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fictionalslvr · 1 year ago

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Part two part three

SYNOPSIS:Ghost is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. You're the only one to be kind with him.

PAIRING: (Based of comic but that's not 100% canon) Simon Riley neighbor x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:3.500k

WARNINGS: Fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) etc.

NOTES:Ghost past is based on his comics, i'll prob make this one a mini serie (if you guys like), a lot different then what i usually write for, but i hope you guys enjoy without being what you guys are used on this blog, i'm planning to write both, angst and smut, even mix them sometimes. So, i hope you guys enjoy :(

(And again, tell me if there's something wrong, english is not my first language.)

It’s been a long while since you lived alone, and it’s been a very comfortable life since then. At first, it made you feel uneasy, after a long while, you were getting used to it, and having a place to call yours it’s everything you wanted before. Your apartment is cozy, organized with things you like, and you always try your best to keep it clean. The neighborhood is quite calm as well, you were living peacefully in this apartment complex.

That was until a new neighbor came in. He was a tall guy, he had a mysterious aura around him, it’s the quiet type and you don’t hear him speaking so often, actually, you never heard. To be honest, he doesn’t stay in his apartment too much, it’s the one above you, and hearing him it’s unusual. Maybe it is his work that keeps him so far for too long, you can’t say exactly what he works with, since you don’t know him properly. The only thing you know is that he keeps his face a mystery, always walking with a black balaclava that shows only his eyes, and this is a mystery you were dying to get to know. One day, while walking back to your humble home, you took the same elevator as the new neighbor, the silence that creeps out is weird, and you keep your eyes everywhere, but not on him. The silence was bizarre, and it seemed like it was going to take forever! When the elevator door opens in your floor, you can only rushes out of that tiny place with that man, that almost make you hyperventilate.

He looked calm during it, laying his back in the walls while his arms were crossed and he was looking distracted. With a quick but gentle movement, you just nod your head to him when leaves, he looks surprised by it, and nods back after some seconds staring at you. The metal door closes slowly, showing no more his figure.

But your encounters with him were always like this. Some head nods and sometimes a smile from your part, But the mystery this man is, no one knows him well enough for a talk, and this was making you insane, All days, you caught yourself thinking about him, how his voice sounded like, how his face is behind that mask, what he works with, what is his name, his age..things like that kept haunting your thoughts. Until one day, you decided to make a slight move, asking for some ingredient would be a great way to hear his voice, and maybe later baking him something to give it to him.

You sigh, you heard some footsteps, he must be home today. You knock on the door, gently with your hands shaking. It doesn’t take too much until your ears peak with the sound of him getting close to the door. His figure appears when he opens just half of the door.

—”May I help you?” —His voice is raspy, calm and relaxed at the same time. You notice how he has a strong British accent. From this distance, you can smell his scent, it’s strong and smells like whiskey and cigarettes, it’s oddly…comforting.

—”Sorry for bothering, I'm the neighbor below, I just want to know…if you have some sugar to give, by any chance.” —With a cute smile, you show him a little bowl in your hands that he can put the sugar in, the man narrows his eyes at you and nods.

—”Yes, I do. wait a minute.” — His fingers brush against yours when he takes the bowl in your hands and goes inside for a while. He leaves the door slightly open, and you just wait outside hearing his heavy footsteps around the house. When he’s back, your little bowl is filled with sugar, and he gives it back to you, his fingers brushing yours again.

—”Thanks, this will help a lot. I’m making cookies…would you like some?” — Your gentle voice was hard to ignore, he slowly nodded, and you can hear a little chuckle escaping his lips. It’s very good to hear, you felt your heart skipping a beat, he’s leaning against the door frame, looking at you.

—”Thanks for the sugar, I'm [name] by the way." —He keeps silent for a while, like he’s listening to your voice attentively.

—”It was nothing. I’m glad to help you, [name].”—You were expecting that he would say his name, but he just tries your name on his tongue. The tense ambient between you two is noticeable when the silence is back. You can only hum softly and look away.

—’What is…your name?”

—Simon. Call me Simon.”

—”Oh…okay Simon, thanks again and pleasure to meet you. Goodbye!”—Was a short talk, but it was enough to make your heart flutter with the warmth of his voice. You wave at him and he waves back, then all you can see is his back turning, his figure fading inside his house.

Quickly, you made your way back, still shivering a little, scared that he might think you’re weird. With a loud sigh, you close the door behind you, feeling safe inside your home. You know his name now…Simon. His voice is raspy and deep, and yet, makes you feel like you want to hear this voice every morning, the warmth of his body so close, his dark eyes staring at you making your legs weak. Everything about him didn't sound cold as they describe him.

He wasn’t that cold, deep and dark, no. He sounded so sweet and endearing to you, you just wish you could meet him better, talk to him more, listen to his voice, feel his presence towering at you, his expressions that you can only understand by his eyes, and you find this very beautiful, understand his feeling through his eyes, hear his warm chuckle filling the hall and not leaving your ears. It was memorable, even if it looked silly or too short. You felt really happy for doing that ‘move’.

Your kitchen is filled by a sweet smell, it’s the cookies you baked, with cute gloves around your hands, you take the plate with cookies and blow the steam off softly, Okay…you should give this to Simon now. You left a cute note too, that says ‘Enjoy the cookies, i hope its good :D’

After one hour of your visit, Simon doesn't stop thinking about his neighbor. You're sweet, you're the only one in this complex that had the courage to talk to him, the other ones just look at him from afar and give him some judgmental glances. But you...you came to talk, and was smiling too! That definitely means you're not afraid of him, that you're willing to talk to him even when he's using that balaclava all the time. His thoughts are interrupted by some knock on his door, and weirdly…he hopes it's you again. He walks to the door and opens, with some kind of rush, but he doesn't see your cute smiling figure, no…he looks everywhere and there's no sight of you, but looking down, he finds a little plate painted with flowers, there's some cookies on it and a note too. He bends his body down a little and smiles through the balaclava. Picking up the plate, he can sense the smell of the warm cookies, it's still a bit hot, the steam in the air, blowing a delightful scent. He enters his apartament again, closing the door with his feet as he looks at the cookies in his hands, they look delicious. Simon starts to read the post-it in the plate, it has a message for him

"Enjoy the cookies, i hope it's good :D"

-[Name]

That's cute, he thought. It takes a chuckle out of him. His stomach starts to snore in hunger, that smell filling his brain and all he can think about is…why is she being so nice? No one in this complex was ever this nice with him, somehow, they seem to be scared of him, disgusted, or even feel pity for him. But being kind? She's the first one and all he can think about is the reasons she's doing this. He's a stoic soldier, who works a lot, doesn't stay at home too much, smells of whiskey and cigarettes, he doesn't show his face, he's tall, looks scary…why is she not afraid of Simon? He sighs and shakes his head. Sitting on his couch with a loud sigh, he rests his head back while eating her cookies, it's indeed delicious as the smell, it's house made and tastes like love. He can't help but leave a joyful hum at the taste.

—"Why is this so good?" —He talks to himself, that seems a little crazy, but he's his only company for a long while, so he's used to this. She could have poisoned him with these cookies, but no, her intentions were good. He's a cautious man, always thinking of his work, and his work only. But now? He can only taste these good cookies and wish for more, he wishes he could taste a lot of things that she made, seeing her cooking would be adorable, and the taste and smell of it only fills his heart with love, the love he never experienced before. Simon caught himself thinking of being with her, on her apartment, seeing her cook while she mumbles a song to herself, moving her body along the kitchen so cutely, he can't help but think that he wants this for his life, this peaceful mind for once, being at easy, without all the fear his work provides. And for once, rest his mind.

But she's only a kind neighbor, he shouldn't be thinking of this. He shouldn't be thinking of coming back after a long mission, and seeing her lips curling into a smile, feeling her little arms hugging him because she missed him too much, he doesn't have this. And he thinks he didn't even deserve this peace. All the people he killed with his hands, the blood he dropped, the fear in people's gaze when he's around, he's not the one who should be at a comfort in home, happy and living good, no. He thinks he doesn't deserve this at all. She's probably just being kind, why would she enjoy his company after all? He doesn't have anything good in him, he's only a stoic man, with scars, a bad past and a hard work to do that makes his hands dirty. He's sure a man like him doesn't have this.

As for you, you didn't want to bother him with your presence again, so you just left the cookies on his door, rushing back to the elevator when you knocked on the door. You wish you could see his reaction, but you don't want to disturb his peace once more, talking a lot while he just listens. You really wish he liked it. While you're on your couch, your legs are moving up and down quickly, in a nervous movement, you can't help but bite your nails, your other fingers fidgeting on your lap, as your mind is full of thoughts about his reaction. Will he like it? What if he finds you annoying? What if he finds you weird and doesn't want you around? Gosh, your mind is tricking yourself. You sigh loudly and decide to try some sleep, this will maybe put your mind at ease once, meeting new people wasn't that easy for you.

By the morning, you woke up, not from the sunlight on your body, flashing on your eyes, not from the discomfort in your back from your sleeping positions, not from your cat resting in your tummy, none of this. But, you woke up by the sound of a knock in your door, a single one, who could be this early? You get up, leaving your little cat resting now in the bed, the sunlight keeping her warm. Your vision is still a little blurry, you rub your eyes with your fingers and walk to the door, opening without thinking too much about it, and the sight of who’s here messes your mind, making your vision immediately fix alone and your mind races, the sleep left your body.

—”Sorry for appearing so early. I am…going to work. And just wanted to say thanks for the cookies last night, they were delicious.” —Simon spoke softly, he seems not sleepy at all now, but his baggy eyes show that maybe he didn’t sleep, that’s why he’s so energetic now. You blush softly, his voice is even more deep in the morning, that British accent never leaving his tongue as he speaks.

—”Oh, that’s okay, I'm glad you liked it, Simon.” —Your voice sounded dragged by the remaining sleep, but you managed to give him a little smile. You want to know what he works with to leave this early.

—”I can see you were sleeping, sorry.” —Simon looks away, scratching the back of his neck even with the balaclava, scratching the silk of it. You look at your body and notice you're with your pajamas, it’s an old one, that is now short for you, and you can’t help but blush for Simon seeing you like this.

