked plane back from fucking Scotland," Frankie muttered as they approached the building, muffled music coming from inside as she tugged at the shoulders of her jacket, trying to force it to sit comfortably.

"Oh, stop complaining," George scoffed, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stop as she reached up to fix a smudge in her lipstick. "Look on the bright side for once - he didn't die!"

"That's especially good for you with your lovey-dovey eyes, huh? 'Oh hiya George, how ya doin' George, you look real pretty today George'," Frankie teased, putting on an utterly terrible American accent as she attempted to mimick Curt. George punched her in the arm and went inside without a word, a natural pink flush visible through her rouge.

The band was in full swing as Frankie followed her inside, the mingling crowds a mix of uniformed airmen, plainclothed local women, and a few servicewomen she recognised from the neighbouring huts. She was struggling to pretend she had ever wanted to come, nose burrowed in a glass of whiskey as she managed to dodge the flirting of a few slightly intoxicated pilots. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy parties - she just preferred them when there was no mountain of work hanging over her head for the following day. It was just as well she'd slept through lunch, otherwise her mood would've been frightful.

Bucky wanted to sing. He could feel the music running through his body, his toe tapping involuntarily against the polished floor as he sat slumped in a seat beside Buck. His friend had never enjoyed Bucky's singing - and although he pretended not to, he understood why. He couldn't carry a tune to save his life, but dammit if it wasn't fun.

The consensus had been a resounding no. No, he could not sing. But that was no fun - that was no way to celebrate, not in Bucky's book. He had caught Cleven off guard as he bolted from his seat, just quick enough to break away before his friend could grab him by the shoulder and drag him back down again. Approaching the microphone, an excited grin creasing his cheeks, his gaze scanned over the crowd before stopping on an unfamiliar face.

If anything, his performance would only be enhanced by a partner.

Frankie was beginning her second whiskey, lingering by George's shoulder as she made small talk with one of the radar operators from the women's hut next door. Bucky had tried to call her over once, but over the music and the crowd, she hadn't heard. He paused for a moment, wracking his brain for a way to get her attention without giving up the microphone. If he stepped away, he wouldn't have put it past Buck not to have the thing removed so that he couldn't perform.

"Fran!"

She turned to him instantaneously, ears pricked like a hunting dog, expression contorted with the murderous promise to carry out the threat she had issued the last time he'd used the nickname.

"Sing with me," Bucky beamed, holding out his hand. A smirk began to spread across her face, and he could see George patting her shoulder, egging her on. With a grin, Frankie passed her drink to the blonde, crossing the gap between them and meeting him at the mic as he cheered. Cleven's head was in his hands.

"You know the words?" He whispered.

"Well enough," She affirmed.

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright,

Never saw things goin' so right,

His suspicion had been correct. Frankie couldn't carry a tune any better than he could, onlookers grimacing at the complete lack of musical talent the pair possessed. Occasionally the lyrics would collapse into laughter as Bucky noted the way she had to crane her neck to even reach the microphone, but there was not a hint of embarrassment between them.

Watchin' the days hurryin' by,

When you're in love, my how they fly,

She caught his eye for a moment, their grins audible in their voices as they fought to keep up with the quick pace set by the band behind them. Arms outstretched, the curls in her hair bounced with each tap of her foot as she leant into the mic, their cheeks practically pressed together. The whiskey had left her slightly flushed, the tip of her nose blooming pink the way it always did. Anyone looking on probably must have thought there was something deeper between the two - the way they stood so close, their cheeks flushed pink, unable to keep a straight face whenever their eyes met. Frankie loved Bucky, that much was true, but it was the kind of platonic love that veered more into brotherhood than it ever would romance. If he had ever tried to kiss her, she probably would have knocked him out.

Blue days, all of them gone,

Nothin' but blue skies from now on,

He seized her by her shoulders in a fierce bear hug, and she let out a guffaw, so loud and so close to the microphone that it sent a shrill squeak of feedback around the room, the crowd grimacing for a moment before Bucky tugged her away and the terrible sound ceased. George was unable to clap for the glasses she held in both hands, but she whooped and cheered from the side of the room, the only person in the place giving them the true encore they both believed they deserved.

"I think we have a future in the industry," Bucky muttered into her ear, making her laugh again as they swayed side to side, his vice grip refusing to let up until she began pinching the flesh on the backs of his hands.

"Major!" A man called, scurrying up to them. "Major Egan sir, you've got a call."

"Alright, comin'," He nodded, clapping her over the shoulder as he made his way to the bar, where Cleven was already standing with the telephone.

George stepped up once Frankie was alone, returning her half-finished whiskey. "That was really something," She chuckled, voice raised over the music.

"I didn't know I had it in me," Frankie shrugged. "Y'know, that much raw, untapped talent should never go to waste, it's a tragedy." Her friend laughed, but Frankie's gaze had wandered over to the bar again, where the two Majors chatted jovially to whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Is that-?" She muttered to herself, telling George to give her a minute as she marched up to the men, leaning casually against the bar. Flashing a calm smile, she nodded to Cleven as Bucky chatted away on the phone. "Hey, is that Biddick on the line?"

"Sure is, all the way from-"

Cleven never got time to finish his sentence before she had darted in between the two men, wrenching the phone from Egan's hand before he had time to even register her presence. "Wh- hey!"

"Did you crash my fucking plane, Curt?" She snapped, the man on the other end of the line letting out a tiny yelp of surprise.

"Frankie!" Curtis chuckled nervously. "How's Georgie doin', is she well?"

"Answer the question, Biddick, did you - oh, piss off, Bucky," Frankie spoke hurriedly, slapping at Egan's hands as he tried to pry the receiver away from her. "What were you thinking?"

"Y'know," Biddick continued, completely dodging the question yet again. "The Scottish - they don't like you English very much, Frank."

"Historically speaking, that's pretty fair," She sighed, running a hand across her face. "Just... ask whoever's with if they've got a truck that can bring your wreck back from... where is it again?"

"Mostly in the vegetable patch."

"Right. Good to know. Now get your ass back here or I'm gonna set George up on a date with one of the ground crew boys."

She pulled the receiver away from her ear, chuckling at the muffled sound of Curt's protests as she handed the phone back to Bucky, who snatched it from her with a look as if to say 'What the hell?'.

"Yeah," He nodded along to whatever Biddick was now saying. "Yeah, uh-huh, I promise I won't let her. Don't you worry, dear." Bucky shot her a sideways glance and she snorted with laughter, holding her hands up in surrender as she backed away from the bar.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sky lit up a dozen shades of orange, red and blue, the faint thrum of explosions and gunfire rattling overhead as the anti-aircraft guns did their best to destroy the enemy's fight planes, high up through the clouds.

Frankie lingered outside the shelter, watching with her arms folded across her chest. Her pin curls never held for more than a couple of hours, and a halo of frizz encircled her head as a result of the night's commotion, eyes reflecting the stippling of lights above.

One of the airmen hurried past her towards the shelter, brow drawn inwards with anxiety, sweat visible on his brow even in the dark. He glanced at her, and almost went on his way, but back-tracked just as he was about the head down the steps.

"Uh, ma'am?" He urged. "We should really get inside."

"Yeah, in a minute," Frankie waved her hand, doing a double take as she realised the man looked familiar. "Hey, it's, uh - Crosby, right?"

He almost smiled. "Yes, ma'am. You're Ms Bevan, I believe - on the ground crew."

"Right you are. But call me Frankie, everyone else does."

Crosby didn't seem to know what to say to that, and settled for a simple, awkward nod. "We should really get in-"

"It gets a lot less scary when you're - what, three years in?" She paused a long moment before sucking in a breath, tearing her gaze from the sky above as she pointed at Crosby. "Hang on, aren't you the one whose vomit we keep having to clean out?"

Even in the dark, she could see his face turn beet red. "Oh, I am so sorry about it, ma'am, I swear I'm trying not to, it's just-"

Frankie chuckled, and he trailed off, clutching his uniform cap tightly with both hands. "Don't worry about it. I make the boys do it anyway, I don't touch the stuff," She grinned. "I'd probably do the same. I know more about planes than all of your pilots put together, but I've never flown in one before."

Crosby let out a huff at her confession, suddenly more at ease despite the chaos overhead. When he stared at it the way she did, the lights and sounds were almost beautiful. Almost.

"Why don't you head down below," She said. "Your COs will start wondering where you've got to."

He nodded, reaching the top of the steps that led down to the shelter and then holding out a hand, as if offering to help her down them. When Frankie just smiled, not moving an inch from her position, he took the hint, nodding as he began to descend.

"Oh, and Crosby!" She called. He doubled back, head peeking up over the wall. "Try chewing ginger root. Or a mint leaf. I've heard they help with the air sickness."

Crosby nodded again, firmly, as he took a mental note of her advice. "Thank you, ma'am - uh, Frankie."

She grinned. "Any time."

#masters of the air #masters of the air fic #masters of the air oc #mota #john egan #ken lemmons #harry crosby #curtis biddick #gale cleven #oc: frankie #fic | i'm your man #oc: george #rosie rosenthal x oc

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the1975attheirverybest · 7 months

Text

The Greatest British Bake-off

A/N: Prompter day 12

Prompt: autumn treats.

