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audisive · 3 months

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♪ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY. sad girl alternative

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: you've had a bad day, simon's there to fix it.

tags: comfort, crying, self-indulgent, fluff

Your head laid on the skin of his arm, your face pushed into the comfort of his chest. The sharp edges of your earrings – your favorite ones, he recalls – sank and dug into his skin meanly, but he couldn't care less. As disgusting as it sounds, it could not compare to the way his heart ached to protect your own when he hears you take sharp inhales just to exhale with a sob, sniffles occasionally there to accompany your weeping. It was anything but his priority with the way his arms tightened around you and the way he'd hoped it would be enough to ease your worries and take your pain away; pass it onto him if you must. Anything to make you feel better.

Oh, the things he'd be willing to but could not do to instead receive a painfully unfunny joke from you in the place of your sobs. He settles on wiping the tears off your face, knowing how it makes you feel when it dries and sticks to your skin uncomfortably. The small droplets were everywhere and increased with every passing minute, but he took the time to wipe them off one by one. Had you not been in agony, you would've been in awe at the way this gigantically scary man was being so gentle with you; it was one of the best reminders of how his heart belonged to you and how well he'd taken care of your own.

Simon holds you forever – at least that's what it feels like – and whispers sweet nothings into your ear to distract you, even just for a little bit. "'S fine," he reassures you, each word filled with promise and not an ounce of doubt. "You'll be okay, y'hear me? I got you." It's warm, and he still faintly smells of gun powder, mixed with the well-used cologne you'd bought him for his birthday last year. You don't pay any mind to the smell of tobacco lingering; you know it's not his.

You've long since learned – all thanks to him – to refrain from apologizing for your show of vulnerability and emotions. It leaves you guilty, still, eating you up at night with the knowledge of his uneasiness when it comes to emotions, but for him, nothing's better than learning to get over his fears with his one and only love. Love always makes us do things we don't want to, right?

His arms found the way to wrap themselves around you heavily like a weighted blanket hours ago and have continued to stay. It serves as a comfort for you, along with his words. In his sweater, his arms, his bed, his room. He's all you can see and all you can feel, but you're not complaining, and neither is he.

You calm down after a moment, letting your breathing grow steady while the wet spots of tears in his sweater dried up. Simon Riley hates to see you cry, but damn it if he can't be the one to comfort you.

"There's m' pretty girl," he whispers in that charmingly rough yet gentle voice of his, looking down at the way your lashes glisten with salty little tears when you find the strength to press your cheek to his chest instead of burying your face in the warm surface. "Feelin' better now, sweets?" He's so terribly sweet to and with you that you think you might cry again just because. You barely even nod, but you know he notices; he always does.

"Y'wanna talk about it?" His hand plants itself onto your back; it gives you a sense of stability. Everything about him is so large in a way that engulfs you whole, and it would terrify any sane person. Perhaps you aren't, not anymore, but you found the warmth and comfort of your home in him. He kisses your forehead without so much as a pause when you shake your head. "A'right, we'll jus' stay here, then."

And stay, you do, cuddled up against him. It doesn't take long before all the crying takes its toll on you, your head starts to hurt, and your eyelids start to give up. Before you know it, you're pulled into the deep depths of unconsciousness. It's too early into the night; you've skipped two meals, and you've worked yourself near death. You know full well that you'll wake up with a raging headache after crying yourself to sleep, too. You'll wake up too early in the morning; your muscles will be sore, and you're still starving. You might as well pass out immediately after waking up.

Still, you sleep at ease and without worry. Why would you not? Simon will be there to fix it. ♡

divider by @cafekitsune !

#౨ৎ simon !#୨୧ audi's works !#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #comfort #cod x reader #fluff #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #it's been a bad week #and the week's barely started

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the-californicationist · 4 months

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he trims his beard

Pirate!Price/Reader

God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...

MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference

Summary:

Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.

The Mediterranean Sea, 1708

“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident.

You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.

You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on.

The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner.

He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin,

“C’mere, girl.”

You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.

“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand.

He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,

“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”

He handed you the razor and you took it from him,

“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”

You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation.

As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,

“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”

His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare.

“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”

He smiled,

“Alright, love.”

He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight.

At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him.

You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,

“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.”

“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion.

He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple.

“Is that so?” The captain purred.

“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”

“Ah, I see.”

He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.

“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”

“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”

He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,

“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”

You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,

“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”

“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”

“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed.

“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”

You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints.

“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”

“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”

“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly.

It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again.

“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”

He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.

“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”

“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”

“Never. You have my word.”

Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you.

“I accept.”

“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”

“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”

“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air.

You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core.

“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there.

“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again.

He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face.

“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”

It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth.

“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”

You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.

“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.

“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.

“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”

He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,

“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”

“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”

He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches.

“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core.

“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”

You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him.

“What do you ask of me, my love?”

“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #john price #cod #captain price x you #pirate price

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vivwritescrappythings · 3 months

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Just Love Me and Eat

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

You watched Eddie die, so this must be some nightmare in your room.

tw: blood, biting, i think its gender neutral?

also just really loved Bones and All and the concept of cannibalism/vampirism as love so made this lil guy

Word Count: 2k

Part two

masterlist

—

Your room was dark, the curtains pulled shut and the lights off. It had been a month since Eddie died and you didn’t have the energy to pantomime life without him. You had no sense of what time it was, every day simply becoming another day where he was gone and you were left unmoored. If it wasn’t for the sound of birds chirping and kids playing outside, you wouldn’t have guessed time was passing at all.

You didn’t sleep, you hardly ate. Nancy and Robin brought you food like offerings, using their keys to enter your apartment and leaving simple meals outside your bedroom door with soft knocks on the wood. Their little tupperwares were probably the only things keeping you alive–you knew Eddie would be upset if you wasted food on his account.