—”Don’t worry about it. Would you…like some coffee?” —You try to change the subject, hoping he won’t talk about your pajamas. A silence stays for a long while, Simon looks into your eyes, he’s surprised about your offer and it's visible. He can only nod and mumbles under his breath. He knows that he shouldn't be accepting this, he doesn’t deserve to have a calm breakfast, with someone who doesn't look at him disgusted by his acts, someone that is too innocent, that doesn't know what those hands did, what his ears listened to, what his eyes saw. For a brief second, he had a flashback of his past, everything he did. You're kind because you don’t know this man, don’t know the danger he could be to someone so innocent like you, who could literally break you with those blood painted hands.

You invite him inside, he’s now on your table, tapping his fingers on your table, as your figure is with you back turned to him, making coffee. This house is so cozy, warm and…a bit feminine, he could say. Simon looks in every detail, noticing how there's a lot of photos of you with what seems to be your family. You have someone that cares about you, everything he had vanished like dust, you’re so lucky for having a family. He wonders, if your family would take care of him too, if they would accept him like a son, and yet…he doesn’t have nothing with you, just some small talk. Maybe he is only overthinking. Your voice snaps him out of a trance, while he looks at your photos around the house.

—”How do you like your coffee? With sugar?”—He drives his attention to you again, who’s looking at him from your shoulder. He likes sugar, it’s something that can distract him from his bitter life.

—”With sugar, please.” —And after a while, in a good and comforting silence, you pour the coffee in two cups, putting one in front of the man on her table. He looks so much bigger than her chair, it’s a little funny, in a good way. The steam flows from their cups as Simon looks down to it, his face is hard to read, after all, only his eyes appear. Then, you caught yourself wondering, how he would drink the coffee with that balaclava.

—”I won’t look, i promise.”—You looks away, while blowing the steam and taking a sip of your coffee to disguise your nervous manner, bad idea, it was hot as hell, it burn your tongue, and you hiss in pain, dropping the cup back into the table quickly, happily, it didn’t break, You make a pout with your lips, your tongue hurts a lot now.

—”Oh, are you…okay?” —Simon left everything he was thinking behind and walked in front of you. He kneels down to level his height, since you’re sitting in the chair. His figure bends down to yours, his hands are shaking when he touches your arm slightly, like he’s afraid to make you uncomfortable.

—”Is’h okay…”—Your voice sounds weird, since your tongue hurts, you can’t speak properly. Simon takes a cup from your sink and pour the sink water on it, it’s not cold, neither hot. He kneels back, looking up to your eyes and giving you the cup with water.

—”Here, warm water will help.” —You do as he advises and drink the water without hesitation. The burden sensation easen a little, he seems to know what to do in this kind of situation.

—”How did you knew…thanks.”—Deciding to interrupt your question, you just say thanks to him. He looks right into your eyes, his expression seems softer a little, seeing you’re a little better.

—”My job…makes me learn how to prepare yourself for all kinds of situations.” —He talks a little about his job, not revealing what exactly it is. You look down at him, keeling down on his knees while looking worried about you, his hands still shaking, wandering on his knees, not touching you to make you uncomfortable. After all he passed through, he wouldn’t want someone like you to feel the same.

—”Thanks, it helped somehow. You’re really prepared for this.”

—”It’s my job to protect people. We have our ways to do so.” —Simon gets up from the ground and walks back to his chair, in front of you, slightly he lifts up his balaclava, revealing only his mouth and drinks a sip. The coffee it's not as hot as it was before. In a sign of respect, you look away, not wanting to invade his privacy, and he appreciates this a lot. After the burden sensation ends, you drink your now cold coffee, both in silence as you look away all the time, even with the curiosity to see his lips, you won’t do it. And by his words, you can guess what he works with…maybe he’s a doctor, a firefighter…a military?

—”The coffee is delicious, thanks for this.”—He feels himself going back to when his mom was alive, she was the only one who would really care about him, making him coffee…and this moment reminds him about her. It still hurts. A lot. He sighs softly, and you can say he’s thinking about something, but you won’t ask.

—”You often stay a lot of days out for work, no? Seems like a hard job.”

—”A very hard one, everything I do, changes a life. Big choices, big responsibilities…”

—”I understand…at least, I hope you can rest when you’re at home.”

—”It depends. I don’t really have any time to rest.” —You can hear Simon sigh, he’s really tired of this job. You still look away, not seeing his lips exposed a little. This moment, it’s the first one he could rest, even for a bit, not rest his body, but rest his mind.

—”And…will you stay out for days this time?”

—”Who knows.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. What a bad life he has, staying out for days, and when he’s back, he can’t even rest his mind. This moment, he wishes he could live like this forever, hearing your soft voice as you look around to respect his privacy, he didn’t even need to ask for, you knew somehow. Your cozy and warm apartment, it’s a lot different from his, his is almost empty, boring, sad. But yours? Had memories, life, and happiness. He wishes he could stay there forever. And he knows his duty, saving the world, saving citizens, or he could say…killing lives on exchange to save others. Making his hands dirty, so no one would need to do, only to see people like you, who has a family, a happy life, a rested mind, that’s why he does his job, so people like you can live without worries. In exchange, he sees things horrific, he hears screams in his ears that live on his mind, his body ends up tired and sore from all of this, just to see your smile on your face. He had a terrible childhood, he fought for his life, lost everything that was dear to him, in order to keep the peace in the world. In order to meet you, to see your brilliant smile. At least, he likes to think that way, this makes his life less insignificant, it’s like he’s a hero, when he knows he’s not. It’s just better to see this way, and hope it’s the truth, hope it’s not his imagination, trying to make him less guilty for everything he did all his life.

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty #fluffy #light angst #angst

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lessbienlesbian · 1 year ago

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mizu x fem!reader

NSFW headcanons/drabble

this is my first time writing anything like this so uhh i hope y’all enjoy this filth. also, lmk if you want more writing about mizu. if you are not looking to see this type of content, please keep scrolling <3

it would take a significant amount of time and effort to form a close enough relationship with her for her to even consider having sex with you, as sex is representative of vulnerability, intimacy, and trust to her.

she would not be into having a one night stand or any other low commitment sexual encounters. her own libido and other worldly pleasures are not at all a priority to her, so it wouldn’t be worth jeopardizing the successful completion of her goal.

ok i don’t know if this is a controversial opinion but i think mizu is the biggest switch that ever switched.

when she is on top she loves to pin your arms above your head or to your sides as she trails kisses down your entire body.

she is such a tease, even when she doesn’t intend to be.

her persona completely shifts during intimate moments: her hardened exterior melts away, she becomes more communicative and playful, and when you’re pleasuring her she is just a complete mess for you.

she is very sensitive and it does not take much for her to come undone.

she is a bit possessive and protective over you but less in a toxic jealousy way and more in a “i can’t have another person betray me” way. she would try not to let that become super evident to you, but you kinda caught on just based on the amount of times she would whisper “mine” into your ear before absolutely ravishing you.

her boobs are super tender after she unbinds them so you have to be very gentle when touching them. this is definitely the only reason that you have to be gentle with them and its not also because one time you accidentally made her cum just from playing with her sensitive nipples ;)

ok i feel like i see everyone saying this but like i have to agree bc pussydrunk mizu? yeah. it just feels right.

she is a very loving partner

she loves to eat you out and not so secretly also loves for you to hold onto her hair while she does so

her face gets very flushed during sex and if you point that out to her she will 100% get even redder.

her first time topping:

even though she doesn’t know what she’s doing the first time she fucks you, she somehow goes straight for the clit, but she doesn’t collect any wetness from your soaking entrance. this increases the friction on your already throbbing nub so you cum super fast, but she just keeps going because she’s enjoying watching you so much. you get hella overstimulated and are a whimpering mess in her arms by the time she’s finished with you. if you ask her to stop she does immediately, but if you don’t, she just keeps going. delighted to have reduced you to a quivering mess on her first try, she looks at you with a shit-eating grin and adoration in her eyes before capturing your lips in another kiss. when she’s finished, she definitely asks “was that ok?” very earnestly and you’re like wtf mizu i just died and came back to life like yes that was definitely more than ok.

she is very vocal during sex, there’s lots of whimpers, groans, praises, and then also just straight up moaning. i also think that she would become more loose lipped during and after sex so she’d probably tell you that she loved you more frequently than usual.

“shit, please don’t stop”

“look at you, dripping for me already”

“your pussy is making such sloppy noises, is that all for me?”

she would absolutely be into praising you, especially in that low almost growly tone that she adopts at times.

“that’s it, just like that.”

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

“god, you make me feel so good”

she’s very cautious about location bc she doesn’t want to be found out

fingering because look at her hands hands hands hands she has very skilled hands very strong very careful fingers

i don’t think she would be into extremely rough/punishing sex. that’s not to say that she wouldn’t bring a certain intensity and exuberance to the table, but if she’s fucking you she actually likes you, and if she actually likes you then the worst she will do is give you the cold shoulder, playfully spar with you but not hard enough to intentionally injure you, make the occasional clueless insensitive comment, or tease you relentlessly. the rest of her life is made up almost entirely of violence so i think she wouldn’t want to bring that into her sex life as well. i do think that she would take her frustration out on you in other ways though.

oh hey speaking of taking her frustration out on you…overstimulation! after a particularly aggravating day she would turn her focus entirely onto you to get her mind off of things, just making you feel so good over and over almost until it’s too much. the two of you are very communicative during sex though so she is constantly checking in and asking if you’re ok.

sometimes she is so frustrated by her quest (or some bullshit that taigen or akemi just pulled) that she will take you to the nearest private place to fuck with a desperation and eagerness that doesn’t allow for either of you to get fully undressed.

she’d definitely be the type to push you against a wall and eat you out until you can barely stand

she’s a very quick learner and makes up for her inexperience with her energy and enthusiasm

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #mizu #mizu x you #blue eye samurai #mizu smut #bes mizu x reader #mizu x y/n #mizu x fem!reader #smut #bes smut

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signedkoko · 1 year ago

Note

You are such a sweetie! Since your requests are open, if you feel inspired and motivated by this (otherwise you can 100% ignore it, writing is hard - I know), could I request a one-shot for Vox who falls in love with a imp!reader? Would love to see how you write their "forbidden" love, how would Vox feel and what if the other Vee's found out about it. It doesn't have to be a story, you can do it in headcannon format if you feel like it suits better! Just try to have fun ♡ -Nia

Intern [Romantic]

In which the techy overlord falls for one of his new hellborn employees, much to his dismay. Reader is genderneutral.