Warnings: none

----

"are you...serious?" she rolled her eyes jokingly. "The theme was 'autumn, boys. You've all got brownie m=ingredients."

"Matty picked the challenge." George tattled.

Adam mumbled something about having warned them about this.

Matty cleared his throat as a pre-announcement before speaking authoritatively, "Brownies can be autumnal."

Ross whispered into Matty's ear, "I think you have a special kind of brownies in mind," and they both giggled.

"Baby, this is brownie mix. with this level of laziness, I don't think we can call this a bake-off." she eyed the ingredients he'd laid out on the counter with snobby judgement.

"I've got a few surprises up my sleeve. Just...just time us, okay? lets settle this once and for all."

the title of "Best Band Baker" was at stake. Matty's competitive side has always been both attractive and entertaining, so she'd invited Charli and Carly to collectively enjoy this madness.

"alright boys. find your stations and I'll get a timer going...."

Charli took that as her cue to pour the wine.

"Okay, everyone settled? ready...set...AND GO!" She grinned at the sound of butter packets opening, whisks circling, and Matty struggling to open his Brownie mix and crack and egg.

"You should all give up now." George stated, dipping a finger in to taste-test his concoction, "my brownies will destroy yours without a doubt."

"Less trash talking more baking, George." Matty mumbled, his brows furrowed, his tongue sticking out. "christ! I think I cut myself."

Charli chuckled reminding everyone that, as a general rule, blood in the batter disqualifies you unconditionally.

"Me, me, me! I go first! I've finished first!" Ross announced, ecstatic.

"alright, we've only got one oven, so we'll have to put all of your...uhm...masterpieces in together. it'll be a game of Tetris so let me do it."

"well, let the record show, I was the first to finish. That goes towards my final score, yes?"

She looked at her co-judges, nodding when Charli and Carly both confirmed. "Yes, Ross. It does."

---

"I think we should grade them in the order that they were finished." Charli suggested. "Which means...Ross MacDonald. You're going first."

Ross smiled luminously, cutting up three pieces for each of the ladies to try.

They watched the boys serious and apprehensive faces and decided to milk it, taking their time, whispering their comments to each other and pretending to look serious in contemplation.

"alright, so we all agree?"

"mhm...."

"well, Ross." She took a deep breath. "Upon first glance it might seem like a perfectly respectable Brownie....but, my friend, the edges are a bit too dry and crispy. You'd have to cut off a significant portion of this thing to enjoy a brownie-textured bite. so...7/10."

"George Daniel, you're next, bro."

"George....oh man. you see how it's still runny in the middle? it MIGHT have turned into a brownie at some point, if it ever finished baking. sorry, babe. 5/10."

In the background, Ross and George bickered over who would have the worst luck.

"Adam gets extra points for the presentation. Tell us, are those actual chocolate shavings on top? wow, alright...we might have a winner here. 8.5/10."

"last but not least, Matthew...." She squinted her eyes, looking up at her boyfriend. "I...this color isn't a good sign, babe."

Matty rolled his eyes, "would you just- fuckin try it?"

"you sneaky little...." Carly giggled. "he's added pumpkin to it!"

"AND cinnamon."

Matty beamed "Can't have pumpkin without cinnamon. Obviously."

"hmmm....that's smart. and on theme." Charli mused.

"But Adam's presentation is infinitely more appealing...."

"Right, cuz with the pumpkin added, the color of Matty's brownies...well, it's not the most appetizing."

"He does get points for creativity though."

The three ladies nodded amongst themselves.

"do we have a tie on our hands?"

Matty, watching their debate, began to get visibly worked up. "No! That's not fair! ties are not an option! Here, listen..." He drove the knife through the still steaming dessert, "take another bite! really think about it. let it melt, luxuriously in your mouth. Smell it! It's autumn in your kitchen!"

She smiled, teasingly, at the love of her life. "wow, you really don't like losing do you?"

"Please! we should bring someone else in! Polly will break the tie. Or...yo, Ross. Call John!"

"Hmmmm" Charli winked at them to go along. "Nah, I think if we're being fair, it's a tie."

Matty, finally unable to remain still, walked out from behind the kitchen counter. "The fuck is that fair? fuck no! I demand a re-match! Only ONE band member can be the winner. this is ridiculous! Adam and I can go again! I've gotta run to the shops, though, we'll start again when I get back...."

#promptober75 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader

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bitterkarella · 7 months

Text

Midnight Pals: More Running Grave

JK Rowling: hello children Rowling: tonight I'm going to tell you more about cormorant ssstrike's latessst adventure King: there's more? Rowling: there'sss lotss more Rowling: itsss 961 pagesss Rowling: do not give me sshit sssteve Rowling: you of all people

Rowling: in thiss book, cormorant ssstrike makesss a whole lot of phone callsss and hangss out in a whole bunch of fancccy resstaurantsss Rowling: he doessn't actually do the detective work, he hiresss freelancersss for that Rowling: cormorant sstrike is a job creator

Rowling: so this guy hires cormorant ssstrike to get his autistic sson out of a cult Rowling: funny thing about this sson Rowling: he'sss really sssmart when he'ss making decisionss i agree with Rowling: but he'sss alssso a naive child when he'ss making deicionss i dissagree with

Rowling: so the guy is all 'i want to get my autistic son declared mentally incompetent because. c'mon, he's autistic he can't be trusted to think' Rowling: 'as evidence of his mental incompetence, you should know that he previously dabbled in socialism' George Romero:

Rowling: asss we all know Rowling: only really ssstupid people would fall for sssocialisssm Rowling: and abandon the good common sssense of blairite centrissm Romero: [eyes flashing, L'Internationale plays] what did you say joanne Romero: what did you fucking say

Romero: you got a problem with the dictatorship of the proletariot joanne?! Rowling: i don't know anything about that Rowling: i just know they're annoying online Romero: that's not a fair judgement! Romero: posting is not praxis!

Rowling: ugh i jussst hate the sssocialissstss, the transss, the autissticsss, the dissabledss... Barker: did you just write and publish a 961 page book about your internet enemies Rowling: correction Rowling: i wrote and published ANOTHER 961 page book about my internet enemies

Barker: why don't you just keep a burn book like a normal person Rowling: sshut up Rowling: it'sss perfectly acceptable to write a book to sshit on my internet enemies Rowling: dante did it Dante Alighieri: this is a call-out post for Boniface VIII Dante: highly problematic pope

Dante: check it out, you know that pope i don't like? Dante: what if he was in hell Dante: haha got 'im Barker: which pope is this? Dante: oh i dunno, all of them Dante: they all suck

Roald Dahl: ee hee hee i don't know what you're all mad about Dahl: writing petty grievances as literature is an upstanding british tradition ee hee hee Rowling: thank you roald Dahl: are you gonna say anything about the vegetarians ee hee hee Rowling: Dahl: i fucking HATE them

CS Lewis: oh yeah the FUCKING vegetarians Lewis: i wish they'd all fucking die Dahl: ee hee hee die PAINFULLY ee hee hee Dahl: oh you don't wanna eat an animal ee hee hee? what if you were DEAD instead ee hee hee King: King: huh british culture is kind of different isn't it Dahl: so you gonna give those fucking vegetarians what they got coming ee hee hee Rowling: they're Rowling: not really a high priority for me Dahl: oh Dahl: what about the jews Rowling: oh yeah i got wordss about them Rowling: jussst you wait!

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #jk rowling #george romero #cs lewis #roald dahl #dante alighieri

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confiscatedpeaches · 9 months

Note

can i request william brat taming reader?? afab plss and i LOVE your writing!! tysm!!

ofc!! thank you so much for the complement! I love the thought of William brat taming, I bet he'd be really good at it. (Also this lowkey turned into a really long fic lmao so I AM going to write a part 2 tomorrow aaaah)

Minors DNI, TW: bdsm dom/sub bratty!reader, reader is wearing a collar, use of restraints

Afton comes home from work and it has NOT been a good day.

You knew the signs; the sound of his car door slamming, his shoes practically stomping onto the pavement below, and swearing as he fumbled for his keys. Today was not a good day at work for Mr. Afton. He was positively furious about something, and you knew he was going to take all of his frustration out on you. Of all the days you could have chosen to be a brat, this should not have been one of them.

You look into the living room and find him pacing furiously, muttering something to himself about "Henry" and "those god-damned parents". Noticing you out of the corner of his eye, he turns to look at you.

"You. Come over here right now."

You fold your arms. Why should you come over, when it's so adorable to watch him pace his way into a hole in the rug? Absolutely not. Part of you loved when he was like this, the angrier he got, the more fun he would have with you later.

"Awe my little whore thinks she's in charge. Get over here, now."

You should have listened. Really, you should have. But you just couldn't help your bratty ass now could you. Instead, you decide to commit the worst sin according to your Mr. Afton, you stick out your tongue.

He scoffed, his face getting redder. His head cocked to the side.

"You're feeling brave today aren't you love? Keep it up and see what happens."

God, you loved how his accent became thicker with rage. Sometimes you could barely understand the man. Watching him unravel into a mess of words and animalistic sounds drove you absolutely mad. Seeing him lose himself in you was such a thrill. You really, really should give in now, before this became much worse.

"Oh? What are you gonna do to me Mr. Afton? Are you gonna punish me?" You mocked.