The Hellfire shirt Wayne had given you was soft and well-worn, but it hardly smelled like Eddie anymore. The familiar scent of tobacco and leather and the incense that he used to try to cover the stink of weed was fading, soon you wouldn’t be able to detect it at all under the sharp tang of your sweat.

Curled up in your comforter, you kept thinking about how it should’ve been you instead. Eddie would have known how to keep living, he would’ve been able to move on. You? You were just surviving.

Sleep threatened the edges of your vision, you’d been staring at the fuzzy polaroid photo you had propped on your nightstand. It was of you and Eddie at some party, he was smiling broadly at the camera with you tugged neatly to his side. Both of you held solo cups, your head rested on his shoulder like it was meant to be there.

It was your last good memory of him, before Chrissy Cunningham died and everything you ever knew fell to pieces.

—

Your dreamless sleep was interrupted by something tapping at your window. At first you thought—prayed—you were hallucinating it. Maybe it was just a lack of sleep accumulating to finally make you hear things. But it insisted, the knocking at your second-floor window was incessant enough that it managed to pull you from your bed.

The quilt came with you as you carefully crossed the room to your window, trepidation making you bite your lip before you finally pulled back the curtain. It was a quick motion, ripping off the band-aid with the expectation of seeing a woodpecker or a squirrel or something normal on the other side.

What you didn’t expect to see was your dead boyfriend in the moonlight.

You nearly screamed, your eyes widening into dinner plates as you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. It must’ve been a dream, or a nightmare. In your effort to get away from the window you tripped over discarded shoes on the floor and fell back onto your butt. Panicked, delirious tears roll down your cheeks as you start to roughly pinch the skin on your exposed thigh.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” you mumbled to yourself as you hyperventilated through the tears. It couldn’t be Eddie, Eddie was dead. He was in The Upside Down. You were never getting him back.

It was too late when you realized your window was unlocked, not-Eddie placing a palm flat against the glass to push it up. It was slow, you were too stunned to get up and try to close it. You were just outright sobbing on the floor of your bedroom, angry welts across your leg from where you’d been pinching at it almost hard enough to draw blood.

This Eddie looked different… he looked off. His eyes weren’t brown anymore: they were too bright, almost looking like a cat’s eyes in a photograph. Your window was fully open now, not-Eddie pitching himself through with a grace you’d never seen before.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he asked, his voice sounding the same as it used to. Your heart twisted, breaking into a million pieces—you’d dreamt of Eddie before, but never like this. His clothes were ripped and dirty, his battle vest in shreds along with the shirt beneath it. You could see the gnarled, twisting scars on his arms and his neck and parts of his torso through the shirt—everything the demobats had done to him.

He took in the state of your bedroom, appraising it with the careful eye of someone who had been there many times before. You kept crying into your hand, not able to catch your breath. Your head was spinning, part of you wanting to wake up from the dream as the rest wanted to stay asleep—you wanted to soak up time with any shred of Eddie you could have.

Not-Eddie took a few careful steps toward you, his not-so-white Reeboks softly hitting the ground as he crouched in front of you. He had his Hellfire shirt on under his shredded battle vest and leather jacket, blood and dirt and foggy black stains clinging to the fabric. The one Wayne had given you was an extra, something found in the back of Eddie’s closet.

“You… you’re dead,” you finally croaked, your voice cracking and raspy from disuse. The breath you took rattled in your lungs, the scent of earth and blood and something vaguely like tobacco filling your nose. “I watched you… the bats…”

It was rushing all back to you, the way you screamed when all the bats fell around Eddie. You and Dustin ran to him, watching him die in your arms. Steve carried you out of the Upside Down kicking and screaming.

Not-Eddie tutted at you, his yellow eyes roving over your form. They paused at your neck, at the hem of the Hellfire shirt against your thighs. Something inside you kept telling you to get off the floor and run, but you remained rooted to the spot.

“You really think some silly little bats could keep me away from you?” Not-Eddie asked, his head tilting. “Nothing could keep me from you. Nothing.”

His hands were freezing when they wrapped under your knees to drag you closer. Fat tears rolled down your face, stinging at your eyes and hot against your cheeks.

“This can’t be happening.”

Not-Eddie chuckled, his smile revealing perfectly white teeth. His canines and outermost incisors in the top row of his teeth were elongated, looking like fangs more than anything else. Your mind stuttered, frantically trying to keep up.

His hands were still on the backs of your knees, his gaudy costume rings cold against your skin. His calloused fingers pressed at the popliteal veins at the backs of your legs. If anything he seemed to be preoccupied with rolling them under his fingertips, tracing along them.

“Guess they weren’t normal bats, baby,” he muttered, rolling from crouching on his feet to kneeling between your legs.

Your breath hitched as he bent over you, one dirt-crusted hand pressing against the floorboards near your head. His long curls fell down around you, curtaining your dark bedroom from your view as your breaths became shallow. He was so close to your Eddie that you almost found yourself convinced.

He leaned down, nosing at your neck. Hot breaths huffed at the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he growled in a low voice, a large hand pressing to your sternum to pin you to the floor. He was so strong, it was like he had placed a weight on your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” you whined, your voice pathetic and soft. You stared up at the ceiling, your hands loosely tugging at his leather jacket. “I shouldn’t have let Harrington drag me away, should’ve stayed.”

He shushed me, pressing his nose to my skin and inhaling deeply. “S’okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me,” he mumbled, his voice seeming only partially present in the conversation. Not-Eddie’s lips pressed to your throat.

“Your heart is beating so fast… smells so good,” he groaned, licking up the side of your throat for a moment. “I’m starving, baby. You gonna help me?”

His voice was dripping with soft affection, like someone talking to a skittish wild animal. “Eddie…” you whined, your instincts screaming that something was wrong.