Song - Break My Heart by Dua Lipa

Any hellborn would die for the opportunity that graced you. Well, graced was not the right word; you fought for months against many candidates, beefed up your resume, and pulled some strings to get an unpaid internship for the Vee's. More specifically, a three-month internship at VoxTek with the potential to be hired in immediately after.

It was a position people could only dream of, especially hellborn. Sinner-based companies had a tendency to place sinners above hellborns, but you knew that and used it to your advantage. You couldn't go in as equal; you had to know you were less and make up for it.

The job itself wasn't all that bad, either. It was a lot of unpaid hours, from the crack of dawn to the dip of the sun or later, but it mostly involved the small details. Coffee, sorting, and delivering mail between sections were hard to mess up.

There was the rare extra task where someone messed up and they needed someone to cover quickly.

Today was one of those days. You were at the right place at the right time, sitting by the coffee machine, grabbing yourself your first cup of the day.

That was when he entered, his shoes tapping on the floor with confident clicks, and when he spoke it commanded attention.

Mostly because he spoke through every speaker in the building at once.

"Who here can follow me? No questions asked."

Before anyone could chime in, his monitor did a full rotation of the room, his eyes narrowing when they landed on you.

Your ear piece buzzed to life.

"You, follow me. Now." The overlord spoke directly into your ear using the device, and knowing this may be an opportunity of a lifetime, you followed.

There was no question about who it was: a monitor for a head, control of all technology, and a towering seven feet tall. Vox was the top of the top, and it was hard to believe you were allowed to so much as stand next to him.

It was hard to keep up with his speed-walking pace, but he eventually led you into the mail elevator, hitting the twelfth floor while he muttered something about incompetence amongst hires and how he always had to take control of every production if he wanted it done right.

With a ding and the slow release of the elevator doors, he took the lead once more, though this time he was walking slower and backwards, navigating with ease despite looking directly at you.

"Alrighty intern, ready for your shot at becoming something more? Because our previous voiceover person just walked out on us, and now you'll be covering for them." He stopped with his back against a door, grabbing the handle and awaiting your reply.

"But I only just spoke to..."

"You're cute, you know that? How many videos do you think are out there with your voice? I listened to them all the moment I saw you." Vox only smiled wider when his words sunk in; he saw the usual flash of embarrassment as you pondered what he might have seen. Without waiting any longer, he pushed the door open, spinning so he was finally walking normally.

It was a recording studio, and there were several other employees waiting, mostly those handling the recording equipment and some holding papers.

Vox sat himself in a comfortable rolling chair in front of the glass window that overlooked the recording studio, spinning to hand you some papers that he took from a demon next to him.

"Here is your script; all you have to do is read. Make it sound exciting! Something new, something beyond anyone's imagination, is now available to the public!" He put on a voice as he continued, demonstrating what he hoped you could manage. Someone ushered you into the booth and plopped some headphones over your ears.

"From the top! 3...2..."

The whole process was a thrill, but you managed to run over the script in three separate recordings, of which Vox cited them all as 'stunning' or 'absolutely perfect!', though the producer claimed to need multiple for any potential recording malfunctions.

For an overlord, he had been oddly kind and encouraging throughout the process, and he walked you out himself when everything wrapped up.

Vox continued to speak about what the script was for and how excited he was for the launch, all while leading you through parts of the building you had never been to before. You thought after that he would have sent you back down and forgotten everything, but eventually you found yourself in front of your supervisor.

"Vox! Sir- oh no, had our intern upset you?"

"No, no, not at all. Sorry, what was your name again? Ally? Yeah, listen, Ally, I need you to handle the paperwork they were assigned. Oh! And I want them promoted to my personal studio for tomorrow, too."

Before you or the sinner could ask questions, Vox was already out of there, chipper as ever.

That evening, you went home with an upgraded badge and access card, along with details on your new position and expectations. It was a lot to get through, but you felt extremely proud of yourself for doing so well. Hell, you met THE Vox, and he wanted you to be the voice of VoxTek?

While flipping through the pile of information, the most surprising aspect was the six-figure salary you were about to get started on.

. . .

Surrounded by monitors, Vox watched various camera feeds as they traced your steps home. Vox saw you smile from several angles, the electricity between his antennae flickering. Each monitor had some kind of file or piece of information on you, and he was only pulled out of his trance when he got a call from Velvette.

"Hello there, Velvette! What can I help you with today?" Leaning back in his chair, the overlord flicked his wrist, which shot the call from his monitor onto one of the many others displaying you.

"I need your guys for a sh- wait. Vox, what the fuck is all of that?" While the fashionista originally had her eyes elsewhere, her gaze quickly fixed on his background, which was quickly followed by all the screens going blank with his logo.

"That? Oh, oh no, its nothing at a-"

"That's the imp you were talking about last week! The one you were trying to get to apply to VoxTek!"

"Well, maybe, but-"

Once again, she cut him off with a gurgling groan.

"Listen, I don't care who or what you fuck; just get your camera crew here and we'll talk about this later. Kay? Kisses!" Before she abruptly hung up on him, he could have sworn he heard a small 'at least they're hot' before the call disconnected.

Tensed from the interaction, Vox could only groan and dramatically fall back into his chair, tapping his claws along the armrest.

So what if he scouted you out? You didn't know that, and you were happy about it anyway! One by one, each monitor opened back up on your data, the overlord grinning.

It was better this way; everyone would think it was the intern going after him, so nobody knew one of the top overlords in hell was dotting on some helpless imp.

Author's Note - I love Vox so much...hes so obsessive but he denies every accusation (its the same w Alastor lmao) like its going to hurt him! But thank you so much for the request Nia, I hope this interests you 🖤

Word Count - 1,219

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #vox #vox x reader

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willows-escape · 5 months ago

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My Angel - 1990!Erik x Reader

Pairing: 1990!Cherik x AFAB!Reader (gender neutral pronouns/language)

Summary: You woke up that morning expecting a peaceful, regular day, but you were quickly proven horribly wrong as things began to travel down south. Fortunately, Erik is there to try and relieve some of the pain - even if it is excruciating.

Warnings(/Tags?): menstruation, descriptions of extremely painful periods (adenomyosis/endometriosis), erik is dramatic but its okay he has an excuse, nausea, mentions of vomit but no actual vomiting, early 1900s appropriate period shame, blood and heavy bleeding, brief mention of reader not eating all day but it's only due to lack of appetite, reassurance, fluff!!!!, like TOOTH ROTTING sweetness!!!!

Words: 6.9k

Notes: this isn't what i originally planned to post today, but i have adenomyosis and when my periods come they come bad and the pain is making me feel very sorry for myself. and i did promise something soon. so this is just self indulgent fluff in the mean time.

the other thing i was writing will be entirely gender neutral, so people who do not at all identify with menstruation or just don't want to read about it will hopefully enjoy that when it's done!

DISCLAIMER - this is based off of my experiences with periods, which will not look like most because I have a gynaecologic condition. but if you do 100% relate to this, go see a doctor! like, yesterday!

The morning began like any other, with a restless night's sleep behind you. As you stirred awake, you found yourself alone in bed, but a smile crept across your face as you noticed the lingering warmth on the sheets beside you - a subtle reminder of a certain someone’s recent presence.

Succumbing to the lethargy that clung to your limbs, you reached for the nearest available outfit. The garments were wrinkled and well-worn, but they served their purpose of preserving your modesty. You slipped them on, grateful for the barrier they provided against the cool morning air, despite their less-than-pristine condition.

As you emerged from your bedroom, you stumbled, the door slamming shut behind you with an echoing thud. Your body felt leaden, each limb weighed down as if filled with concrete. Shafts of light piercing through the stone crevices assaulted your eyes, intensifying the dull throb that had begun to pulse at your temples.

"Erik?" your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. The name came out as a hoarse, groggy mumble, hardly recognizable even to your own ears.

Despite your feeble attempt at calling out, Erik appeared before you almost instantly, as if summoned by your whisper.

"Y/N! You're up," he said joyfully, his body adorned in one of his special going out outfits, "much earlier than usual, may I add. I was in the middle of preparing us a picnic before you have to go back up but-"

His gaze finally narrowed onto your hunched form, his previous relaxed expression shifting to one of concern. Your dishevelled appearance was evident - your hair in disarray, your eyes glazed over, bloodshot, and unfocused. It was clear that you were far from your usual self, and to put it lightly, appeared extremely unwell.

"What is the matter?" he asked. You hadn’t noticed it before, but the picnic basket he had been holding clattered to the stone floor, forgotten in an instant as his full attention focused on you.

As though his question was the trigger, a wave of nausea crashed over you. Your chest constricted, forcing you to hunch over even further. Your skin flushed hot in an instant, beads of sweat forming and quickly multiplying across your skin.

"Angel, what's wrong?" Erik's voice trembled, his words tumbling out in a rush. Had you been more lucid, you might have felt a pang of guilt for causing him such distress.

"I'm fine," you mumbled unconvincingly. His hand gently rested on your shoulder, and instantly your body betrayed you. The comforting touch seemed to signal to your system that it was safe to let go, and suddenly, you felt overwhelmed by a surge of nausea and dizziness.

A dull ache blossomed in your lower abdomen. Your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively pressed a hand against your stomach. The discomfort flooded your senses as your face contorted, a grimace etching itself across your features as you struggled to maintain composure.

Within moments, the discomfort escalated from a mild annoyance to an all-consuming agony that left you immobilized.

Shivers began to wrack your body. Your legs turned to lead, a numbing sensation creeping up from your toes. Simultaneously, a searing, deep-seated ache took root in your lower back.

If Erik was worried before, he was panicking now. His eyes widened with alarm, his breathing quickened, and his usually steady hands began to tremble visibly. The calm composure he typically maintained crumbled in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread and urgency.