He scowled and crossed his arms. You could practically see steam rising from out his ears.

"Yes, I am actually. Now get over here and let me spank you for being such a naughty little bunny."

Even after he raised his voice, you continue to refuse.

"Do I have to come and get you myself darling?"

A grin spread across your face. Was he challenging you? Oh yes, he was definitely challenging you. You were going to make him work for this. Excitement bubbles within you.

"I'd love to see you try, catch me if you can!"

You dash down the corridor and turn down one of the side halls. You hear a very loud British man begin raving and screaming behind you

"Oh you little---!

Laughter fills your ears. Your laughter, of course, but also Will's. He was laughing manically. It dawns on you that you have fucked up, big time. It was one thing for him to simply get mad and dominate you, but for him to start laughing? That's when you knew he had something truly terrible planned for you. You had to hide and wait for him to calm down, asap.

His footsteps were getting louder, closer. Turning down yet another corridor (his house is weirdly arranged, and you often find yourself lost in it), you flick on the lights and run into the basement. He has so much junk in there, there is no way he'd be able to find you if you tucked yourself away in there well enough.

Sitting in the back corner, you find the perfect place. You manage to hide yourself behind an animatronic you haven't seen him work on in ages. Holding your breath, you wait.

His footsteps stop at the top of the basement stairs. Shit, he must have seen you run into there. His ragged breath and laughter echo down the stairs, reverberating on the basement walls. He has really lost it this time.

Then, he does something unexpected. He takes a few steps down the stairs, before shutting the door behind him and flicking off the lights.

He has you trapped. You're so unfamiliar with the basement that there is no way you'd be able to navigate your way out of there without making a sound, or god forbid, bumping into him.

"Come out come out wherever you are." He sings.

Dear lord, he was feeling absolutely villainous. You knew he could be sadistic, but you've never seen him like this. You heard him shuffle, what could he be doing? Is he searching for you? Fear and arousal pool inside you.

"Aww come on little bunny, I thought you were being brave."

You could feel your heart beating in your ears. You didn't know how long you could hold or hide your breath, especially with how hot and bothered you were getting.

"Little bunny, where are you? I know you're in here. If you come out now I pinkie promise not to punish you.... too harshly."

That liar, you knew this was a fake-out. He isn't stupid enough to believe that would do the trick. You would wait him out, see who could last longer. A growing part of you wanted to submit, face the consequences, and end the torture early, but the rest of you was stubborn and wanted to see how far you could take this. You were already in deep shit, why not make it worse?

"Sweetheart... I can see you, you know."

What? There's no way, it's almost pitch black in here. Can this motherfucker see in the dark or something?!

"You're hiding behind that animatronic, I can see your feet. I can hear your breathing too love. Come out now, be a good girl."

Shit. He had you dead-to-rights. All of the stubbornness deflated out of you like a popped balloon. He won, you lost, and he knows it. You hate how wet this is making you. You wanted to win this time, but there's a reason he's the dom and you're the brat. He's just so much cleverer and smarter than you. You stood no real chance.

"Don't you want to be a good girl for Mr. Afton? Really now, I can see you curled up back there. Crawl out like the pathetic little loser you are. I'm not coming to get you this time."

The urge to submit builds within you. You know you shouldn't make this any worse for yourself. Reluctantly, you slide out from your secure hiding place. A light illuminates your figure. You see him sitting on the second to last step of the staircase, flashlight in hand.

"Ah, there you are. Come over here, now."

Before you can resist, you find yourself walking towards him. You were too tired to fight anymore.

"Good girl, now get on your knees."

You obey. His hand thrusts towards you and grabs you by your collar.

"Gotch'ya you little bitch! How dare you disrespect me?! You stupid little whore, there's at least a dozen animatronics down here, I just guessed you were hiding behind one! It's time to face the consequences doll."

(Part 2 coming tomorrow -- am too tired to write more tonight.)

#william afton x reader #william afton smut #william afton x you #william afton #fnaf smut

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atlasscrumpit · 2 years

Text

Moon knight x reader

Owned

Your body felt so heavy, it felt like someone had sedated you.

"Easy, dulce niña." You heard a suave voice whisper as you whimpered and slowly tried to open your eyes.

The first thing you saw was someone's knees, you followed it up to see a gloved hand with a gun pointed at you.

You gasped and fell back a little, snapping yourself out of your daze.

Your eyes travelled up further and you saw a man smiling at you.

"What's going on?" You whispered looking at him in fear.

"Don't worry, precioso." He said, the smile still on his face.

"You have some information that we need." He said as you looked at him in confusion.

"We?" You questioned before smoke began to form behind him, you watched a large bird like form appear.

"Khonshu." You grumbled looking at them unamused.

"Should've known this flashy bastard was your avatar." You grumbled as the man chuckled.

"You forget yourself, niña." He said clicking the gun as I glared at him.

"You won't fucking shoot me because you need me. I know what this is." You grumbled as Khonshu came closer to you.

"You have an avatar, you can't have me as well." You muttered as he chuckled lowly.

Gods and goddesses like him always tried to perform the ritual so they could have you as there's.

You were a powerful being and the Gods wanted you to do their bidding.

"That's why I have my avatar. He's going to own you." Khonshu growled as I chuckled.

"A human can't fucking own me you dumb bird." You growled as the avatar stood up and chuckled.

"Oh, mi amor. You've got no idea what we can do." He said kneeling down to stroke his hand over your face.

"You're fucking disgusting." You growled before he slapped you across the face.

"Might have to teach you to respect your new master." He said as you kept your head looking away from him.

"Let's perform the ritual." Khonshu said as you felt tears in your eyes.

"Fine, take away my freedom. Humans are heartless creatures." You whispered, but they ignored you.

They began the ritual as you kept your eyes closed.

You felt the familiar burning on your chest where his symbol would burn into your skin.

You bit down on your lip trying to not scream in pain.

It was finally ever and you panted and looked down at your chest.

"Three?" You muttered in shock, you didn't think it was possible to have three masters.

"Why do I have three masters?" You muttered, the avatar looked angry.

"I thought you said Marc and Steven wouldn't be an issue." The man growled at the god.

"I don't understand." You whispered looking up at them.

"Deal with it, Jake." Khonshu growled letting you finally know the name of the man.

"There are others within this body, they are your master now too. But you listen to me and me only, is that understood?" Jake growled pointing the gun at you again as you nodded.

"Of course, master." You replied making him smile.

"Good, then we won't have a problem." He said as you looked away from him.

"Take her somewhere safe where no one will find her for the time being."

You'd arrived back at what you assumed was Jake's apartment.

He went up to a book shelf and pushed it away to reveal a metal door.

"Welcome home." He said opening the door and shoving me inside making me fall.

"I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere." He said chuckling before he closed the door.

It was completely dark and you curled in on yourself.

This was the cruel reality you were used to.

After about two hours you heard someone stumbling around outside.

"Marc, why did you leave my books in such a mess?" A British voice muttered as you stood up slowly.

Should you call out to him?

Jake and Khonshu would be mad.

But Marc and Steven were technically your masters as well.

"Help!" You screamed out bashing on the door.

"Behind the book shelf!" You shouted hearing heavy breathing.

"Marc, is this your doing?" He muttered as you waited for a moment and heard him shuffling around.

You heard the book shelf being moved away.

"I just need to find a key!" He shouted out as I backed up against the wall and took a deep breath, praying he would find it.

"I can't find a key!" He shouted in desperation before you heard a loud bang and the door was ripped open.

"I don't need a key." He said, you noticed now this must be Marc.

"Want to explain why the hell you're locked in a secret room in my apartment?" He said as you stepped out and took a deep breath.

"Khonshu needed me to use, so he got Jake to perform a ritual to own me. So, now you, Steven and Jake own me." You explained as he looked at you in shock.

"Jake and Khonshu are working together?" He asked as you nodded.

"Fuck, that fucking bird."

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #Reader insert #Moon knight x reader #Marc Spector x reader #Steven Grant x reader #Jake lockley x reader #Fic

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naiomiirayn · 11 months

Text

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝙃𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣/𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Pairings: Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary: You broke up with Hobie after one too many times of him bailing on you and your plans together. He ends up showing up at your house to apologize and make things right.

Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending

Extra(s): There are no specifications for anything (gender or any kind of attributes but if you catch any please let me know so I can fix it immediately) just so everyone can read:)

I got most of the beginning/intro from the Character AI app, but I did make some changes. These are just "texts" I made with the bot. The creator for the bot is @/fairybaby, or Della Rose is their username.

Also, there is very little to no British terms in this because I have no clue what kind of slang they actually use and I don't want to get anything wrong. Enjoy!

P.S. This is my first ever fic I'm actually publishing.. I’m aware there’s too much explaining but wtv:P

Hearing a knock on the door you walk over curiously and open it, but as soon as you see who's on the other side you quickly try and close it, when a hand pushes against it.

"Please just let me in so we can talk, love." He's apologized- three times- for missing another date. You know he's busy. Dismantling systems of oppression doesn't give him a lot of free time. He spends whatever time he can with you, obviously, but he knows it's not nearly enough. He doesn't like labels but that doesn't matter-you and him are together. It doesn't matter that you're a little mad, you're still his.