“Shh shh,” he mumbled, placing open mouthed kisses over your pulse point. His voice was broken, a desperation in it that you understood and recognized. “It’s okay... I just gotta eat, I’m so hungry. Haven’t eaten anything… wanted to see you first.”

Your head was spinning, the realization that this is your Eddie snapping into place like a sudden, infallible truth. Your heart was still pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. For the first time you felt like prey as Eddie kept you cornered against the floor. But he was still gentle, not taking what he easily could have.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears clouding your eyes. He was different, more monster than man, but this was Eddie. Your Eddie.

“Love you so much,” he said, his teeth scraping against your delicate skin. The words sounded like a prayer, like they’d been ripped from his chest. He seemed stuck, his muscles clenching as he traced his tongue and teeth along the thick vein in your throat. “Missed you.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Eat, Eddie. S’okay,” you mumbled despite your instincts screaming at you to get him off of you.

“I know you’re hungry, let me help.” You tilted your head, pressing your throat to his teeth. A lamb to the slaughter. He stiffened at the action, fighting to keep himself under control. “Don’t want you to be hungry. Not anymore.”

The sound he made was like he got punched in the stomach. Eddie groaned, his fingers pressing into the floorboard hard enough to make the wood split. Your brow pinched, concern running through you. He still hadn’t taken action, not yet.

Your fingers threaded into the soft curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck, pulling his head closer. “You won’t hurt me, Eds. Just love me and eat.”

He grunted, the ghost of a nod coming from him as his nose bumped your neck. The pain of Eddie’s teeth sinking into your neck made you whimper. His hand moved from your sternum to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. The sting faded to warmth, Eddie’s lips pressed firmly against your throat as he suckled at you.

After a while you could hardly keep your hand in his hair, so dizzy and tired that the back of your knuckles smacked against the floor. You felt like you were melting into it, vision doubling as your eyes crossed. Your breaths were shallow and slow. It was hard to think, your mind not able to even tell what time it was or how long it had been.

But your exhaustion was enough, Eddie pulled away. He lapped at the remaining blood on your skin for a moment before sitting back completely. You looked up at him with dizzy eyes, vaguely categorizing the way blood was smeared across his full lips and down his chin.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, gathering your loose limbs from where you’d sprawled on the floor. He seemed more himself now, his actions considerate and his voice back to its normal cadence. He lifted you in a smooth motion, carrying you to bed with a tenderness you remembered from him. He was so much stronger now.

After situating you on the covers, he removed his jacket and toed off his shoes. His body settled behind yours, making the mattress dip as he pulled your spine to his chest. You were fighting with every blink, trying to keep your eyes open for as long as possible. If this was a dream you didn’t want Eddie to disappear.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I swear,” he said into your hair, his large hands smoothing along your waist and your bicep. The reassurance was enough for you to drift off, the blood loss pulling you toward unconsciousness. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #kas!eddie #vampire #bones and all movie #gn!reader

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allyeardepression · 1 month

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@jegulus-microfic | march 6 scent | words: 240

tw: swearing

He was running late. He was never ever late, but apparently there must be a first time for everything. On his way to the dungeons Regulus tried to button up the shirt he was wearing, fix his tie and make his hair at least a little less messy. Fucking James and his stupid fucking hands.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I ran into professor McGonagall. She wanted to discuss…” he paused, thinking of good enough reason to be stopped by Transfiguration professor “… my brother’s problems” yes, that was good.

“Hello, Mr. Black. It’s alright, take your seat. As I was saying” Slughorn continued his rant about today's lesson when the familiar scent of tobacco and vanilla filled his nostrils.

Regulus sat between Barty and Evan, sniffing like a dog. His friends looked at him like he ran from Janus Thickey Ward.

“Were seveth-years here before us? It fucking smells like Potter just went out of here” Regulus murmured to the two boys at his table. Barty just snorted in response, and Evan looked like someone had stolen his coffee. “What?” the black-haired boy asked confused.

“Evan owns me so much money” Barty chuckled quietly.

“Fuck off, I was certain it was Lupin” the other boy grumbled exasperated. Regulus looked between them, a bit agitated.

“What the fuck are you two on about?” he hissed at them.

Barty giggled funnily and pointed at the board.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

They were brewing Amortentia.

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #amortentia

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ink-n-shadowfiction · 8 months

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Gone Bad | Simon "Ghost" Riley

pairing: mafia!Simon "Ghost" Riley x police officer's daughter!reader

word count: 770

warning: alternative universe, mentions of police, tw! for creepy guy, allusion to dark!ghost (only if you squint)

note: new au, new ideas (don't hesitate to send me requests <;3)

⤷ ever since you were a little kid, your dad was a member of the police force in manchester. you were a daddy’s girl through and through. hell, you wanted to be just like him when you were little—catching bad guys and keeping people safe.

⤷ but something shifted when you were a teenager—and suddenly, the daddy’s good little girl was gone. you were sneaking out, partying with friends, skipping school to go smoke cigarettes underneath the crumbling cobblestone bridge by your secondary school.

⤷ it only got worse once you graduated and enrolled in university. this time, though, you weren’t under your father’s thumb anymore. you were in your flat, with your own roommates, doing whatever you wanted to do. that’s how you found yourself in some dingy new pub that opened up in the city.

⤷ you had dipped outside of the pub for a quick cigarette, stepping into a dimly lit alleyway and leaning against the cobbled wall to puff away at the tobacco stick. it was almost peaceful—that was until a group of drunken men stumbled by and one of them took a liking to you.

⤷ “aye, pretty thing. y’look lonely standing there all by yourself. mind if i join you? take a little puff of that cig?”

⤷ you tried to come up with some sort of excuse, eyes frantically searching for a way out—but the alleyway you were in was a dead end. the lit cigarette fell from your trembling hand, rolling across the wet asphalt. you thought you were goner until you heard an exit door from the pub behind you screech open, a hard voice rumbling like a thunder storm.