Your legs buckled beneath you, your vision blurring as you felt yourself wilting towards the unforgiving stone floor. Erik sprang into action, his arms shooting out to catch you. The world spun as he scooped you up, your body limp in his grasp. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the sudden movement sent a jolt of agony through your core, the comfort of his embrace overshadowed by the searing pain that threatened to consume you.

With swift strides, Erik navigated the winding halls, cradling you protectively in his arms. He retraced your earlier path, arriving at the door you had just exited moments ago. With a forceful kick, he flung it open, revealing the familiar sight of your shared bedroom.

"I'm going to set you down onto the bed," he explained slowly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "I’ll be as careful as I can."

When he gently pulled back the blanket on your side of the bed, you felt a slight jostling. Your attention, however, was abruptly drawn by a sharp intake of breath, his gasp cutting through the silence of the room.

"Erik?" you mumbled weakly. Your words were abruptly cut off as another wave of pain tore through your abdomen, causing you to cry out involuntarily.

Once more, you felt yourself being moved, this time to Erik's side of the bed. Confusion clouded your mind - why the change? But as you weakly lifted your head, the reason became starkly clear.

"Oh god-" you gasped, your eyes widening in shock at the sight before you. The vivid crimson stain on your side of the bed was impossible to ignore, its stark contrast against the pale sheets making your stomach churn with a mix of embarrassment and dread.

“I need to go find Gerard, you need to be seen by a doctor,” he declared, voice urgent and desperate.

He finally lowered you onto the clean side of the bed, and your eyes instinctively sought his face. It was then you realised his mask was off, likely because he hadn't anticipated you waking so soon. Without the barrier, you could clearly see the stark pallor of his unmarked skin and the unmistakable fear etched across his features. His typically composed demeanour had given way to raw, unfiltered concern that was both touching and unsettling.

He turned to leave.

"Erik, wait," you gasped, your hand shooting out to grasp his arm. "The pain is... excruciating, I won't lie. But I don't think—"

Your words were cut short as another wave of agony crashed over you. A strangled whimper escaped your lips as you curled into yourself, your body trembling uncontrollably. The pain was all-consuming, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You clenched your eyes shut, willing the torment to pass, knowing all you could do was endure until it subsided.

"Where's the pain? Can you pinpoint where you're bleeding from?" his eyes darted across your form, taking in your dulled complexion and the sheen of sweat on your skin. "You're burning up. Do you have a fever?"

His questions came in rapid succession, but his touch remained gentle as he brushed your damp hair away from your forehead.

"I... um..." you hesitated, struggling to articulate through the pain. The situation presented a dilemma: discussing such a private matter with a man felt improper, yet the severity of your discomfort and the alarming amount of blood made it impossible to simply dismiss. You found yourself caught.

Another intense surge of pain rose in your stomach, but this one more overwhelming than the last. Your ability to speak fully vanished as your eyes clenched shut. Soft whimpers escalated into frantic, muffled cries as the relentless throbbing in your lower abdomen intensified, twisting your nerves and leaving you gasping for breath.

"Angel, please, tell me what’s going on," Erik pleaded, tenderly taking your hand in his. The desperation in his eyes was palpable as he watched you struggle to form words. “I really believe you need a doctor, please just let me-”

"No, please," you winced, your voice barely audible through gritted teeth. The words came out strained, a mixture of pain and embarrassment colouring your tone. "It's... it's not something I can easily explain," you paused, taking a shaky breath before adding, "it's rather private."

"Private?" he echoed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Forgive my being impolite, but you are currently writhing in agony and bleeding profusely- how on Earth is that private!?"

"Erik," you implored, your eyes silently conveying your discomfort with the subject. However, his concern for your well-being trumped any social niceties. Undeterred by your unspoken plea, he persisted with his questions, determined to understand and help.

"If you explain what's happening, I might be able to help," he insisted. You gave him a sceptical look, but he pressed on, "my years in isolation weren't idle, I've acquired a vast array of knowledge from the countless books that have kept me company."

"It's just not appropriate for me to discuss this with you!" you cried in refute, your voice strained with both pain and embarrassment. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, your tone came out sharper than intended.

You silently prayed he would forgive you, considering the fact that you were enduring mind-boggling amounts of pain. Not only that, the fact you could distinctly feel the familiar warm leakage of blood trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets below was driving you utterly insane.

Shame coursed through you as your eyes fell upon the stark evidence of your debilitating pain staining the otherwise white sheets. Averting your gaze, you felt utterly exposed and vulnerable. An overwhelming desire to shield yourself from Erik's concerned stare gripped you, making you wish you could simply disappear.

However, your discomfort eased as Erik's touch changed. His firm grip on your hand softened, his fingers now tracing gentle patterns on your skin. Despite the worry in his eyes, you sensed his effort to stay calm for your sake.

Your heart tugged in your chest at the realisation.

"Y/N," he began, his voice tender yet hesitant as he tried to hold himself together. His gaze locked onto yours as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Please, put your shame aside for one moment and let me in- if only so that I can help you. It kills me to see you like this."

His ignorance of the situation was evident in the way his chest heaved and how he chewed the inside of his cheek with a vengeance. It was clear he believed you were in grave danger. You knew you needed to say something to ease his mind, even if it went against everything your instincts were telling you to do.

"Oh," you breathed, wincing as another wave of pain crashed over you. "It's... it's a delicate matter. Not something typically discussed in polite company."

"Do I look like polite company to you?" Erik's sarcastic retort was accompanied by a growing urgency in his previously calm ministrations. His eyes started to dart frantically between the blood staining your skin and your tired, visibly distressed face.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for Erik's potential upset. Despite your fears of his disgust or anger, of him calling you dirty or telling you to leave until you return to normal, a small part of you hoped he might be more understanding than expected. It was this glimmer of optimism that gave you the courage to finally speak.

"Erik," you began hesitantly, "are you familiar with the concept of... menstruation?"

The prolonged silence following your question spoke volumes. When Erik finally shook his head, it only confirmed what you had already suspected.

"Well," you began hesitantly, searching for the right words, "it's a process that occurs in people with uteruses. It involves bleeding and a lot of pain, typically happening monthly for one week out of the month. I don't really know much about the biological reasons behind it, but-"

Your explanation was abruptly halted as another shock of excruciating pain engulfed you. Erik, sensing your distress, quickly offered his hand. You latched onto it, your grip surprisingly fierce. As the agony intensified, your body convulsed against the sheets, and muffled sobs escaped your lips. You desperately willed the torment to stop, but it seemed endless despite your determination to endure.

"Fuck!"

Erik looked taken aback by your cussing, but seeing as you were squeezing his hand so hard he felt like your aim was to tear it off, he didn't focus on it too much.

Eventually, the pain faded back to its baseline ache - which was still extremely unpleasant, but manageable.

"I apologize," you coughed through your tears, your voice strained as you brushed away the beads of sweat trickling down your forehead.

"There's no need to apologize," he reassured, his voice filled with compassion. "I'm deeply concerned for your wellbeing, but I trust your understanding of this situation. If you say it's not life-threatening, I will trust you."

“Yeah, I'm definitely in no life threatening danger," you assured him, "but the pain is so intense, it almost feels like I am."

"It hurts so badly," you whimpered, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. "Ever since I was young, I've had to live with such excruciating pain and such heavy bleeding that I can barely function or even leave my bed. It's so exhausting and I've lost count of the times I've passed out on dirty floors, lying in my own vomit because of this."

"I know, I know," he murmured, not truly understanding and internally slightly horrified but wanting to comfort you regardless. He gently wiped away your tears as they fell, his touch tender and reassuring.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "This is terribly embarrassing. You shouldn't have to witness this. You tried to regain composure, but the combination of physical discomfort and emotional vulnerability made it impossible to stem the tide of tears.

Suddenly, Erik began to move. Your attention was so focused on the hurricane of emotions swirling around your body that you barely noticed him shifting to your side of the bed. It wasn't until he began to lower himself onto the mattress beside you that panic set in, causing you to react instinctively.

"No, wait!" you exclaimed, your sudden outburst causing him to recoil in surprise. Realizing your tone, you softened your voice. "I'm sorry, but please don't sit there. I... I don't want you to get dirty."

"Dirty?" Erik repeated, his eyes flickering to the stain beneath him. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "It's just blood, I mean really- it's not like I haven't been covered in my own fair share of the stuff. This small spot is hardly cause for concern."

"Erik, please, it's not just blood!" you insisted, the shame taking over as you looked at the spot where you'd bled. It didn’t help that you were in too much pain and felt far too weak to even do anything about it!

He raised an eyebrow at you. "How can it be 'not just blood'? Does your blood contain arsenic?"

You couldn’t help but groan at his sarcastic retort.

"Menstrual blood comes from a person's private areas," you grumbled, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you tried to convey the gravity of the situation.

He paused for a moment, then replied, "well, that certainly wasn't the answer I expected, but it doesn't change my opinion. Blood is blood, no matter where it comes from. Besides, fabric—and people—can always be washed. You don't need to be moving around for the sake of preserving meaningless things, you need to rest."

"But!-"

"Now that that's settled..." he shrugged off the jacket he’d been wearing and eased himself onto the mattress, inching closer to your awestruck form.

You were utterly speechless. He just- and then he- and he said-

"May I hold you? I won't if it causes you pain," he asked, his voice earnest and gentle. His tender concern only added to your bewildered state.

Words failed you as Erik gently pulled you into his embrace. The warmth of his body enveloped you, offering a comfort you didn't realize you so desperately craved. Despite the momentary twinge in your abdomen as he carefully adjusted your position, you found yourself melting into his arms. In that moment, his presence was a bandage to your pain-wracked body and troubled mind.

"Is this position comfortable?" He inquired. His arm gently supported the back of your neck, while his other hand rested lightly on your upper arm, providing a comforting presence without applying pressure. You managed a small nod in response, grateful for his attentiveness.

"Good. Now, where does it hurt?"

As his hand began to drift lower, more particularly towards your thighs, you suddenly realized the direction his thoughts were taking. Your eyes widened in a mix of surprise and mild alarm.