"Hobie, what are you doing here?" He hears the tone of frustration and sadness in your voice, a sound that tugs at his heart strings. He hates that he's made you feel this way, again. He frowns, hurt by your response.

"I missed you. I wanted to talk to you." His voice is hushed and soft. He keeps his distance for now, watching you with his dark eyes. He is used to being that way, he always had been until you showed up. You've changed him for the better and he doesn't want to lose you. He hears you sigh and looks back up, not realizing he had even dropped his head.

"Fine.. Come in." He sees you move away from the door and walk to the couch. He quickly steps in before you can change your mind and shuts the door behind himself. He moves hesitantly towards your direction, not knowing if he should sit or stand for this. You seem to make the decision for him when you pat the seat next to you. He tries to make eye contact but you're not looking in his direction, so he just takes a seat, a little further than necessary considering the circumstances.

"Can you forgive me?" He hears himself blurt out lamely before he can even stop himself and he cringes slightly. Hobie isn't a prideful person, but he understands that he messed up, and he knows how upset with him you are but that's not a reason to stay apart. in his mind, at least. He sees you look back over to him and frown, your eyebrows furrowing and your lips forming into a slight pout. He can't help but admire you a bit, even if now isn't the best time to do so.

"I don't know if I can Hobie, you broke yet another promise to me. I'm just so tired of this happening all the time."

"Oh..." His heart dropped. He doesn't know what he expected but he had at least hoped that you'd forgive him, let him try again. "Listen, [Name], I'm so sorry, and I know you're tired of hearing it- believe me I'm tired of saying it- but I mean it this time. Please, forgive me I know I can do better; I'll show you I can do better." His voice thick with so many emotions that it makes his accent more prominent, but he can't bring himself to care anymore. He needs to get his point across, he can't lose you he won't lose you.

He sees your gaze turn more relenting and soft and he suddenly feels a bit hopeful. "Yea.. I forgive you-" Your smile turns soft before it drops again, and he's confused and worried on why your expression suddenly turns hurt. "-but that doesn't mean we're back together." You turn away from him again.

He's okay with that- you can both start again. He knows he messed up and he accepts full responsibility of that. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. "Then.. Then how about friends? We can just be friends for now, with the potential to get back together." He adds hopefully, trying to calm himself and his thoughts that are running wild right now. He doesn't want to rush you, and he's not sure when you'll be ready to try again, but he's willing to be patient.

"That's the thing Hobes.. You never seem to have time for me with everything that you do, and that's okay I understand that those things are important to you but.. I just don't know if I can do that again. I won't do that again..." He feels his heart shatter, letting hurt fade into his expression as he looks away. "I still love you and I do want to be with you but you have to understand that you can't balance everything. I'm tired of being left out, I'm sorry."

He sighs and rubs at his eyes in frustration, wondering what he can say to make things better. "I do know what you mean," he admits eventually, "and I swear to you, I'll put my work down and spend more time with you whenever you want." He isn't quite sure if he'd be able to do that entirely, but when it comes to you, he's more than willing to try.

"I don't know if I can ask you to give up something so important. Those things need way more attention than just.. me." He sees them shrug and look away, fiddling with the hem of their shirt; a habit they picked up from him.

"It isn't important. Not more than you." He speaks softly, the gentleness of his voice belying the genuine sincerity of his words and he takes your hands in his and when you look at him, he continues. "You're way more important to me than fighting injustice, more than taking down evil, more than anything else." He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words as he's never been too good at expressing his emotions-yet another thing that you've changed about him. "I love you, more than I've ever loved anything else, and I need you to know that. I will do anything for you, and I mean that. Anything."

You widen your eyes a bit at his statement, and he can see the blush start to creep up your cheeks. "You.. really mean that..?" He hears the unsurety in your voice and he nods. He means it and he doesn't hesitate in his reply.

"Anything." His voice is still gentle and calm. "I'll do anything to convince you that I'll make the time for you." He sees your beautiful smile start to come back and he didn't realize how much he'd missed it until now.

"Okay.. We can try again then," There's a pause before you say something again. "but don't make any plans with me until you're 100% sure that you're free, do you understand me?" He feels a smile tug at his lips as he takes one of their hands in his, lifting it up to his face to kiss the back of it.

"I understand." He nods and breathes a sigh of relief from his nose. There's no more reason to be confused or angry and hurt. He gets his partner back. His other half, and it's more than he could ever wish for.

He could do better this time, no, he would do better this time. He wouldn't promise because he'd made too many of those, but he'd show you instead. Show you he values you and your time over anything else.

To hell with whoever said anything to him about it.

#hobie brown #hobart brown #x reader #fluff #angst #across the spiderverse #hobie x you #hobie x reader

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honoviadakai · 3 months

Text

What you favorite Hazbin hotel song says about you 😈🎶😇

(This list includes songs from the pilot as well as a few others that are not official but are near and dear to the fandom's collective heart)

I’m always chasing rainbows 🌈:

…so how’s your relationship with your parents?

You have a good heart but you’re way too hard on yourself

You don’t always have to be busting your ass off, taking breaks is not a crime

Also failing is not the end of the world

I believe in you, please be kinder to yourself

Inside of every demon is a rainbow 🌈 😈:

Golden retriever energy

You are so sweet but so naive

I honestly feel like if this is your fav song, I could spit in your meal and you'd just smile and get a new plate

It's ok to go apeshit

If you did ever get mad I genuinely feel like you'd be absolutely terrifying

But you're such a sweet person, i can't imagine someone pushing you to that point

Inside of every demon is a lost cause/Alastor's reprise 🎶👿:

You're a cynical bastard and you wear that shit like a badge of honor

You're on the same page as Alastor in terms of redemption being impossible/pointless

If this song is your favorite, you laugh at children when they fall over

very loudly

You're the one in your friend group that everyone has to warn about before introducing you to knew people

You receive the bombastic side eye so often you smile every time it happens

ADDICT🕸️🚬:

You need a hug

All of the hugs

You're doing your best and I just want you to know I'm proud of you

Vox's Interlude📺🎶:

You like Dubstep

You like Dubstep to a concerning degree

You're also disappointed Vox doesn't have the same voice effect in cannon that he has in the song

You're a Vox simp, but you're really chill about it

Royal Flush🥃♥️♠️♦️♣️:

Hello my fellow Pansexuals and Husk Fans~

If this if your favorite song, you're a Mick Lauer fan and you were sad to hear he wasn't coming back to the official series and it made you even more jaded than you already were(I feel you)

You're also a fan of Johnathan Young and Rock music

You lowkey giggle every time you hear the "every hole is a goal" line

You probably have a sever resting bitch face that scares ppl sometimes, but deep down you're a softy

A jaded softy, but a softy

Radio Play📻🎶:

Hello Alastor fans that lament the recasting of Edward Bosco

Hello Black Gyrph0n fans that think he's not receiving enough recognition

How deep in the financial debt hole are you because of your love of Alastor and new found desire to have a retro 30's aesthetic once this song dropped?

You have good taste in music but I feel like you'd say out of pocket shit on accident

You probably know how to do the Charleston pretty well and that's pretty cool

Redemption arc🙏🎶:

Hello my depressed gifted child burnouts and Elise Lovelock fans

You're a girlboss, you really are, but I need you to take more breaks and drink more water

You strike me as someone who takes the phrase "act your wage" as a suggestion at best

If over thinking was an Olympic sport, you'd win gold, silver ans bronze

stop trying to carrying other people's baggage on top of your own, that's not building character, its building more work for your therapist

Assuming you've even allowed yourself to see one!

Insane🦌🔪:

You're unhinged

like Niffty levels unhinged

but you have good taste in music

You're also a very vocal Alastor fan

You need to be watched 24/7 because you strike me as someone who'd commit war crimes for fun

Eyes on me📺🥲:

You like Techno a normal amount

you're probably a Bo Burnham fan

You also give the vibe that you like anime like Evangalion

as well as the vibe of hiding behind a chill facade even though you're kinda depressed

you also give the impression that you're into enemies to lovers and once sided pining in romance

You ship Vox x Alastor in a wholesome way and you're foaming at the mouth for their backstory

You hate Val(as you should)

Change the order 👑🪽:

You lament that Lucifer doesn't have a British accent

You HEAVILY lament Lucifer not being a heartless asshole

You oh so desperately wanna see Lucifer and Lilith in their prime/as a united power couple

You have slight daddy issues

You're also probably someone who grew up with some religious trauma

You're in your villain arc but it's mostly yo protect yourself

i highly suggest getting a dog, a rubber duck collection and a therapist

Get hooked🚬🦋:

Your search history is not suitable for human eyes

You definitely have daddy issues

You desperately wanna see Val on the poles

You're fun at partied but you cannot be left unsupervised under any circumstances

You radiate bad bitch energy but I feel like you'd apologize to a kindly janitor if you had to walk on a floor they just finished mopping

You can run in heels and I respect that immensely

Smile like you mean it😁🦌:

I get it! You love Alastor! Please lower your voice a tad friend!