⤷ “what the fuck’s goin’ on out here? you botherin’ this girl, eh? at my fuckin’ pub? get the fuck out of here before i bury you underneath the concrete you're standin' on.”

⤷ you caught your breath as the man harassing you scrambled off quickly, turning your head to see who the gravelly voice belonged to. he was a looming figure, dressed in a steam-pressed three piece suit and tie along with shiny leather oxfords. his fingers were covered in tattoos and rings, his neck adorning two thick silver chains. His face, however, was obscured by a black mask with a slick skull face attached to the front. he looked menacing. the gun holstered to his hip didn’t help.

⤷ “you didn’t have to—”

⤷ “don’t sit there and tell me you would’ve handled it. that fucker would’ve torn you to bits if i hadn’t stepped in, lovie. too prideful to say thank you?”

⤷ having lived in manchester all your life, having listened to your father’s rants about the organized crime running rampant in the streets, you knew exactly who the man in front of you that night was: ghost, the faceless leader of the organized crime syndicate which ran manchester under an iron fist. you should’ve expected him to be here—this was his pub, after all.

⤷ you couldn't speak, but that was alright. ghost didn't mind—he was used to people keeping queit about him. that's why he felt so comfortable leaning against the wall of the alleyway, balancing a cigarette between his lips and igniting the paper.

⤷ "next time you're at my pub, make sure you stay with a friend. pretty little things like you have a tendency to get snatched up right quick out here. can't guarantee i'll be here to save you next time, lovie."

⤷ but after that night, ghost seemed to always be there to save the day. your car breaks down on the side of the road during rush hour traffic? ghost's suv just so happens to pull up behind you. you get a little too drunk out at his pub one night? ghost has one of his men drive you and your friends home. you know deep down that it's way past just coincidences now—but that added to the thrill of it, to the taboo nature of it all.

⤷ other than that, ghost might as well have been a figment of your imagination. he never gave you a phone number, never told you an address, never really stuck around much after helping you out time after time. he was almost unreal until he came out from the shadows. it took almost an entire year before ghost finally asked you to get drinks with him.

⤷ "c'mon—you gotta say yes. y'know how rare it is for me to ask a girl for drinks? usually, the girls come crawlin' to me. not you, though. that's what i like about you, lovie."

#mafia!ghost ☠#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty smut #call of duty #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader

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yandere-kokeshi · 4 months

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TW: yandere, NSFW, stalking, and mention of alcohol.

So... I have this fic I've been starting to write. Please let me know how you feel about it!

Simon and you have been good work buddies. And for this years hard work, Price decided to uphold a large Christmas party in the base, ensuring everyone got their holdiday spirit up and had everyone go and buy each other meaningful gifts

Simon had gotten you as his Christmas buddy — and when has he not? It's been like that every year.

However, as the day approaches and how everyone receives gifts, Simon gives you two instead of one.

Of course, the first one is made for the party. But for the second one, it's meant to be private. He strictly told you to open it after the party, where it's just the two of you.

You jokingly took it as it was, laughing and smiling in eagerness as he laughed too at your reaction. He asked you for a drink, and you took it with a frantic nod, walking together to chug the thick alcohol down your throats.

A few hours passed, and the party started to die down. Soap is obviously drunk, wobbling around, speaking thickly of nonsense; forcing Gaz to quite literally drag him home. Laswell and Price are just about to leave, looking at you two before asking if you need anything, which Simon replies for both of you.

This leaves you and Simon left alone at the base.

He's looking at you with his feminine browne eyes, asking you to open it up. You'd never want to hurt his feelings, right?

And as you unwrap it, tearing off the wrapping paper and neatly tied bow, you abruptly stop with a beating heart — cheeks being flushed and unable to speak...

You thickly swallowed and look at him with widen eyes.

The gift was a dildo– a fucking boxed dildo in your hand. It's mixes of black and white, whilst also being huge; a suction cup added in. And funnily enough, it's skull related

He chuckles at your quiet reaction, "Nervous? Thought ya'd like a new customized one as the last one you used was becoming boring."

Your eyes flickered between him and the large object. You asked him what he meant. He chuckles before leaning into your space, his musky scent of rich vanilla, tobacco, and cardamom waving in like rivers.

"It's fun watching you fuck yourself with a toy; enjoyed seeing you use a few of my last gifts I gave you," he inhaled sharply, looking at you darkly. "—but, why not enjoy a real man, hm? Let's take this back to our room, yeah?"

A chill ran down your spine, and before you could speak nor move, his hand curled around your hips, and his mouth found itself on top of yours; his hops started bucking towards yours, making you feel his large buldge.

His mouth came down to your earlobe, promising you that you were in it for tonight.

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valeskafics · 6 months

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"Dance Of The Dragons" Chapter Two: Wish You Were Here - Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Rocker AU)

Summary: Aemond sees you perform for the first time.

TW: profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns, mentions of addiction/getting sober, alcohol consumption, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of character deaths, tobacco consumption, marijuana consumption

Word Count: 3,300 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST HERE 💕

Songs Used In This Chapter: "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett (here by The Doom Of Old Valyria), "Barracuda" by Heart (here written by Baela), "The Edge of Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks (here written by Helaena), "Wish You Were Here" by Avril Lavigne (here by The Doom Of Old Valyria), "Cherry Bomb" by The Runaways (here written by Rhaena), "I Don't Wanna Be In Love" by Good Charlotte (here by The Direwolves), "Voodoo Doll" by 5 Seconds of Summer (here being written by Aemond), "Perfect" by Simple Plan (here by The Dance of The Dragons), "Leaves From The Vine" (from "Avatar: The Last Airbender", here played as a cover)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the songs listed in this chapter nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

When you enter the green room, you pay no mind to Aemond’s intense blue-eyed gaze that is trained on you, nor do you pay any attention to Jace and Aegon looking between the two of you like you’re a couple of lab rats, because who the fuck knows what that’s all about? You pull out your pack of Marlboro’s, scowling when you see it’s empty.