"Wait, not there!" you exclaimed, immediately regretting your sudden outburst as a fresh wave of pain surged through you. You winced, silently chastising yourself for your impulsive reaction.

"Oh. My deepest apologies," Erik said, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he blinked sheepishly. "I wouldn't have touched you anywhere without permission, but when you mentioned the blood's origin, I assumed—well, I thought—"

"Yeah, I know what you thought," you laughed breathlessly, wincing as another flash of pain assaulted your insides. "But contrary to your guess, the pain is mainly in my lower abdomen. Still, I appreciate your... eagerness to help."

His hand, which had been hovering uncertainly, now settled gently on your stomach. The warmth of his palm seeped through your skin as he watched your face intently, searching for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he took your relaxed expression as silent permission and began to move his hand in slow, soothing circles.

Your mind went blank.

The warmth of his hand on your stomach felt heavenly. The sensation was unlike anything you'd experienced before. While it didn't eliminate the pain by any means, it soothed the intensity more than you thought anything ever could. As his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin, you felt your entire body relaxing, tension melting away with each careful movement.

Your tears, once born of shame and torment, now flowed from sheer relief.

"Thank you," you sniffled, peace washing over you whilst your body finally began to relax. As your muscles slowly unclenched, the bed beneath you seemed to transform, becoming a soft, inviting cloud that cradled your aching form.

Erik could sense your growing ease just from the shift in your demeanour. He was well aware that the mattress and bed sheets were likely ruined, but your comfort and rest took precedence over any stains—especially ones that no one else would ever lay eyes on. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t always procure new clothes for you if your current ones were beyond saving.

"Rest now, angel," he murmured softly, his hand continuing its soothing motions. "I'll be here when you wake up."

As you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, Erik decided it was probably time to delve into those medical journals he'd long avoided.

What? He just preferred reading fiction, that's all.

As evening fell, you stirred from your sleep, immediately noticing the emptiness beside you. Your hand brushed against the cool sheets where Erik had been, confirming your suspicion—he had left your side some time ago. Disappointment creased your brow as you pondered his whereabouts.

You laid motionless on the mattress, your gaze fixed on the spot where Erik had been before you drifted off. The pain in your lower abdomen persisted, but it had noticeably diminished compared to earlier. Your skin felt clammy, and your throat parched, yet overall, you felt surprisingly okay.

"You're awake," a familiar voice called from the corner of the room.

Your frown melted away as you realized he hadn't left at all. True to his word, Erik had simply shifted to the corner of the room, maintaining his vigilant watch over you.

"It's 7:30 PM, which is quite an unusual time to start your day, don't you think?" he teased. You sat up, observing him sitting comfortably in the chair you two kept in the room for convenience's sake.

This time, he wore his mask, unlike earlier when you had awoken. Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the enormous tome in his hands—the bulkiest book you'd ever laid eyes on. Curiosity piqued, you gestured silently toward the literary behemoth he cradled, wordlessly urging him to elaborate on the book in his grasp.

"I know—this is definitely a hefty one. Thank god for chapter indexes," he remarked, weighing the book in his hands. "However, I must say, its contents are appallingly lacking in knowledge."

"How so?" you prompted.

"Well, this is supposed to be a medical journal, and yet, when I look for information on menstruation, it's woefully inadequate," he scoffed. "It merely states that menstruation is linked to the reproductive cycle and helps the uterus prepare for potential pregnancy. That's all."

"Well, that's still more than I knew before," you said with a shrug.

"It's obscene. I read in another book that it happens to half the population from around ages 16 to 50, and yet so many people have gone their whole lives not knowing why?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "And I thought science had come much further than that."

“You read another book? How many of these have you read?” you asked, astonished by his dedication.

“Oh, just whatever I had lying around. A couple dozen or so,” he replied, as if everyone just had dozens of books on medical knowledge floating around their abode. “But some of them were so old they attributed menstruation to miasma, so I didn’t pay much attention to those. And I also busied myself with books on herbal remedies and pain relief- apparently there’s this new medicine called Aspirin on the market? Exciting, but I can’t get a hold of that right now, unfortunately.”

As he rose from the chair, you noticed the stacks of books surrounding his feet. He hadn't exaggerated when he mentioned "a dozen or so" - they were all massive, thicker than any you'd ever seen! You racked your brain, trying to recall where in the cellars he might have been concealing these enormous volumes, but you couldn't remember ever spotting them before.

"I may be mistaken, but you seem to be feeling better than you did this morning," he observed, neatly arranging the books into orderly stacks rather than leaving them scattered haphazardly.

"Definitely," you nodded. "The pain is still present, but it's significantly less intense now."

"That's good," he replied, humming as he pushed his first pile to the side to work on the next. "You did give me quite a fright earlier. I thought... Well, I'm not sure what I thought."

"It's understandable. I mean, I'm not sure why, but I expected you to have some... slight awareness of the subject," you admitted, awkwardly averting your gaze.

Even though you knew Erik wasn't raised with the same rules and expectations as you, discussing menstruation still felt like breaching a taboo. The topic remained uncomfortable, despite your rational understanding that it shouldn't be.

"I do feel quite foolish for not being aware of it sooner. But then again, how many women do you think I've encountered in my life? Besides my mother, the answer is none. And even that meeting was brief," he said matter-of-factly.

You didn't really know how to respond to that, so you let a comfortable silence settle between you. Erik swiftly finished organizing his books, then hurried out to return them to their proper places. He reappeared within moments.

"Now, unless there are other aspects of your anatomy I should be aware of," he said with a hint of amusement, "I believe a bath is in order." His eyes darted meaningfully towards the bed, drawing your attention to the mess you had somehow overlooked. You were mortified as you realized the extent of the stains, which had spread far beyond where you'd expected, creating abstract patterns on the once-pristine sheets.

"Ugh, yes," you grimaced, suddenly noticing the uncomfortable layer of blood on your skin. "A bath is definitely overdue. But what about you? Have you had a chance to clean up?"

"You've been out for eleven hours. I bathed ages ago," he stated. "Just give me half an hour or so to boil some water for the bath. That way, you won't be freezing in there."

While you appreciated Erik's thoughtfulness, the sensation of dried, itchy filth on your skin was unbearable. The prospect of waiting even a moment longer to cleanse yourself seemed more daunting than enduring the bite of cold water.

"Don’t bother," you cringed, "I can't bear this feeling any longer. I need to wash off immediately, even if the water's cold. The discomfort of icy water is preferable to this... filth."

“Have some patience. It’s the late evening in a cellar right next to a lake, you’ll die from cold exposure,” he deadpanned.

Though you understood the logic behind his words, you couldn't suppress a playful pout. Erik's eyes rolled with amusement as he approached you on the bed. Leaning over, he tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead, the gentle gesture melting away your feigned disappointment.

"Are you sure you're not in too much pain right now? Tomorrow I'll ask Gerard to procure some herbs, but until then I have a few remedies I can try with items lying around," he asked, straightening up to look down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"It's bearable," you affirmed.

"Good," he said, moving towards the door. "Stay here while I set up the bath. If you need anything, just call for me."

“Trust me, I won’t be going far anytime soon.”

Thirty minutes later, Erik returned as promised. During the wait, you occupied yourself with daydreams and silent lamentations about your bodily predicament. You couldn’t help but be stuck on the thought that you’d be stuck like this until you were 50—you weren't even halfway through!

"Can you walk alright?" he asked, concerned about you putting any unnecessary strain on your body.

After considering your current condition, you replied, "I think I could manage, but would you mind carrying me to the bathroom anyway? I've heard blood leaves quite stubborn stains on stone."

Wordlessly, he obliged, gently cradling you in his arms. One arm supported your back while the other nestled beneath your knees. As he carefully lifted you, his eyes fell upon the crimson stain left behind. The sight of such copious bleeding caused a flicker of concern to cross his face, though he tried to conceal it.

You were supposed to bleed that much every month for a week straight without dying?

Pushing aside his alarming thoughts about your potential demise, he carried you carefully to the bathroom, his movements slow and deliberate. As he cradled you, you realized this level of attentiveness was something you could easily grow accustomed to. You made a mental note that future menstrual cycles would be spent here in the cellars, rather than hiding from him in the Opera Populaire as you'd done before.

"Thank you for today," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. As you spoke, you instinctively burrowed closer, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

He let out a low chuckle, tinged with self-deprecation. "Thank you? I've barely done anything noteworthy," he scoffed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. You couldn't see his expression, but you sensed the frown in his words. "To be honest, I feel rather inadequate. I wish I could have been more helpful to you in this situation."

"Don't say that," you insisted, nudging his chest with your head in retaliation. "You've gone above and beyond what most people would do. You've read dozens of books today just to understand me better. You've prepared a bath for me and prioritized my rest over your bedding. Most men would have either shooed me away or fled in your position."

A door creaked open, plunging you into momentary darkness as Erik gently lowered you to your feet. Your voice softened with emotion as you whispered, "your kindness and attentiveness mean more to me than words can express."

The gas valve hissed softly as it turned, gradually illuminating the bathroom. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you noticed a plush black towel draped over the edge of the tub, ready for use. On a nearby rack hung a set of fresh clothes—their style unmistakably reminiscent of Erik's wardrobe—waiting patiently for you to don them after your bath.

He cleared his throat loudly, a gesture you'd come to recognise as his way of masking his flustered state. "It's nothing extraordinary," he mumbled, his voice tinged with a mix of modesty and discomfort at the praise, "just basic human decency."

“But-“

"Is there anything else you need before I go to clean up?" he abruptly asked.

You sighed, giving him a pointed look for interrupting you. Deciding to let it go, you allowed the shift in conversation.

"I can manage from here, thank you," you hummed. "But would you mind fetching my sanitary belt from my bag? I'll need it after the bath."

“Sanitary belt?”

"Yeah. It's a belt that wraps around your waist and holds a sanitary towel in place to collect the, um, blood," you explained, awkwardly gesturing with your hands to illustrate. "You'll recognize it when you see it."

With a tender kiss on your forehead, Erik departed, promising to return with what you need.