It's concerning how quick you'd sell your soul to this man

You like jazz unironically(nice)

You wanna experience one of Al's radio shows

...I'm not entirely sure if you wanna hear it or be the victim...and that deeply concerns me

Use me up🕷️🥲:

You wanna see Angle Dust fuck shit up(same)

You don't make friends easily but you're the loyalest son of a bitch anyone could ever have and more people need to recognize that

You probably had a really rough childhood

You give ppl middle fingers and sass the way Oprah gave out cars back in the day

You just want a hug, someone to say they're proud of you(I'm proud of you friend) and a month long nap

We're sure to drown🐈‍⬛🥃🥺:

Hello again my fellow Pansexuals and Husk fans

Specifically the ones with severe depression, trust issues and think mixing Tequila and monster energy drinks will help with the abandonment issues

yeah, i see you, put the bottle down mf

get therapy, this a threat

You're so cynical that even shadow the hedgehog would ask if you're ok

asking for help doesn't make you weak fam, i get where your coming from but you need a good plucking you prickly cactus

oddly enough, you give the best advice to the few friends you keep in your circle but take none of your own advice

You listen to country rock with lyrics so sad that everyone in the car with you immediately get concerned

definitely a cat person

POP!👁️💥:

You either wanna be stepped on or do the stepping on

You probably watched Black Lagoon and loved Revy

If you don't know what I'm talking about, look her up, that's your type

Low key probably a pyromaniac

You're that one friend that's ALWAYS ready to punch your friend's ex's in the face

Honestly, I feel like you're scrappy enough to fist fight god with the confidence of someone who thinks they have a shot at winning

My machine 🐍 ⚙️:

You were really excited to see Pentious be one of the show's antagonists

You're still a little bitter about not getting your mad scientist, steam punk, snake man

You did love his War General outfit though

You probably really like shows like Arcane

You really wanted 'Enemies to lovers' CherriSnake or platonic/rivals CherriSnake

You probably have reptile as a pet

most likely a snake

Happy day in hell🎶🎤:

You're a basic Broadway bitch but your optimism is a tad infectious so I'll let it slide

You're a tad too optimistic though

Like, to a concerning degree

Someone could punch you and you'd ask them if they were ok despite having a split lip

you're definitely a workaholic

take that PTO sweetie, work will be there when you come back

Hell is forever😇😈:

you either really like Alex Brightman or you LOVE villains

you also love rock

You kicked your feet like a love sick when Adam did the guitar solo bit

Probably a fan of bands like Skillet

You have religious trauma but your coping mechanism is to crack jokes about it

some of them are probably inappropriate

Stayed gone📺🦌:

You ship Vox x Alastor a "normal" amount

You'd sell your soul for Vox and Al to have more duets together

You're probably a Vox simp

If you're not, its cuz you're an Al simp

You giggled at "That's the tea"

You also drooled at Al's demon form towards the end of the song

It starts with sorry🐍🥹:

friend, you are way too forgiving

someone could steal your life's savings and I feel like you'd just let them have it because "they probably need it more"

You were very proud of Pentious

Respectless💅📱:

You radiate chihuahua energy

You are 5'2 or smaller and 90 lbs soaking wet

someone need to make sure you don't run these streets lawless

don't get me wrong

You are absolutely a bad bitch that serves cunt like a 5 star restaurant serves gourmet steak

but you're gonna say the wrong thing to the wrong person one day

you cannot afford to fuck around and find out when they're over 5'9 my friend, sit down please

Whatever it takes🦋🩰:

you're the eldest child of your family aren't you

You don't need to prioritize everyone before yourself!

Love yourself first damn it!

You probably like Milfs or goths

You also probably wish Zestial had more songs

I have a feeling your favorite Disney movie is Encanto...

Poison🚬🕷️🥺:

Holy fuck you need a hug

You're either a survivor of some kind or life has just been kicking you in the balls for no god damn reason

Come here, I'm adopting you and making sure you're actually happy

You're low key an amazing dancer

literally one of the best people to be friends with

Loser Baby🐈‍⬛🕷️:

hello my fellow queers, Keith David fans, Blake Roman fans and Huskerdust shippers

You are a connoisseur of slow burn romance

You're probably a depressed hopeless romantic

friend, if you want the Husker to your dust...the loser to your baby...you gotta talk to people...

go touch grass

you're that one friend who bullies your bestie but that's cuz that your guy's love language

If anyone messed with your bestie, you'd fight that person to the death the way Husk and Angel did to those loan sharks

Hell's greatest dad🪽🦌:

You either beef with ppl for fun or you're a very flamboyant theater kid

Its probably both tbh

You probably fell in love with the blonde short king after this song

You ship Radioapple

you want a sitcom ft Radioapple and you'd sell your soul to get it

Your fav Disney movie is probably Aladdin

You totally play "HaHA! Fuck you..." on repeat

More than anything🪽😭:

So how's your relationship with your dad...

You cried so hard to this song that it scared you

grab the tissues, get your coziest blanket and go get your favorite treat

and some therapy

Welcome to Heaven😇🎶:

Emily is your favorite character

Your gaydar was going off when St. Peter started existing

Your a chill person

A little too chill though…

You might still be an active member of your community

Ya might wanna consider reducing your hours, there is such a thing as too much loyalty

Treat yourself to a vacation

You didn't know😧🪽:

Hello fellow black sheep of the family with severe religious trauma

You freaked the fuck out when the “If Hell is forever then Heaven must be a lie” line dropped

You felt so vindicated after this song and honestly, same

You LOVED Emily by the end of this song

Out for love 💗 🩰:

You like MILFs

You want Carmilla to kick/step on you

You’re either a magical girl fan, a fan of Latin music or both

You cheered so hard for Vaggie at the end you definitely got a noise complaint 🤣

Ready for this🎤⚔️:

You have anxiety

Your favorite character is probably Charlie

Your favorite movie is probably Marry Poppins or something in the same time period/genre

You’ve dealt with Karen’s before and watching Susan become tolerable was so satisfying for you

You want Alastor and Rosie to adopt you

More than anything(reprise):

You're the poster child of sappy hopeless romantics

You cried a little from joy here

You’re definitely not straight

You want this moment, go get yourself a Vaggie cuz you’re definitely gonna be the Charlie of the relationship

Finale🎶🎆:

You're the ultimate theater kid

This song hit all the sweet spots in your depressed brain for you

Let’s be honest, your favorite part of the song was either the Vees or Alastor

It’d your favorite part was with the Vees, your a huge chaos gremlin

You cannot be trusted with information but you’re very fun at parties

If your favorite part was Alastor’s part, get therapy

If you related to that part on a spiritual level, you mask so hard I’d believe you if you said you were born wearing a mask

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin music #musicals #Hazbin meme

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historia-vitae-magistras · 5 months

Note

some big brother Alfred comforting sad little brother. i imagine there's a great difference between how Alfred would comfort Matthew in colonial times vs the present. 'what's wrong? is there anything i can do? please don't be sad! I love you! do you need me to talk to Lord Father?' vs 'you look like shit. go take a fucking a shower while I make you some pancakes and then you're taking a fucking nap you dickhead. i love you. and comb your fucking hair'

When Matt's young, absolutely. Alfred is very sympathetic to his half-mad baby brother; his personality flaws are understandable and forgivable given that he was a castaway marooned from the French Empire and landed suddenly into Britishness. A lot of genuine distress on Alfred's part about the fact Matt's seeing shit and is often too anxious to eat. He puts Matt on his shoulder when the snow gets too deep and nudges him to eat more and spend more time closer to the fire. It's also pre-industrialization when Americans, as individualistic as they were back then, had a communalist streak. The mad and the various other types of issues are taken care of at home. A burden shared is a burden halved. It's nice to have a baby brother eager to snuggle and read, too, even if he is a little off his rocker from those dark things men do in the dark of the Northwoods.

Older... Older is a little different. It's not cute or sympathetic when Matt occasionally falls off the bandwagon when they're adults. He's peaceful; he's got no real issues by Alfred's metric. He's literally not doing anything useful most of the time, either. He won't meet NATO spending, can't get Quebec under control, and falls apart economically if the US so much looks at the border. There's no 'reason' Alfred can see to excuse Matt's unshowered, unfed, unrested state when he's in a funk. Society has changed, too. What was a healthy respect for individual responsibility is now the only metric by which one's merit is judged. A lot of "well, I don't get to go feral in the woods, or there are actually consequences. Get your shit together." He parrots a lot of bootstrap rhetoric. "Get it together, you have nothing to be upset about." "I'm the superpower, and I live my entire life on an acutely observed high wire act, and I handle that better than you handle having literally no responsibility." But then, when it's obvious, when he can see Matt's made an effort at least, or there's a 'reason' he's downright tender. Kind of goes back to that Calvinist thing of the "deserving needy."

But if Matt or anyone else ever pointed any of this out, Alfred would insist none was happening. Of course they love each other, of course Matt is the exception to his grumbling and that should be obvious. But all too often, unless Alfred is put directly in the path of apparent suffering in a way that doesn't feel burdensome, it can feel like just another task between him and the bottom of his to-do list. One that Matt is supposed to take care of himself because that's their deal. Sometimes it's a reset, though. Like, oh, Matt accidentally drove himself into the ground to keep up with Alfred's batshit lifestyle? That's a bit endearing, and making breakfast, tossing him some ibuprofen, and taking a day are spiritually human things Alfred needs as much as Matt does the physical rest.