“Anyone got a cig?”

Baela gives you a look, “I thought you quit. Bad for the vocal cords and lungs?”

You think for a minute before throwing your head back and laughing, “Oh yeah. Fuck, I totally forgot.”

It’s the first time Aemond has even seen you smile, he realizes, and he stares at you, absolutely mesmerized. His tongue darts out to mess with his lip ring before he decides to speak up.

“So how did you guys meet again?”

“College,” Helaena replies, “We were on the same floor freshman year.”

Aemond looks at you curiously, “What’s your major?”

“Dropping out with a minor in disappointing my parents,” you respond dryly, “I work full time at the record store now. I don’t have time for school.” He frowns and opens his mouth but you cut him off archly, “And I missed the part where I asked for your opinion on it, blondie.”

Aegon and Jace snicker at his dumbfounded expression as he stutters, “I- uh-”

You ignore him and turn to Jace, giving him a lazy smile, “Those strings are working out great, by the way. Thanks for that.”

He gives you a big cheesy grin in response as he messes with his curls, “Awesome! I’m glad I could help!”

“Hey,” Rhaena looks at her stepbrother and cousins, “Are you guys coming to our show tomorrow? You never RSVP’d to the Facebook invite.”

You look at her, snickering as you pat her head, “Baby, people don’t use Facebook anymore.”

She whines and slaps your hand away, “Damn it, not the hair!”

You laugh as Rhaena gets up to go get a soda from the vending machine.

Aegon looks at you, grinning, “So, your gig is playing that Battle of the Bands qualifier tomorrow, right?”

You nod, a self-satisfied grin on your face, “Yeah. Pretty sure we’re going to win our spot.”

“That’s awesome, good luck!” Aegon says, clapping you on the shoulder, “You girls are going to do amazing.”

You smile before turning away from him to ask Helaena if she’s going to roll a joint.

“Weed is bad for you, whether you think it or not,” Jace informs you, grinning slightly as you take a hit off of one the joints Helaena had already rolled.

“Better than tobacco. Anyway, everything that’s fun is bad for you,” you shrug nonchalantly, “What’s the point in living like that?”

Aemond stares at you in admiration as you take a deep inhale, letting the herb fill your lungs, your ruby red lips wrap around the paper, imagining them leaving a red stain on something else.

“If you still have tickets available, we’d love to see your show, Helaena,” he clears his throat and looks at his sister, who smiles happily.

“I’ll have them put you three on the list!”

Aemond looks at you for a minute, not speaking, before finally asking, moving to fix his bandana that’s sliding down his face, “So, um, are you working tomorrow?”

You nod hesitantly, “Yeah, why?”

“I was going to pass by and buy some new-”

“Never mind, I’m not working tomorrow.”

Baela snorts out a laugh at Aemond’s shocked face.

“She is working,” Helaena mutters under her breath to her brother, “Shift is from 8 to 4.”

He gives her a nearly imperceptible nod of thanks. Helaena knows both of you recently got out of bad relationships, well rather Aemond is about to get out of one, and is mildly interested to see how you would mesh together. Aemond is the smartest guy she knows and you’re a total badass. And it’s obvious that there’s an attraction there. She notices the way your eyes find his pretty boy face when he’s not looking, admiring that gorgeous head of hair.

Closing time rolls around sooner than later and Jace runs up to hug you again, “Thank you so much for coming,” he grins, “Let’s exchange numbers! We should all do something soon!”

You shrug, “Yeah, why not. Remind me tomorrow at the show,” you turn to the other two, giving them a two finger salute, “Blondie one. Blondie two.”

Aemond stares after you as you walk away, already rehearsing in his head what he’s going to say when he sees you tomorrow.

Aemond doesn’t end up coming to the record store that day, too tied up in yet another argument with Alys, but he makes sure to dress his damn best to your show that night, putting on his favorite Metallica shirt, leather pants, and one of his signature bandanas. Jace and Aegon tease him, asking why he’s so dressed up, but he just grumbles and climbs in the back of the Uber, crossing his arms, bouncing his knee up and down in anticipation as they head to the venue.

In the green room, you and the girls huddle up.

“Okay, guys,” you say, “If we make it through tonight, we’re in the semis. We have to play our fucking asses off. Show them that girls can fuckin’ rock, alright?”

“Damn straight, baby,” Rhaena grins.

“We got this!” Helaena agrees.

“Hands in,” Baela demands, “One, two three, rock on, bitches!”

When you all walk out onto the stage to set up, your set being in twenty minutes, you can’t help but notice the three goons in the front row. Aemond, Aegon, and Jace are standing there. You move toward your mic stand, right above where they’re standing. You kneel down and set your water bottle on the ground before fiddling with the stand itself.

You’re wearing an oversized Misfits shirt and leather jacket with ripped fishnets and combat boots. Your hair is open and messy and wild, red lipstick on as always, and your eyeliner slightly smudged.

Aemond is about ninety percent sure he’s in love.

“You look great,” Jace compliments, leaning against the stage, “I can’t wait to finally see you guys perform. Been meaning to catch a show.”

Helaena and Rhaena move toward the front of the stage, both of them greeting their respective brothers while Baela waves from her stool by the drums. The boys quickly wish all four of you luck.

“We don’t need luck,” Helaena grins, wrapping an arm around you, “We have the best front woman in King’s Landing.”

“Notice she said ‘front woman',” Aegon states cheekily, “Cuz I’m the best frontman.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, bud,” you tease him.

And the lights go down and the crowd starts screaming you and your bandmates names. You’ve built a solid, loyal following on the local scene and you have fans who come out to every one of your shows. You and the girls grin at each other, proud of what you’ve built and are continuing to build.