The moment he left, you wasted no time shedding your clothes and depositing them in the nearby basket. Eager for relief, you eased yourself into the bathtub, a contented sigh escaping your lips as the pleasantly warm water enveloped you. The soothing heat melted away any lingering discomfort, allowing you to immerse yourself fully in the task of cleansing. With meticulous care, you began to wash away the day's troubles, savouring the unexpected comfort the bath provided.

He returned shortly after, placing the belt on the rack alongside your other necessities. Once again, he inquired about your well-being, prompting you to playfully scold him for his constant concern. Nevertheless, you reassured him that you were fine, adding that the warm bath water provided more pain relief than you had anticipated.

He seemed on the verge of making a sarcastic comment—likely along the lines of "I told you so"—but thought better of it. Bidding you a final goodbye, he left to strip and prepare the bed, allowing you to finish cleaning up in peace.

You continued this until the water was doing you more of a disservice than it was cleansing you. Pulling the drain cover open, you allowed the dirty water to flow out and empty the tub. Silently, you thanked Erik for installing this modern convenience in his home—one of the few upgrades he'd chosen, despite his ability to afford many more.

A chill crept over your damp skin, urging you to hasten your routine. Goosebumps prickled across your body as you quickly patted yourself dry with the towel, appreciating how he'd made sure it was black and not white. You then clumsily secured the sanitary belt around your waist, wincing at its familiar discomfort.

Immediately after, you slipped into the night shirt he had provided. The loose-fitting trousers were a blessing, their gentle embrace and soft material accommodating your tender midsection without adding pressure. Once you finished dressing, a sense of satisfaction gleamed in your chest. You felt refreshed, clean, and rejuvenated.

You made sure to brush your teeth before finishing up in the bathroom, when the horrific cramps returned once again. Doubled over and jaw clenched, you shuffled towards the door with painstaking slowness. Your quivering hand fumbled with the gas valve, finally managing to shut off the light. The room plunged into darkness as you walked out, door falling shut behind.

Groaning softly, you shuffled back towards the bedroom, where you found Erik fluffing the pillows on your freshly made bed. He wore his night attire, and despite your discomfort, you couldn't suppress a smile. Even doubled over in pain, the sight of him warmed your heart.

He swiftly noticed your presence, helping you onto the bed to spare you the effort of weakly propping yourself up. He then approached the dresser, where a mysterious lump lay concealed beneath blankets. Unfolding the coverings, he placed his hand on the hidden object and nodded with satisfaction.

He refolded the blankets over it before walking over to you. Curious and confused, you tried to maintain an inquisitive look while fighting off the storm raging in your abdomen.

"I anticipated the pain would return once you started moving again," he said, gesturing for you to lift your shirt to reveal your belly. You complied, though your confusion deepened. "This is called a 'hot water bottle,’ a recent invention. Gerard suggested I try one to ease some discomfort from my... condition. It doesn't help me much, but it might work for you."

"How does it work?" you asked, flinching slightly as the bottle touched your skin.

"It's made of rubber and filled with hot water to transfer heat efficiently," he explained, helping you pull your shirt back down over the bottle to keep it pressed against your skin. "Since you mentioned the warm water helped, I thought this might be worth trying."

"So it's like a hot water pig, but made of rubber instead of stoneware and more convenient?" you hummed thoughtfully, resting your hands over the bottle for an extra layer of added security.

“Precisely,” he nodded.

As the warmth from the hot water bottle gradually permeated the blankets, you found it soothing but not quite potent enough to fully alleviate your discomfort. The heat offered a welcome respite, yet you yearned for more intense relief from the persistent ache.

"It does take the edge off the pain," you admitted, biting your lip pensively, "but would it be possible to remove the blanket? I think more intense heat might help even more."

"Absolutely not," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Direct contact with the bottle could result in burns. The blanket stays."

After a moment's consideration, you decided that the risk of burns did indeed outweigh the potential relief from your cramps—at least for now. You nodded, opting to keep the blanket wrapped around the water bottle, appreciating its safer warmth.

A sense of contentment washed over you as you marvelled at how this day, which had started so unexpectedly, had blossomed into something truly special.

You were with the love of your life, freshly bathed and dressed in his clothes, tucked into a clean bed with a soothing hot water bottle warming your skin and fighting against what usually was traumatic levels of pain. Tears welled in your eyes as pure bliss coursed through your veins, overwhelming you before you could even process the feeling.

As the first tear rolled down your cheek, Erik instinctively sprang into action. You couldn't help but laugh through your cascading tears, raising your hands to signal him to relax. Though hesitant, he wordlessly complied with your wishes.

"I'm okay," you sniffled, your words punctuated by small sobs. "I don't know why I'm crying. I'm just so... happy. I think I'm really, truly happy."

His eyes widened behind the mask, a mixture of surprise and awe flashing across the few of his visible features. Unable to resist, you reached up, gently grasping his hand and guiding him to lay beside you on the bed. He remained motionless, seemingly caught between disbelief and anticipation. Your heart racing, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a tender, affectionate kiss that conveyed all the emotions words couldn't quite express.

Wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your night shirt, you clutched the water bottle tighter and rolled onto your side. You nestled into his chest, his arm instinctively wrapping around you as you melded into his trembling form. Yearning for closeness, you draped your leg over his hips, your body seeking every possible point of contact.

"But—" He stammered, shaking his head in disbelief. Bewilderment dripped from his voice as he continued, "You haven't eaten all day. Surely, I should prepare something for you—"

"No," you replied, your tone firm yet affectionate.

"You must-"

"Nuh-uh," you teased.

"Really I should-"

"Shh." You leaned closer, your faces mere inches apart as you rested an arm over his waist. He tensed at the contact, despite the familiar porcelain barrier between you. "Just stay with me like this for a little while, please? Afterward, you can make all the cold meat sandwiches your heart desires."

"You told me you liked those," he grumbled in playful accusation.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as your eyes shimmered with unbridled affection. If Erik were to meet your gaze, all he'd be able to see was the pure, unadulterated euphoria radiating from your smile.

"I do," you agreed with a nod, “but only because you make them with so much love."

"So, you don't?"

You hummed thoughtfully, tilting your head back as if deeply pondering the culinary merits of cold meat sandwiches. "They're good, but they could use a little something extra," you mused. "Maybe some cucumber for crunch? Or a slice of mozzarella for creaminess?"

He scoffed in mock offence, "That completely distracts from the flavour of the meat."

"Flavour?"

"I'm glad you agree."

You pursed your lips before releasing a long, deliberate sigh. Your eyes flicked from his face to the clock. The time read 9:45 PM, yet an unwelcome wakefulness clung to you—undoubtedly a lingering consequence of your excessive eleven-hour nap.

"I’ve completely ruined my sleep schedule, haven’t I?" you mumbled. "It’s late in the evening, and I’m nowhere near tired.”

Erik paused thoughtfully before replying, "I can make you something to aid with sleep, if you'd like."

"What do you have in mind?" you asked, curiosity evident in your tone.

He thought over the matter before deciding.

"I have some dried valerian root that I can steep into a tea," he offered. "I've tried it on rare occasions. It's quite bitter, but I can add some chamomile to sweeten the taste."

"You're so lovely," you giggled, unaware of how he tensed at the compliment. "So kind and thoughtful—you call me an angel, but I think the real angel here is you. My Angel."

He paused, visibly stunned by your words.

His voice was soft and hesitant as he asked, "you believe that?"

You nodded, a soft hum of agreement escaping your lips. "I do," you said sweetly, your voice brimming with unwavering certainty.

You felt the rise and fall of his chest as he took a deep breath, seemingly trying to steady his racing heartbeat. His hold tightened around you, drawing you even closer. A radiant smile spread across your face.

"So," he stammered, clearly flustered by the compliment, "is that a yes to the tea?"

"I'd love some tea," you nodded eagerly. "But could you stay with me for ten more minutes first?"

He nodded, and you both settled into a comfortable silence—a respite he seemed to appreciate. Your fingers traced idle patterns on his palm, while his gently wove through your hair.

Ten minutes passed in this tranquil state, and you quickly realised that maybe the tea was unnecessary after all. Every thirty seconds or so, you found yourself stifling an uncontrollable yawn—a gesture you noticed Erik unconsciously mirroring.

Your eyelids grew heavy, the combined warmth of his body and the water bottle proving irresistible. You drifted toward sleep at least five times, always jolting awake at the last moment before you fully succumbed. Despite your drowsiness, you yearned to savour this moment just a little longer.

"Do you still want that tea?" Erik asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You shook your head and nestled closer to his chest. "I'm fine now," you murmured contentedly.

"Good," he replied, his hand gently smoothing down your flyaway hairs. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but fatigue clouded his thoughts, and he let the moment pass.

He yawned once more, momentarily pulling away from you. You whined in protest, but he shushed you as he reached behind his head to untie his mask. Attempting to place it carefully on the bedside table, he misjudged the distance, and it slipped towards the floor.

The mask remained intact, though the sound it emitted was sharp enough to make you flinch. To your astonishment, Erik seemed unconcerned by the possible harm. Instead, he calmly readjusted your position so you were laying as before, then closed his eyes. A surge of emotion swelled in your chest.

Erik had grown comfortable with you seeing him without his mask, though he typically preferred to keep it on unless taken by surprise or during the quiet hours of the night when you were both sleeping. His current indifference toward the mask could mean one of two things: either he was too exhausted to notice its near demise, or he had become so deeply at ease with you that he no longer felt the need to shield himself behind it.

Erik possessed other masks, but they could never replace his favourite. His primary one was treated with the utmost reverence, as fragile and irreplaceable as a feather. It was the one he felt most secure in and allowed him the most normalcy, therefore it was always his first choice regardless of other options. Yet now, without hesitation or concern, he had allowed it to fall away, as though its significance had vanished entirely, as if the bond between you had rendered it unnecessary.

You felt the urge to cry again, but not wanting to disturb his sleep, you suppressed your tears as you contemplated the significance of this moment for both of you.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. Though it could be mistaken for tiredness, the tremor in your words betrayed your overwhelming desire to burst into tears of joy.

After a moment, one bleary eye opened as he turned to face you. His lips curved into a genuine smile as he whispered, "I love you too."