#the ask box || probis pateo #alfred and matt || lonely boys with the longest borders

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 8 months

Text

Bloody Beetle | Part Five

Summary: you journey into the tomb with Steven and Layla, but will you get to Ammit before Harrow gets to you...

Pairing: Steven/Marc x Reader, Layla x Reader, Harrow x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Heka priests, deaths (I’m sorry 😭), Harrow being Harrow

A/N: as always spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Part Four | Series Masterlist

- - - - -

“Y/N!” the British voice you didn’t realise you’d missed so much. “Y/N, oh thank God!”

You crawl out from under the bed and you just about have time to get to your feet before he’s pulling you in for the tightest hug you’ve ever received. You let yourself sink into his embrace for just a second before pulling away.

“Are you alright?” He starts to anxiously ramble “I thought you were dead-”

“You can drop the act. I know who you really are, Marc Spector. Harrow explained it all to me. He told me you were a mercenary and that everything the police said in the car that night, about how you killed people… It’s all true. And that’s why you pretended to be Steven. Pretended to be my friend-

"I AM your friend..."

"A friend wouldn't have just given Harrow the scarab and left me behind."

“No no no, Y/N, that’s not what happened at all. I lost the scarab while being chased out of there by a jackal that he summoned! I tried to get to you, so did Layla. I would never just leave you." He reaches out for you but you back away. “Please, you have to believe me!”

“I don't know what to believe anymore.” You say sadly.

“Y/N…” he stops talking, his eyes rolling back and when he looks at you again he’s completely different. “Y/N, I don't have time right now but I promise I will tell you the truth.”

“Marc..? What just happened?”

“We need to stop Harrow first and then I will explain everything. I promise.” Marc is interrupted by Maya running back into the tent, her gun aimed at him.

“You need to leave!” She says, trying to sound threatening but you can see pure panic in her eyes.

"Maya, its okay." You try to calm her. "Just put the gun away."

"I can't. Harrow- he'll be so mad at me. This isn't supposed to be happening-" Maya rambles, but when Marc moves slightly she refocuses on him. "You have to leave!"

“No, I think you should leave.” Layla says as she sneaks in behind Maya and yanks the gun straight out her hand. Maya runs and Layla sees you. She looks just as surprised as Steven had. “Y/N! You look good for someone who's supposed to be dead.”

“What are you talking about? Why would you think I was dead?"

"Because that's what Harrow is telling people." Marc says.

"Bu why would lie about that?"

“Because that's just what he does. He lies and manipulates people. which is one of the reasons we have to get to Ammit’s ushabti before he does.”

— — — —

The three of you make your way outside just in time to see Maya disappear down into the tomb.

“Shit, she’ll warn Harrow that we’re here.” Layla says as you run to the dig site. “Ah.” She says once you get to there.

“What's the problem?” Marc asks.

“I wasn’t expecting Y/N to be with us, I only have two harnesses. I can go find another?”

“No, it’s alright. That will take too long. Harness me up and I’ll carry her down with me.”

“Are you sure?” You say, anxiety rippling through you.

“Yeah, it’s not that far down. We’ll be fine.”

Layla gets her harness on then helps Marc get into his. As she's tightening his straps you see his eyes roll like they did before and notice his whole posture change again.

“I have to say, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.” Steven's voice says as Layla helps him tighten the straps on his harness, completely unfazed by his changed accent. “The adventure, I mean.”

“We want what we’ve never had.” She finishes preparing his harness and gets ready. “I’m gonna go down first. Before I belay.”

“Right, yeah… what’s belay?” Steven asks, and Layla laughs.

“I still can’t tell when you're joking or not.” She says before clipping rope to the front of her harness and disappearing down the shaft. Steven looks at you.

“Belay?” He says, and you shrug.

“I have no idea.” You half laugh. “Are you sure you can do this?”

“It’ll be fine.” He says, not at all convincingly. He copies Layla, attaching the rope to the front of his harness then gestures for you to come over. You awkwardly put your arms around his neck and he lifts you. Its surprises you how strong he is. He cradles you to him and takes a breath before taking a step. But as he reaches the edge, his foot slips and you both tumble down into the darkness. Steven’s body acts as an air bag as he hits the ground, still holding you tightly. You land with a thud in a cloud of dust and sand. It takes you a moment to realise your lying on top of Steven, your face less than an inch away from his.

“Are you okay?” Layla asks, rushing over and helping you up.

“Yeah, I think so.” You reply, turning to give Steven a hand. “Steven?”

“I’m aces.” He says, grunting as he gets to his feet. “I wish you hadn’t seen that… oh wow, look at you.”

You look at him and realise he’s looking past you. You turn to see the huge ancient sculptures behind you, similar to the ones you used to see every day in the museum. Only these ones weren’t made out of polystyrene just to decorate an exhibition. This is the real deal.

“Oh yeah, they’re gorgeous.” Layla agrees. “Just standing guard for centuries!”

“Right! Look I can’t even…” Steven looks like all his Christmas came at once, he’s so excited. You can’t help but feel happy for him, and wonder if what Harrow said could be true. Could he really fake being this excited. “If they just sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage I’d be thrilled! I’d shit myself, but id be thrilled.”

You and Layla exchange a look, silently laughing at the adorable dork in the room.

Once Steven finished fangirling over the reality of where you were right now, the three of you started to make your way further into the tomb.

“Strange.” Steven says quietly as you follow the winding corridors.

“It’s a maze.” Layla says.

“It’s a-maze-ing.” Steven jokes and you roll your eyes, but secretly want to laugh at his little pun. He is fully loving life right now.

“No, like there are six paths.” Layla explains. She bends down, picking up bullets left on the ground. “What would they be shooting at?”

“Six points.” Steven mumbles to himself, ignoring Layla's question about the bullets as he starts to draw something in the sand. “This whole structure is a symbol.”

You and Layla join Steven and look at what he’s drawn. You recognise it from one of the books in the museum.

“That’s the eye of Horus, right?” You ask.

“The royal symbol of protection in the afterlife.” Steven agrees.

“I mean, the resources needed to build this thing!” Layla realises, “Her final avatar was a pharaoh.”

“Woah!” Steven breathes “A bloody pharaoh!”

“You think it’s a map?” You ask.

“Yeah well… the eye of Horus is also the eye of mind yeah? Representing the six senses, six points. So you got the eyebrow that denotes thoughts. Pupil, sight, obviously. This point here is hearing. Smell. Touch. And this long line ending in a spiral is the tongue.”

“The avatar would be Ammit’s voice.” Layla suggests, and Steven nods.

“That’s right.”

You follow them further into the tomb, to a dark room with a sort of stone table in the middle. Layla shines her torch around the walls, revealing ancient drawings on them.

“Heka priests! Judging by their masks and ceremonial stance. They would have been entombed in here to protect the pharaoh. Sorcerers of their time. They’ve been down here for centuries.” She moves her torch to shine on mummified figures in the wall. “These must be some of the unlucky souls who crossed their path.”

You shine your torch at the stone table.

“Oh my God.” Steven gags. “Oh God, is that fresh blood? Little chunks of meaty bits?”

Layla crouches down to examine blood covered jars and tools before saying “Let’s keep moving.”

You start walking towards the exit but when Steven puts his arm out to stop you, you notice the blood trail leading to a pile of bones.

“Just a minute.” Steven says, any excitement he previously had now replaced by fear. “Im just stating what I see, and I see lots of bones and blood going that way. So I’m just thinking like, what if there’s another…” he shines his torch around the room, stopping and pointing up. “There’s an opening up there. You see that? Should we check it out?”

“Alright, you go.” Layla says and Steven starts climbing up to the platform. “Go with him? So he doesn’t fall again.” She asks you with a smirk and you nod. The floorboards creak as you pull yourself up, following Steven.

“So according to ancient text, Ammit should be bound to an ushabti, those statue thingies.” He says as you look around. Steven starts rambling again about all the amazing ancient things he’s seeing, but Layla reminds him he’s supposed to be looking for an exit. “Oh yeah, yeah we can go this way.”

The sound of guns firing makes you all jump.

“Harrow.” You whisper.

“What are they shooting at?” Steven asks.

“I don't know.” Layla starts, but stops when she hears a clicking sound.

“Hide, hide!” Steven frantically whispers as he helps you find somewhere to shelter. You peer over the side and see Layla duck down behind the stone table as a figure enters the room, dragging a body behind it. The thing lifts the body up onto the table and you realise it’s one of Harrow’s people, the male police officer. He’s half awake and groaning as the thing that dragged him in reaches over and picks up one of the sharp tools from the side. It lifts it in the air and plunges it down into the mans body with a squelch. You cover your mouth and look away, over at Steven who looks just as horrified. You look down at Layla, who is still crouched hiding by the table. Right by the jars that the creature has started putting the man’s organs into. She slowly starts to move around to the other side, away from them but she knocks into a jar, alerting the creature to her presence. Steven leans forward, closer to the edge to get a better look but the floorboard creaks under him. He freezes as the thing jumps up onto the table and then up to cling to the underside of the platform you are on. Steven starts to full panic as you look around for a way out, just as Layla launches a jar at the wall. It smashes, grabbing the creatures attention.