You yell out to the crowd, “Good evening, King’s Landing, we are The Doom of Old Valyria!”

You start with your band’s first single, “Bad Reputation”. You glance down and see the boys rocking out to it, feeling mildly smug considering you wrote it. Next up is another one of your more popular ones, “Barracuda”, written by Baela, followed by your absolute favorite song Helaena has ever written, “Edge of Seventeen”.

For the next song, as always, you go acoustic. Rhaena and Helaena move back to grab their water bottles and let you shine.

“Okay, you guys have been an amazing audience tonight. I can’t thank you guys enough. And, uh,” you pause, smiling out at the crowd, “This next song is kinda personal to me. We’re gonna get a little raw here,” the audience screams in response, making you smile, “I hope you enjoy it.”

You strum your guitar, voice ridden with angst as you begin to sing.

“I can be tough. I can be strong. But with you it’s not like that at all. There’s a girl that gives a shit. Behind this wall, you just walk through it,” you blink back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes every time you play this goddamn song, “And I remember all those crazy things you said. You left them running through my head, you’re always there, you’re everywhere. But right now I wish you were here.”

Helaena and Rhaena come up next to you, knowing how personal this song is to you. The boys stare up at you, wondering who the song is about, but in awe of how good you sound even when it’s just you and your old guitar.

“All those crazy things we did, didn’t think about it, just went with it. You’re always there. You’re everywhere, but right now I wish you were here.”

“She sounds even better on acoustic,” Aegon comments - Jace nods in agreement while Aemond shushes the pair of them, listening to you intently.

“Damn, damn, damn,” you take a shuddering breath, thinking of the person who this song is about, “What I’d do to have you here, here, here. I wish you were here,” Aemond hears the hint of a waver in your voice as you continue, “Damn, damn, damn, what I’d do to have you near, near, near,” you pause, “I wish you were here.”

He notices one solitary tear sliding down your eye, leaving a trail of mascara in its wake. This song must be very personal to you. The three boys are transfixed as you continue strumming, Rhaena and Baela each resting their heads on your shoulders.

The crowd goes insane at the end of the song. You smile out at them, taking a quick bow.

“That’s enough sad shit for now, right?” you grin, “Let’s have some fuckin’ fun for this last one.”

Baela starts pounding her drum set again, segueing into your second most popular song, “Cherry Bomb”, written by Rhaena during one of her “I fucking hate school, let me drop out and tour with my band” moments. Rhaena shreds her guitar and you nod your head to the beat, grabbing the mic stand and swinging your hips.

Aemond is quite literally almost swooning over you, Aegon and Jace realize. He’s leaning against the stage, staring up at you with heart eyes. He seems to notice their amused expressions and quickly tries to change his expression to a more impassive one, feeling like a complete jackass.

“Thank you, King’s Landing, and good night!”

Rhaena hands you her guitar pick, in your ritual for the end of every show. You press a kiss to it and toss it into the crowd, Aemond catching it with a wide grin on his face.

The boys then head back to meet you all in the green room and wait for the results from the judges.

You wait backstage, seated on one of the stools, tapping your foot incessantly as you wait for the results to be announced. You’re gnawing at your lower lip, fiddling with your hair.

Every nervous habit you think you’ve kicked is coming back full force.

“Seven Hells, you’ve been such a mess since you quit smoking,” Helaena laughs, “If we make it, we make it. If we don’t, there’s always next year.”

“Yeah, but how many next years do we have, Hel?” you point out, “We’re not getting any younger,” you pause, looking at the girls, “Who says all four of us are even gonna be here next year? Life isn’t guaranteed. Hell, tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. You can’t sit around and wait for something big to happen, skipping out on opportunities and shit. You gotta make it happen here and now. You gotta take your shot and you gotta make sure you don’t fuckin’ miss.”

Helaena realizes what you’re talking about. What’s got you in this messy frame of mind. She comes over and embraces you.

“We’ve got this. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sure we’ll make it, babe,” Baela grins, slapping your back, “We were the baddest bitches out there tonight.”

The four of you each receive a text just as Aemond, Aegon, and Jace enter the room.

Rhaena shrieks, “We’re in!”

“Holy fuck,” you whisper before stand up and screaming, “We’re in the fucking semifinals!”

“You guys are in?” Aemond nods, “Good, you were the best band out there tonight. No one deserves this more than you girls.”

You quickly excuse yourself, wanting nothing more than to get a drink from the bar and calm your nerves. The others remain in the green room, lounging around.

Baela frowns, not bothering to glance up from her phone as she swipes on Tinder, drawling, “Damn, why are all the bitches in King’s Landing so boring?”

Rhaena sighs, “The men are worse, trust.”

Helaena nods, “I’ll drink to that.”

The next day, you sit at the checkout counter at work, bobbing your head along with the new Direwolves single, singing along since no one else is in the store.

Well, at least, until Aemond walks in. He stays quiet, walking over to the section you usually lead him to, wanting to hear your voice a while longer.

“He calls her up, he’s trippin’ on the phone now, he doesn’t want her out there and alone now.”

Aemond ends up humming along as well.

When the song ends, you notice him and walk up, “Back so soon, blondie?”

He smirks slightly, following after you to the alternative rock section, “I just wanted to say your set was great. Your voice is even better live.”

You give him a look, “Are you trying to butter me up to get me to give you a discount? Cuz it’s not happening.”

“You clearly find me attractive, is there a pretty privilege discount?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake, man.”

He sighs, “Sorry. I’m not trying to be an asshole. It just kind of happens.”

You shrug, “Hey, I’ve been told I have the same problem,” you toss him a copy of Vaes Dothrak’s new album, “Here. You might like this. It’s not in English, but it’s got a great sound.”