'hot water pigs' are what people used to call hot water bottles, or at least their versions of them, just so you know lol. writing these fics always requires so much research into old terms and the existence of things that are now regular everyday items, it's kind of crazy. like trying to figure out how much was known about periods in the late 1800s early 1900s was a challenge.

#phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera musical #phantom of the opera x reader #erik destler x reader #cherik #erik the phantom #erik destler #gaston leroux #poto #musical #1990 phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera 1990 #poto 1990 #poto x reader #cherik poto

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siolixz · 3 months ago

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ღ Of Love and Loyaltyღ

+18

Part 2

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have developed a relationship of sorts and she changed based on everything around her.

Reader is a young girl infatuated with a man decades older than her- who is also very dangerous and powerful (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 pls take everything with a grain of salt. Oz's mom is actually dead in this story. I will write a third and final part to this after the last episode. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting 100%.

Enjoy, give some feedback if you want. (>‿◠)✌

Warnings: violence, age-gap relationship, smut(¬‿¬)

You finally made something of yourself. Sure it was all blood money, but you did- you did what you had to do to survive and not only that, to thrive.

Before leaving he told you to get in the car while he talked to Sofia outside, when you got back he was on his knees- a gun pointed at his face. You acted on impulse and drove the car into one of the guys there; best thing you could’ve done at the moment he told you.

You would think that planning to escape would distance you from him but it did the opposite- even after wrecking his car, that poor gorgeous car; you’ve never been in one as fancy before- let alone drive it.

“I’m so-sorry about your car.” you said as you stared at it in flames.

“Yeah- what're ya gonna do 'bout it- only the good die young.” he came closer to you and grabbed the back of your head- forcing you to look at him. “Don’t be sad about it- you’re worth a thousand more to me.”

He told you that you two were “really in it now”- and he couldn’t have been more right about that.

He got the Bliss operation back from the Maroni family by burning the mother and the heir apparent to their family- together. His brutality frightened you but If he wanted to rule the mob- he had to be brutal and unwavering in his choices, at least that’s what you told yourself to justify what he had done. Now not only Sofia Gigante was after you, but also Sal Maroni.

In the weeks following you had your own operation- underground, in a sewer system that connected you to all of Gotham, you became Oz’s eyes and ears above ground, traveling on your motorcycle- giving him news about the world above and delivering his money directly in his hands. He had given you your own gun—"just in case someone messes with you"—though you never ended up using it.

Oz trusted you, even after your attempt at an escape- he moved you two to an apartment on the East Side, one that reminded you of your old one; without electricity but it did its job. In the apartment you got very close to him, you got to know him much better and you changed too in the meantime, you were more confident- more sure of yourself next to him.

He was all you had, the one person who made you feel like you were the center of his world. One night- he came "home" late, as he often did. You were already in bed, curled up and trying to stay warm when you felt the familiar weight of his body sinking into the mattress. He slid under the covers and pulled you close, and you sighed, finally feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"The people in charge really don’t give a fuck about us," you murmured, exhaustion lacing your voice. It was a tired frustration—being cold at work and now being cold at home. Winter was coming, and your mind drifted to families with children who needed warmth.

He took a deep breath. The long days weighed heavily on him; managing his people and the constant stress left him drained. Most nights, he would grab a bite, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, cold or not, he’d fall into a deep sleep. You’d take advantage of those moments, cuddling close and pulling his heavy arm over you. Oswald slept like a rock.

"I’ll do something about it," he said, his deep voice vibrating through you. In the weeks you’d been together, you’d learned how to speak to him, how to make him feel powerful—your man, your only one. He was the only man who had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t deny the rush you felt watching him command respect when he barked out orders to his men, a cigar perched between his lips. God, he was handsome. Your stomach would flutter every time you caught a glimpse of him, even if only for a second.

He was a towering presence, terrifying when he loomed over you, and seeing him angry was enough to scare you senseless. But it also sets your heart racing for other reasons too.

Before the club, his gaze never strayed from you; now, it was his hands that constantly sought you. He couldn't help himself when you were close, sometimes grabbing you in public like an eager kid in a candy shop. You learned that when he called you into his "office," it meant he was either seething with anger or burning with desire—either way, you knew he’d end up taking it out on you.

He’d told you more than once that he hadn’t felt this alive in years, and you could sense the shift in everything he did—from the way he spoke to the intensity in the way he fucked you. He had changed.

You told him about Squid- about how he came up to you today- asking you where you got your clothes- “what shit you got cooking” - Oz asked you if it was going to be a problem, you told him no; he could count on you- you won’t let him down.

“You know, I think you’re the only thing keeping me good, doll.” he traced circles on your arm. If you were keeping him good, what was Oz like when bad? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hands traveling under the blanket and beneath the sweater and t-shirt you had on and you proceeded to hiss once they made contact with your skin “your hands are so cold” you said and he chuckled.

The next day, you made true to your promise and met up with Squid- you had a plan, of course you did, you would give him some money and hope he would leave you alone.

Of course the dumb bastard declined the money- of course he tried to intimidate you to “bring him to the big man” or else he was gonna go to the Maronis or Falcones- maybe they would help him; the fuck was he thinking? That a small-time asshole like him could make a deal with Oz?

So many thoughts were running through your head, what if you did bring him to Oz? You didn’t want to bother him, he had enough stuff he had to worry about- plus the things Oz would do to him were too graphic to think about. What if you ran? No, he would catch you- probably beat the shit out of you too. Shit.

“Ok, I’ll take you to him.” you said as you were going down the steps, him following. Fuck-fuck you had to shoot him, this motherfucker was going to ruin whatever you had going on.

You had to shoot him, no other time better than now- your pistol was in the front of your jeans. Do it now. You grabbed your gun from your pants and before you knew it, you turned around and pulled the trigger.

When you opened your eyes, Squid was gripping his throat- blood was coming out in buckets- he stared at you and your shocked face. Neither of you believing what you just did. Your breathing was becoming heavier and heavier- almost gasping for breath- you just shot someone- he was going to die.

Oh god, he was dying. You watched as the light drained from his eyes and you didn’t want to stick around to see him pass so you ran- you ran to your motorcycle and then you drove above the speed limit, probably breaking a few laws too until you got underground.

He was probably dead by now- you just killed him. You never realized that you were crying as well; you ran to his office and thanked the lord that no one was around to see you.

You opened the door and there he was, wearing a well tailored shirt and a vest- writing something down- money next to him. He quickly looked up as he heard you come in and then dropped his head down to continue what he was writting “Well look who decided to pay me a visit”, he muttered with a smirk; you tried to control your sobs and when he heard the shallow breath you took to steady yourself- he looked up again “The fuck happened?” he immediately got up and went towards you.

You told him what happened between sobs as he held you on his lap, seated in his chair. You told him everything; about Squid- how he threatened to go to the Falcones or the Maronis- how you knew you had no choice and while leaning back he told you that it will get easier, this isn’t the end of the world.

“You wanna know something?” He grabbed your face and made you look at him “You did what was right, you protected yourself, what you have. No one can take that from you- I’m proud of you.” Your sad demeanor was gone by now and replaced with the familiar warmth you had whenever he said something like this.

He kissed you and brought your body and embraced you “You’ve grown so much in these weeks, you’re no longer the kid that used to sneak around buildings-” you kissed him, bringing his lower lip between your lips. You wanted to forget- forget what happened and what you did- he always made you forget all your worries, you only ever thought about him when you were in his presence. He put his arm beneath both of your legs as you were sitting and you almost yelped when he got you on his desk.

“Oz-” Ok, maybe getting him started wasn’t the best idea, whenever you got him going he would forget about the windows in his office or the fact that someone might hear you.

You tried to bring one of your legs between the two of you, trying to stop him “-Oz, when we are home” you tried to reason with the man, even if getting fucked in his office would turn you on in the worst ways and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wet already.

He loved the power he would hold over you- whenever he would manhandle you in any position he would like or whenever he would order you to do something- you couldn’t lie, you liked it too; sometimes he would have you suck his cock as he solved the men's pay, sometimes he would have you on all fours on his bed- Oz was a man that loved to be in control, to be number one- the best. You knew that.

He was already getting your jacket off, “Oz-” he grabbed the money from the table and placed it away from you two, before getting back to kissing and groping you.

He grabbed hold of your clothed pussy and from the feeling of his hand there- you raised your butt slightly up and pushed back into him.

This relationship that you two had, it made you feel like a woman- it was so different than the one you had with Robert, where it was just light touches on your face and small kisses- Oswald was a man, whenever he wanted you, he would have you and it made you feel as if you were wanted and desired- it made you feel alive.

He stopped and you knew someone was probably at the door. Shit- this is so embarrassing, you looked down and without making eye contact, went into the small room connecting to his office- he had a bed there, a small one; not big enough for two people to sleep comfortably but it was something. It was also way more warm in here than outside where everyone else was working.

You took your sweater off and sat on the bed, while listening to what he was saying to the guy that came in, something about the meeting he had and a surprise. You had to ask him about that, but after he was done with you.

Your heart was beating out of your ches- the door opened.

He looked at you and made small steps towards the bed, you were smiling while scooting back- with butterflies dancing in your stomach; wondering what he was gonna do next when he grabbed both of your legs and placed them on either side of him before joining you on the bed- on top of you.

One of his hands immediately went to your ass, giving him easier access to rubbing himself over you and the other one was supporting him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as your lips met his. Despite the darkness and heaviness of the moment, he still radiated a magnetic presence—full of charisma as ever, his scent enveloping you in a way that made everything else fade. From the sharpness of his aftershave to the depth of his cologne, he had it all. He started pushing himself even harder against you, where it was almost painful; you moaned in his mouth and against his tongue.

He raised himself on his knees on the bed, casting a shadow over you and ordered you to take your jeans off and get on all fours while he was taking his vest off and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your hands were shaking a little bit as you unbuttoned your pants and took them off.

After you obeyed him and raised your butt in the air, he grabbed hold of it- to angle you how he wanted; excitement so palpable you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, almost laughing. You felt him slowly enter you, giving you a few small moments to adjust to his size- you closed your eyes and moaned, you don’t think you’re ever gonna get enough of this man; all of him.