“Run! I’ll find you!” Steven yells down to Layla, who makes an escape out the room. “Help me.” He calls over to you and you help him push a table off the platform. It lands on the creature. “We squished it. We squished it!” He gasps, turning and hugging you in relief.

“Yeah we squished it, what exactly was it?” You say breathlessly.

“Heka priest. We should go before any more of them turn up.”

“There’s more of them?!”

Steven grabs your hand and pulls you through the exit. He leads you through more corridors, occasionally stopping to admire a sculpture or ancient drawing. Eventually you find yourselves in a large, magnificent room.

“Oh my days!” Steven gasps. “First ones here. Tomb fit for a pharoah. Its gotta be one of the bigguns.”

You just smile at him as he continues rambling in amazement at everything in the room. You have to admit, it is pretty impressive. But Steven is the real expert on all this stuff. You cross the stepping stones through the water to the middle of the room where the sarcophagus lies.

“Oh wow, look at that! Look at all these relics. Macedonian? No, what?” He crouches down to look at the inscriptions on the side of the sarcophagus. “No way. That can’t be right.”

“What is it?”

“That's Macedonian. But the only pharaoh…but he insisted on calling him self Egyptian.”

“Steven you're not making any sense. What are you saying?”

“I think were looking at the long lost tomb of Alexander the Great.”

“You're kidding?” You ask and he looks at you in amazement. You don't know why but you both start laughing. “Let's get it open.”

You both place your hands on the top, getting ready to push. Steven takes a few breaths then stops.

“Everything inside me is screaming not to open this thing.” He says.

“I know, but Harrow-”

“Alright, alright, alright.” He places his hands back on the top and takes a deep breath. You count to three then push with all your strength. The lid slides open to reveal a mummified corpse lying inside. Even though thats exactly what you expected to see, it still startled you that that is an actual dead person. The actual Alexander the Great.

“Right so, what are we looking for?” you ask.

“If you're gonna hide it for all eternity, you’d probably put it in a place where the average looter wouldn’t think to look.” He thinks. “Alexander was the voice of Ammit...”

You both look at the head, completely wrapped in cloth.

“You don't think…” you start, really hoping Steven isn’t about to suggest what you think he’s going to suggest. You really don't want to see what the body looks like underneath that cloth.

“I'm gonna try something.” He starts to remove the cloth from the head. “Sorry. Oh God, so sorry. Sorry Mr Great.”

The fabric rips revealing the Alexander’s skull, which Steven apologises to again before prying open its mouth and reaching inside. He searches deep inside the skull, gagging a few times before slowly pulling out the a small statue that looks like Ammit.

“Is that it? You got it?” You ask, hope rising that Harrow might not succeed.

“Yeah, yeah we got it.” Steven says with a smile. You smile back before you pull each other in for a hug. You pull apart when you hear footsteps and look to see Layla enter. “Layla look. We won!” He holds the ushabti in the air, a hug grin on his face. But Layla doesn’t smile. She looks likes she’s been crying.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Can he hear me?” She asks Steven, ignoring you completely. Now that she’s closer you can see she looks angry.

“Alexander? I don't think so.” Steven chuckles. “God, I hope not.”

“What happened to my father?” She says, getting closer to him. He looks baffled. “I’m talking to you... I’m talking to Marc!” She shoves him and he pauses, his eyes rolling back.

“Come on.” He says, his deep American voice is serious and he tries to pull Layla with him. “We need to go right now.”

“No!” Layla shakes him off. “What happened to my father?”

“Listen to me. We have to leave right now. I will explain everything, I swear. But we have to go!”

“Did you kill Abdullah El Faouly?” Layla asks and Marc pauses. A tense silence fills the air.

“I’m just gonna- I’ll give you a minute.” You say awkwardly as you back away towards the entrance Layla came in through.

“Stay close!” Marc calls to you and you nod before stepping just outside into the corridor. You can still hear their raised voices but at least you don't feel like a spectator to their private conversation now.

As you stand in the dark corridor, trying not to listen to the argument happening just a few feet away, you're suddenly aware that you're not alone. You spin around to see Harrow stood looking at you. He doesn’t look shocked to see you, but he does look disappointed. Like a parent that has just caught their child doing something wrong. You freeze, like a deer caught in headlights as his disciples start charging past you into the tomb, leaving you and Harrow alone. He doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“As disappointed as I am that you disobeyed my order, I am glad you are here to see me take my victory.”

He starts to move towards you and you bolt, trying to run past him to warn Layla and Marc. But he catches you, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into the room himself. You’re surprised to find Marc left stood on his own, holding an axe, ready to fight. He falters slightly when he realises Harrow has hold of you. Harrow looks at Marc and smiles, before handing you over to Bobbi.

“Just you. The rest is silence.” He says as he takes a few slow steps towards Marc. “I remember the first morning I woke up knowing that Khonshu was gone. The quiet was liberating. You're a free man.” He walks closer to Marc. “And of course with that freedom comes choice. And right now you have a very important decision to make.”

“Okay.” Marc responds.

“No Marc, don’t!” You shout, causing Bobbi to tighten her grip on you and put her hand over your mouth.

Harrow glances at the disciples to the side of him, who start advancing on Marc, guns aimed at him. Marc just stands completely still until they get close enough then he starts his attack, easily taking out three of them. Harrow steps forward, raising a gun that you didn’t even see him holding and points it at Marc.

Before you have a chance to even try to fight, Harrow pulls the trigger. A bullet hits Marc straight in the chest. He stumbles backwards, pain on his face as his white shirt starts to stain red. You scream in Bobbi’s grasp and Harrow locks eyes with you for a moment before turning back and firing a second, fatal bullet at Marc. It hits, sending him falling backwards into the water.

“I can’t save anyone who won’t save themselves.” Harrow says as he watches Marc’s life’s body float in the water.

You manage to swing your arm around to hit Bobbi in the stomach, causing her to release her grip on you and you rush forward, past Harrow and straight into the water, pulling Marc's body up to cradle him.

“Steven?” You cry, not caring that the mix of water and bloody is soaking into your clothes. “Steven please. Wake up, please.”

Harrow comes up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder but you instantly push him away.

“Get off me!” You shout, Harrow looks completely unfazed. “Stay away from me! You're a murderer!”

“We must move on.” he holds his hand out to you.

“No! I’m not leaving him.” You argue. “I would rather die than go anywhere with you!”

For the briefest moment you think Harrow almost looks hurt by your statement. But then his face changes again.

“I can see you’re upset, you're not in your right mind.”

“Oh my mind is perfectly right.” You say as you stand up, face to face with Harrow. “I never want to see you again.” You say through gritted teeth before turning your back on him and returning to Marc’s side.

“This is your last chance Y/N.” He warns, and you ignore him. “Very well.”

Suddenly two pairs of hands grasp yours arm, yanking you up to your feet as two disciples drag you away kicking and screaming out of the water and hold you as Harrow and two disciples go to Steven’s body.

“Don't you dare touch him!” Your shout falling on deaf ears as the disciples drag Steven out of the water. Harrow crouches down beside him as the disciple hands him Ammit’s ushabti. He smiles before looking at Steven.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Marc Spector, Steven Grant…” he pauses as he places the scarab beetle on Steven’s chest “whoever else might be in there.” He uses his cane to help him stand back up and turns to face the crowd of disciples, but his focus is on you. “Sometimes we need the cold light of death before we can see reality.”

You struggle against the hands that have you restrained but they just hold you tighter, forcing you down to your knees to bow as Arthur holds the ushabti high for everyone to see.

You hear the sound of footsteps as someone runs into the room. For a moment you feel hope as you think it could be Layla with a plan to stop him, but when you see Maya run up to Harrow the hope quickly dies.

“Harrow, sir, I am so so sorry.” She rambles breathlessly. “I was trying to find you, to warn you, but I got lost in these tunnels.” She pauses, looking at him with sad eyes. “I’ve failed you.”

“Yes, you have.” He says, completely emotionless as he turns his attention away from her. From the look on her face you can tell her heart has just broken. She backs away from him and stands alone near the wall.

“Who wants to heal the world?”

The disciples around you get up and start making their way back out of the tomb. Harrow starts walking over towards you but suddenly stops when he hears Maya following.

“Not you.” He says, not even turning to face her.

“S-sir..?” She says, confusion on her face.

“This is the end for you.” He reaches into his pocket and before Maya has a chance to register whats happening he turns and shoots her in the chest with the same gun he killed Steven with. You gasp and try to get to her slump as she slumps painfully to the ground, but the disciples holding you keep you firmly in place, still kneeling on the floor.

“Why- why did you do that?!” A sob escaping your throat as Harrow comes to stand by you. “She was just a young girl!!”

“She let him get to you. She put you in danger… I can’t have that.”

“The only reason I’m in danger is because of you!” You say shakily and Harrow looks down at you. He doesn’t say anything, he just reaches his hand down to wipe the tears from under your eyes. Then he walks past you, gesturing for the disciples to follow. As they harshly pull you up to your feet, you can’t take your eyes off of Maya’s lifeless body. Her glossy eyes staring at you as they drag you away, leaving her forever resting in the tomb of Alexander the Great.