He looks at you and nods in thanks as he follows you to the register, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he exhales sharply in annoyance, making you laugh, “Yeah, man, whatever. Just ask.”

“That song you wrote. The acoustic one. Who was it about?”

You freeze before shaking your head, “I’m not answering that. Shit’s too personal.”

He frowns slightly but nods in understanding, “Sure,” he turns back to you before leaving, “I guess I’ll see you at the semifinals?”

Your headphones are already back on. He sighs and turns on his heel.

Sometimes, it’s like you’re about to open up to him. But then others?

You’re just so fucking far out of reach.

At band practice that night, Aemond tunes his bass, frowning slightly. Thinking of you.

Fucking hell.

He starts playing a random riff, “I don’t even like you, why’d you want to go and make me feel this way? I don’t understand what’s happened, I keep saying things I never say.”

“Ooh, who inspired that?” Jace grins, “I think I know!”

“Shut up,” Aemond grumbles, giving up on writing it in front of his bandmates.

“I was thinking,” Jace looks at the others, “Most of our songs are really upbeat, ya know? Why don’t we try writing something more personal,” he pauses, “Like that song the girls did.”

“Why the fuck do we keep talking about her?” Aemond grouches, “She’s not that great.”

Aegon and Jace exchange a smirk, the former speaking, “What about that one? The one you wrote back in high school?”

“The one about Dad?”

Aegon nods, “I think it could be really badass. Not acoustic, but a slower, almost punk ballad.”

Aemond thinks for a minute before starting to play the intro. Jace and Aegon join in.

“Hey, Dad, look at me. Think back and talk to me, did I grow up according to plan?”

The lyrics speak to Aegon too. He remembers the way Viserys ignored them. The way he neglected them.

“And do you think I’m wasting my time doing things I want to do? But it hurts when you disapprove all along.”

The song is cathartic for Aemond, he feels himself releasing years of rage, resentment, sadness as he plays, “And now I try hard to make it, I just want to make you proud,” he strums even harder, “I’m never gonna be good enough for you, can’t pretend that I’m alright.”

“And you can’t change me,” the brothers sing together, “Cause we lost it all. Nothin’ lasts forever, I’m sorry I can’t be perfect.”

Aegon continues, “Now it’s just too late and we can’t go back, I’m sorry I can’t be perfect.”

The boys stop and look at each other, Jace speaking, “That sounds amazing, you guys. We should put it in our set for the semis.”

The brothers nod, looking at each other.

“You should go to his grave today,” Aegon says quietly, “You haven’t been in a while. Sometimes I go and just scream. Sometimes I just talk to him. It helps more than you think.”

“Uh, hey, you,” you speak, your voice cracking slightly, “Sorry, it’s been a while since we talked. Um, I just. I really fucking miss you. I played that song I wrote about you and people really liked it,” you bite back a sob, “It’s just really hard being here without you and I just wish,” you shake your head, “I don’t know. But I love you. So fucking much.”

You let out a sharp exhale, letting a few tears fall. You quickly wipe your eyes.

“Remember when we were kids and we used to play ‘Avatar’? And we’d say that you were Aang and I was Katara cuz you were the happy one and I was always kinda an angry little asshole? Um,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “I brought my guitar. I know you always loved it when I used to play. And this song. I was rewatching it on Netflix and that episode came on. The one that always made us cry. And it just fuckin’ reminds me of you now.”

You sit down and start playing, singing softly, quietly, “Leaves from the vine falling so slow, like fragile tiny shells drifting in the foam,” your voice breaks as you continue playing, refusing to stop, “Little soldier boy, come marching home. Brave soldier boy, comes marching,” you pause, whispering the last word, “Home.” You wipe your eyes, crying again, “I wish I could’ve told you how I felt. How I really felt. You always said I was the bravest person you knew, but I was such a coward. And now it’s too late. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

Aemond watches from his father’s grave only a few feet away, remaining out of sight as you pick up your guitar and get off the ground. You were within his earshot the whole time. He didn’t mean to listen in. But the song you played, he’d recognized it from that show he and his brother and sister used to watch when they were kids. He heard everything you said.

The song you wrote wasn’t about someone who broke your heart, he realizes. It was about someone you loved, who you had lost. Who you were never able to admit your feelings to. That’s why you were crying while singing it.

You leave a single rose on the tombstone you were beside and kiss it before walking away.

Once you’re out of sight, he goes to see who you were visiting. Who that song was about.

His fingers trace the granite, where your lips were only a few moments before as he reads the inscription.

In Loving Memory,

Cerelle Lannister

Beloved Daughter and Friend

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #my writing #dotd fic

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loremaster · 6 months

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PROLOGUE - We All Live In A Smelly Submarine (Comic)

Nine Master Detectives and one detective-in-training convene with the Chief aboard the Nocturnal Detective Agency's semi-sub-aquatic headquarters. It's pretty cramped, and it reeks of tobacco.

Yakou tries to take charge of the group, but quickly finds that Master Detectives in greater numbers are not easy to give orders to...

((tw: cigarettes, cartoon violence + blood))

Suddenly the phone rings! They make Yuma answer it, of course.

They chat with #1 who tells them to investigate "Kanai Ward's Ultimate Secret" and the "Great Global Mystery".

Then the Master Detectives start talking about using their Fortes to start digging into Amaterasu Corp ASAP, and Yakou balks. "Don't piss them off," he pleads, "they're too scawy :( if we just stand really still and don't bother them maybe the mystery will solve itself :'D"

The Chief's cowardice causes a stir in the room.

Zilch and Aphex's bickering becomes louder and more heated. Yuma can tell looking at Pucci - sitting on the floor next to the guy in the fireplace - that the volume level is starting to piss her off. He's worried she'll get enraged like she did on the train, but before she can -- a different voice speaks out.

Finally, the conversation winds back around to Yakou's leadership abilities.

And then the extended gang gets a radical anime opening. Yippee!

-------

Feels like this one took a while, but honestly I banged most of this out over the past couple days. I've been busy working on Chapter 1... and forgot the game also had a prologue. Whoops. I guess that means Chapter 1 will be uploaded pretty soon after this one - maybe on Monday or something.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy - I've had a blast reading through everyone's tags on Chapter 0 so far and each little comment gives me so much serotonin you have no idea ;u; Keep 'em comin'! (My askbox is also open if you have any questions or theories about Boba AU so far >:D)

As always, thanks for reading!

BOBA AU MASTERPOST: [link]

#rain code #master detective archives #mdarc #yuma kokohead #yakou furio #halara nightmare #vivia twilight #desuhiko thunderbolt #fubuki clockford #zilch alexander #aphex logan #pucci lavmin #melami goldmine #zange eraser #boba au #the gang's all here...#abcd art #I'M PROUD OF THIS ONE i almost skipped the prologue but i'm glad i didnt. anyway ENJOY

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suggs444 · 6 months

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Bad For Buisness:

William Afton/Steve Raglan x Reader

Sypnopsis: You find out your boss, Steve, who is also your secret lover, has a false identity. As well as an unknown history. You attempt to be reasonable, to set things right, but your boss .. well, he knows you all too well.

TW: swearing, degrading, manipulating, implied sexual actions.

Authors note: Hi, Suggs here. So this is my first x reader that I’ve written in a long long time. And it’s my first ever William Afton based one too. I literally saw the movie and I was 🙈🙈 whenever peepaw was on screen. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and lmk if you want more / a part two. Thanks for reading !! <33

Gif by brotherdusk

“I should tell everyone!”

You protest, boldly, standing on the other side of Afton’s desk. Your arms cross in an attempt to assert your dominance in this situation - which is rare. William was usually the one with the upper hand. You were foolish to think otherwise, even now.

There he sat with his sunken frame, slouched in his office chair, hands loosely intertwined in his lap. Brows raised in mocking surprise, almost expecting, as if waiting for you to come to your senses. He stares, and you find yourself stuck for words.

You gulp, hard. Frozen in his icy gaze.

“I mean — you’re lying to our consumers! To your staff - to me! Your names not Steve Raglan ..” Your words drift off, lacking much defence and reason.

“It’s bad for business.”

You continue, proudly, pointing your chin upward. As though that sentence completely justified your debate.

William’s head tilts slightly,

“Since when do you care about business quality, y/n?”

You didn’t care. He knew it, and he knew you all too well. Well enough to know you didn’t give a shit about the business, or anyone else. You were upset about not knowing every little detail about him. You’re obsessed. Needy, he knows. Only the two of you mattered. The secret of your intimacy. The sneaking off, the inappropriate relationship. Now, that? That was bad for business.

“Hm?” He presses, condescendingly, brows raising more while waiting for an answer as he sits forward out of his slouch. His exposed forearms coming to lean against the table.

You’re quiet, already. Defeated.

He sucks on his teeth.

“That’s what I thought.”

He leans back into his chair with an exhale, shaking his head.

“I’ve done some things, y/n.” He confesses, “-bad things.”

You can only stare at him.

He pushes himself out of his chair, eyes remaining pinned to yours. You knew your boss wasn’t a good man, fuck, maybe that’s what drew you to him, but you hadn’t expected this.

“What things?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He cuts you off, stern. Stern enough that you know not to push it any more. You bite your tongue, suddenly feeling small by his towering height. William wasn’t a necessarily attractive man, or at least not for everyone. He was older than you. Much older. But clever, so very clever - and wise. Something about his stability, the way he carried himself. The reassurance he gave you and the praise. You could hardly resist him.

“Had to cover my tracks. Tie up loose ends, do you understand? That’s my business, it’s need to know and you don’t.” His voice, a nasal drawl as he slowly rounded the desk, the pads of his fingers drawing along the old wood as he reached you.

“And I certainly don’t need you,” he pauses, pressing his torso against your back. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his scent, a mix of cheap cologne and tobacco.

“-running your sweet mouth and spilling my secrets.” He continues. You melt against him despite the firmness of his tone. You were a slave to your desires. Only he could make the meanest things sound so indulging.

You hum at the closeness. Trying to remain strong headed despite your vision clouding from the intensity of the lustful haze you had for this man. You weren’t weak, just devoted.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You do.

“Do you understand?”

You nod stubbornly. He tuts,

“Use your words, y/n.”

“I understand.”

He shoots you a unsatisfied look.

You sigh, “I understand, sir.”

He smiles then, cockily, knowing he had won this time. His eyes creasing beneath his glasses.

“That’s my girl.” He coos, a warm hand coming to cup your cheek. Your eyes close, savouring the action, leaning into his palm. He was always so busy, so intimacy came slim. A rarity. You learnt to enjoy the small gestures.

The warmth was gone the next second. Opening your eyes to find him returning to his seat. You whined softly, turning to him as he settled back in his chair - instantly going back to his paperwork.

“That’s it?” You plead.

His eyes shot up to you over his glasses. Almost surprised you were still there. He sighs through his nose.

“Tell you what,” he lifts his head to give you his full attention.

“You’ve got the rest of this week to prove you can keep your mouth shut. I wanna trust you, y/n. I can do that, can’t I?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mr Afto-“ You stop yourself, realising you’re using his real name, his secret name. He’s glaring.

“-Mr Raglan.” You correct yourself, smiling wearily.

“Much better. Keep that up, and I’ll make up for lost time. I’ll give you what you need.”

You sigh sweetly, nodding. The mere thought of that making your knees weak.

“I won’t let you down, I promise.”

You reassure, shooting him one last smile as you turn and leave.

The week can’t end soon enough.

#william afton #william afton x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #matthew lillard #steve raglan #five nights at freddy's

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