Part Six

Taglist : @sleepylunarwolf / @ahookedheroespureheart / @sleepyamaya / @spicydonut25 / @kult6 / @uncle-eggy / @malaanii/ @toracainz / @pinkiestwinkie / @galacticstxrdust / @mateihavenoidea / @xmariakx / @oscarissac2099 / @whycantwebefriendz / @parkeepingparker

(If you want to be added/removed on the tag list please let me know, but note that I can’t reply to comments from this blog)

#moon knight #marvel fanfic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #arthur harrow x reader #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly #arthur harrow #Steven grant #Marc spector #Oscar isaac #Oscar Isaac x reader #Ethan hawke #Ethan Hawke x reader

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dark-and-kinky-hetalia-scenarios · 6 months

Note

Yandere Pirate England/ British Empire England with a cute little captive nsfw. (I don't know why, but I imagine his little captive is a nation like him)

That is definitely a fun idea, I'll try to stay clear of the politics involved with him capturing a country and just focus on the sexy time stuff, with a little introduction to it because the devil is in the details

1p England/Arthur Kirkland

So I personally think England is at his most yandereish self as an empire, because he wants to own his beloved, he sees them as his belonging

He's technically an empire and a pirate at the same time, because no one can do shit about it and he wants to have fun

Anyways if you manage to capture his attention you're basically fucked because he has so much international control

If you're one of his colonies you don't really have much choice but we're going with you being a none controlled country

(I'll make up a country for use at some point, that will be personified by what you guys want)

You'll be brought onto his pirate ship, and chained to his massive bed, and left there to stew for a while, because he's a sadist and a power hungry asshole, he wants to show you he's in control

England does think he's entitled to you, which makes it very hard to reason with him. Because why should he let his treasure go?

If you resist too much the first time you're going to be chained to the bed with iron chains, because resistance is useless. If you accept it he will use silk to tie you up, because he wants to show you how well you're treated when you submit

There will be a lot of teasing, if he can he wants to make you cry from sexual frustration

You being small and cute only makes you a bigger target because it makes him feel powerful and taller

He'll find your most sensitive spots and stroke them painfully slowly.

He'll circle his fingers in light brushes around your most private areas, never touching completely, but just enough to make arousal shoot through your body like fireworks

His possessive bites will make your stomach curl into a ball and when the sweet relief of your stomach no longer doing acrobatics comes, he will find yet another soft spot to bite

He will drag out the teasing for as long as it takes to make you beg for him and cry in frustration

And when you finally beg he won't even give you what you want, no he wants more, he wants you to swear your mind, body and soul to him, he'll offer to ease the frustration if you swear yourself to him

When you've done that only then will he take you, and he will make sure it's the best fuck you've ever had, or at least he likes to think that

You're going to be treated kind of like a consort/concubine, when you start behaving, which is good but he also expects you to do whatever he asks of you, regardless of what it is.

If you are a good little treasure he might actually stick to just fucking you,

You will get more power the closer you get to him, so pleasing him in the bed is the best way to actually gain influence

Beware tho that you will not be able to leave him for many centuries, because he stays in power for so fucking long, so just acting like you're his perfect little plaything will ensure your survival and good treatment from him

But if you do leave him at his weakest he will be super fucking mad and it will change him for the worse, because he might have tricked himself into thinking you like him. Which of course is a delusion, but shit is going to hit the fan, he will do anything he can to hurt those closest to you or anything that matters to you. He'll be so filled with wrath that he will do anything to make you feel what he feels, which also involves going back to his habit of sleeping around a lot

You will never be truly free, he will torment you forever until you give up or die, either way your most peaceful option is to accept your fate, if you stay with him and act like a submissive and sweet wife, then you will have an easy life, he's very rarely prone to violence towards a significant other and with time he calms down a little and becomes less sadistic, ish.

If things go well he might actually want to marry you and treat you almost like an equal, letting you make decisions that affect you both, etc

----------

Anyway this got longer than expected with a lot of politics and not as much nsfw stuff I'd planned but hope you like it regardless!

#hetalia #hetalia headcanons #lemon #aph hetalia #1p England #aph england #arthur kirkland #Hetalia lemon #hetalia smut #pirate england #hetalia england

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arminsumi · 11 months

Text

Cheap Wine

Oneshot | MDNI | Armin | ♪

You've been assigned to assassinate Armin Arlert.

And coincidentally, he's been assigned to assassinate you.

⚠️Cws; sexual content, ur both assassins, mentions murder, guns, violence

Genres; comedy

Notes; gn!reader, modern au

There is a red dial-up phone next to you. It rings, and you pluck it up and put it to your ear, like you've been waiting all day for this call.

"Who?" You ask.

"Number fourteen."

You set your coffee down and pull out your special little book. Your eyes run down the numbers until they stop at;

14. Armin Arlert

You furrow your brows at the attached polaroid of the man. He seems familiar.

"Alright." You confirm, and hang up the phone.

You drain the rest of your black coffee down your throat and head out into to get some midnight necessities from the convenience store.

It's been weeks since Armin was assigned to assassinate you now; he's already tracked down your apartment and observed your day-to-day life from the comforts of his Cadillac.

When you go out into the street, Armin cranes his neck over the newspaper, and folds it away lazily.

"Alright, time to work." He thinks to himself.

He loads up his revolver – he's pretty old-fashioned, like you, you'd really get along with him actually – and stows it in the back of his jeans.

When you emerge from the convenience store, swishing around a plastic bag and gripping the neck of a cheap wine bottle, Armin follows you into the alleyway very smoothly.

He lets out a sigh, draws his gun to the back of your head.

The moment building up to him squeezing the trigger is very intense, but guess what?

His gun is jammed.

You look behind you very nonchalantly, blinking curiously at the blond behind you; he's got blue jeans and a leather jacket. He looks familiar, doesn't he?

"Sorry, I think it's jammed. One second." He sighs, struggling with his gun.

"Armin?" You squint at him in the pale light.

There is a electrical buzzing noise somewhere, and the roar of city life coming from the street not far away.

"Yep. That's me." He furrows his brows at his gun.

You don't know if you should laugh or run or draw your own gun.

"You're pretty young to be in this business." You comment, casually drawing your gun.

He nods, "Yeah, so are you." then he looks up and sees the gun pointed at him, "Ah, damn. Now why didn't I think of that? Would sure be convenient to have one of those." He clicks his tongue sarcastically.

This shouldn't be funny. Are the both of you mad?

You let out a great sigh. "I got assigned you just today. How long have you had to prepare for this?"

"A few weeks."

"And the cause of failure in your plan was... a jammed gun? I love that." You smile, lowering your gun. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Armin, I'm not really interested in killing you."

"Oh, excellent, I'm glad." He replies in his soft British accent.

A moment of tense silence passes. Armin lunges to try and restrain you and make up for his jammed gun. Your own is knocked to the ground.

You struggle against him and grunt, rolling around on the cold, cracked cement alley floor.

The both of you get a bit bloodied and bruised, I mean, it is a fistfight, that's generally what happens.

He pulls out a switchblade and you consider it game over. But he hesitates and looks at you for a long while.

He's on top of you, staring right down into your soul, blood dripping off his chin. You're both panting, your breaths visible in the night air.

There's the sounds of busses sighing as they break at stoplights, and incessant hooting like it's New York City.

"I will admit," You huff, "The idea of being murdered in a dark alleyway is a bit cheesy."

"You're right. Sorry. I should reschedule and replan this."

"I think so." You agree.

You invited him back home for some wine.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"For almost murdering you."

"It's okay, it happens."

He laughs.

A moment of silence passes. He presses his lips to the wine glass. He hesitates, eyes the rim suspiciously, then pulls the glass away, and sets it down again.

The both of you share an awfully comedic stare.

"Poison isn't really my thing." You try to reassure him, but then you realize how bizarre anything you say sounds right now.

"Yeah, I never really got into poisoning, either." He leans back on the sofa.

The two of you share another moment of silence.

"I've been wanting to retire for some time." You explain seriously.

"I can't imagine why, it's really the dream job." Armin chuckled.

He's drinking up your beauty, and you're drinking up his accent.

The two of you end up having a good conversation. You and him emptied the bottle of cheap wine together.

"I'm surprised." You say after some time.

"Hm?"

"We have a lot in common. And, sorry if this is straightforward, but we have great chemistry." You say.

Armin looks at you, his mind digesting what you said. His eyes are an entrancing blue.

You think to yourself; he's more good-looking in real life than in pictures. And he's thinking the same.

Your red bra and lacey panties were strewn across your apartment floor, along with his jeans and leather jacket.

The two of you pant after coming down from your high.

It seemed that the two of you had a little more than just great chemistry going on between each other.

"Right then," Armin breaks the silence. No lights are on. He raises himself and sits on the edge of your bed, bare body looking like a Greek sculpture in the pale moonlight. "See you next time we try kill each other again."

"Mhm." You hum. "Hope your gun doesn't jam next time."

"Thanks, I hope you choose a more expensive wine next time."

You look at him from your bed. He's already hopping into his jeans. He's facing his toned back to you. Just a few moments ago, that physique was rocking against yours, sweating and panting and moaning.

"See you, Armin."

#mdni #🐬Ocean Prince #armin #armin arlert #aot #snk #armin x reader #armin x y/n #gn!y/n #gn!reader #gender neutral y/n #smut #armin smut #oneshot

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