“Oh baby-” he was always so vocal during sex.

The feeling of him stretching you out and the feeling of him pushing himself in you in and out- whenever he would press himself back in, he brushed up against your g-spot- the sound of his body when it connected to yours was so loud- it made your cheeks burn- you were so wet and he didn’t even touch you all that much, like that night at the club. He had a gun under your chin and you were so wet, who even were you anymore?

You arched your back, consciously making yourself as pleasing as possible for him. The act itself sent a thrill through you, but it also made your cheeks flush with a mix of desire and shy uncertainty- the usual girlhood embarrassment that flushed your cheeks overtaking your body whenever he had you like this.

When he found his rhythm- while grabbing your waist and pushing you back into him, he’d shower you with praise. “You take me so well… you’re such a good girl—my good girl.” He knew exactly how to make your stomach flip with words like that—this old dog.

He pulled you back against him time and time again before you felt like it was almost painful, your moans of pleasure mixing with those of pain.

He pulled himself out and got on his back next to you, ”Come ‘ere” you giggled in excitement- he loved whenever you rode him.

You squatted over him- your legs on either side of his body and with one of your hands- you brought his cock between your legs and you watched closely as his stupid grin was wiped from his face when you lowered down on him, mouth open- you gave him a quick peck on his lips. Your legs were almost shaking and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead.

From this position you could feel him so deep inside- you started to grind yourself on him- it felt so good; you almost started crying again.

Oz grabbed your tits from underneath your shirt and was slowly pushing himself deeper in you “You’re my girl- I’m so proud-” he groaned as he said that, this mountain of a man- beneath you, between your thighs; you felt like you held the power “-I’m so proud of you.”

From this position you could feel him brushing against your clit, the feeling only making you go faster, the thrill of reaching your peak on him taking over “easy…easy” he repeated- obviously, you didn't listen.

You shifted the tempo, lifting yourself up before sliding back down, causing him to grimace. Without missing a beat, he pulled your upper body down, pressing you flush against him- you pressed your face against his shoulder and he grabbed it- holding it there; the cold feeling of his rings compared to how hot your face was giving you goosebumps.

You felt him adjust his legs and from this position he started to fuck you how he wanted to. He thrived on being in charge, practically reveled in the power it gave him. God, your throat was dry- you were sure you would be sore down there after you two were done.

You knew anyone walking by could 100% hear you at this point, you tried to be quiet but to no avail with this man. Oz seemed to like whenever people would stare at the two of you and it excited him to think anyone would be listening in.

You brought your face up when he slowed down and kissed him, putting your tongue in his mouth. This felt so amazing but you knew he probably had places he had to be. “Do I make you feel good baby?” you nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the right side of his face, right on the thick scar that ran from his mouth to his cheekbone.

He was a strikingly intimidating man, his features hardened by a life of danger. You slowly brought yourself down and up- trying to match his movements.

“You get so tight around me-” he placed his arm over you, bringing you as tight as he could on him.

One of your hands went under the pillow he had under his head and the other was gripping the side of the bed. His rhythm was becoming sloopy- switching between fucking you and kissing you, on your cheeks or on your mouth; he grabbed your ass in both of his hands, squeezing and pushing you down on him while he fucked you.

You looked in his eyes, the light from above casting a shadow over them that only added to his allure. “-I’m gonna cum” you nodded again- words escaping you “Tell me where-tell me” he closed his eyes- you knew he would start with that, the only way he finished was inside you.

Whether it was your mouth or your pussy. Oz loved when you would describe how he felt in you, how you loved when he would fuck you- how you wanted him to cum in you. It turned him on. It turned him on how embarrassed you would feel most of the time he made you say those things.

You told him you wanted it inside and It wasn’t long before he started his fast pace again and you closed your eyes, trying not to moan as loud as you would like- fuck he felt so good. It mustn't have been long before you felt him slow down and the familiar feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you. You had to drink some water- your throat was hurting. Oz hugged you close to him and while one of his hands was rubbing your back he kissed your forehead- “You feeling better?”.

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

Author's note: Bro you just fucked him AGAIN?

Finished there the story because I KNEW i would start writing a lot and I wanna finish part 2 in time for the finale. I'm sososos excited for it and sad it will end ugh. Anyways hope you enjoyed and thank you to all the people that wrote nice things to me regarding my writing, I've been having some health problems lately and your messages made me feel so much better, truly. Have a nice day :))))))

#oz cobb #the penguin #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oz cobb x reader #the penguin hbo #oswald cobblepot #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot

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lovewireds · 7 months ago

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been meaning to post my designs for these little guys forever. insane splatoon rambling under cut to explain design choices and lore related things ... read my autism boy

btw this is a repost from our art side blog this was written and drawn like months ago <- minorly rewrote some things tho

thx splatoon users drfreeman & drcoolatta for fueling my splatvrai autism brainrot ... i hate u /J

GORDON

idk how to explain this but Theoretical Physicist is inkling coded . maybe its cuz splatoon species social hierarchy

Native ink color is Orange, but he has Dark Brown tentacle roots.

Uses custom weapons to attach in place of his prosthetic; It works best with Splatlings but can be adjusted to attach other weapons.

If the thing above didn't make it obvious, he's a Splatling main. He switches out depending on his mood though.

sighhhhh technically an Agent... stares at the ceiling...Main character...

His arm loss is like pretty much the same as in-canon but it's with the octarian army shrugs. don't ask me why he doesn't just regenerate it cuz hes a squid thats for me to know and you to find out. (get partially sanitized loser)

Born & Raised in Inkopolis pre-splashtags; He wasn't informed of the switch to Splashtags being expected when participating in most activities around Inkadia.

TOMMY

I forgot why i made him an inkling why did i do that. I think it was bc i didnt wanna make them all octolings but i was wrong srry we all make mistakes /hj I ALREADY REDREW HIM ONCE IM NTO DOING IT AGAINNN

Native ink color is orange-brown.

His hat has an eye guard for sensory reasons; He covers up as much of his skin as possible because he doesn't like the feeling of foreign ink on him.

He isn't a specific weapon main, he just uses any long-range weapon to minimize the possibility of getting ink on himself. If he has enough guarding, he prefers to use N-ZAP '89.

Makes his own gear for sensory reasons as well :) It's legal when ur dad's the G-Man.

Exclusively plays in Turf Wars, Anarchy Battles, etc with friends. He hates playing with people he doesn't know.

Born in Splatsville !! He feels like a Splatsville resident. His occupation is resident I cannot imagine him doing Anything

His dad is that creepy curtain in one of flounder heights windows /j

BENR(E)Y

Octoling bc I wanted him to be sanitized :) Other than the visual part of being sanitized, I thought him being clinically dead fits /hj also lore reasons below

Pre-sanitization, his native ink color was blue.

Great Turf War veteran; He didn't do anything in the war itself, he was just enlisted lol. He was primarily security for the Octarian Domes in the years after the war. Yes, that also means he is over 100 years old.

"Raised" (debatably) in Octo Canyon.

E-liter main (4-star Base + 5-star Scope) and avid squidbagger. He also uses any heavyweight weapons (dynamo, tenta, etc)

Absolutely hates working at Grizzco, he only does Turf Wars and Anarchy Battles. He only works at Grizzco during Big Runs. The type of guy that does X battles.

Professional Anarchy / Ranked / X Battler btw. That's literally 90% of what he does.

Got on Gordon's azz over him not having a Splashtag; i wonder what that parallels.

BUBBY

Genuinely don't have a lot to say about his design. He gives off Splatoon 2 Octoling vibes (showoff /hj) also i wanted to make his hair wispy like it should be.

Native ink color is a light blue-gray gradient.

The drawing doesn't give it credit but I swear those are glasses not goggles .. they're opaque-colored slanted oval glasses !! ^_^ u can interpret them as spiked or just eyelashes, both are right.

oh also the text under bubby says "Is Best" in some splatoon font we downloaded awhile ago . i think it was ripped from splatnet

Blaster main. I don't know how to explain this one but it feels right.

helps with the practical Map props (ie ink rails) and with some weapon gear manufacturing ^_^ tech guy

COOMER

Was going to make him an Octoling for the convenience of making his hair curly but i didn't want to make all of them octolings + i think his personality generally fits Inklings more.

Native ink color is an off white gradient.

Slosher main cuz he likes moving his arms. this makes sense to me. Also is a fan of Splatlings and other Shooters.

i felt ill trying to design coomer without making his eyes two lines with eyelids

War Veteran...Stole some octarian tech and got fucked up super limbs. Cyber Inkling stealing from octos !! [inkadia crowd goes wild] /j

anyways outside of the war™ he's a data researcher. just generally. he does shit with splatfests and eggstra work.

If you splashed him with ink he would stand unmoving. He would not shake it off.

DARNOLD

Ok i'll be honest the Octoling choice is primarily bc Octolings have the afro style & inklings have no textured hair styles (i didnt have the energy to design smth that could work) . His personality fits octoling too though :3

Native ink color is red-orange.

The fucked up guy that makes those drink effects people never use ( i use them ... )

He doesn't participate in Turf Wars or Anarchy Battles, but he works some gigs at Grizzco for extra cash every once in awhile !

the type of guy that goes after flyfish cuz no one else will . god bles !!!

not a lot to say about his design & his place in inkadia , it kinda speak for itself . he just wants to get by and make his drinks in peace . #autism ... he is pretty much exactly the same as his canon self

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winchesterwild78 · 6 months ago

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The Hunter pt 1

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (together), Sam Winchester, Jodie Mills, Bobby Singer x Reader (Uncle/Niece)

Warnings: mention of death, small age gap, mutual pining, language, fluff

A/N: I’ve been working on getting some stories out and it’s driving me crazy. I’m turning this one into a series, probably short(ish), not 100% yet. This story came to me after starting Supernatural again. We all know how Dean feels about relationships, but let’s just pretend he finally gave in. 😀

This is my own work, please do not take it or copy it without my permission. It’s based on characters from Supernatural, but doesn’t follow the timeline completely. I wrote it fast and edited it fast. Please overlook any errors.

Minors DNI 18+

You had lived with your Uncle Bobby since his wife, Karen died. Your parents were hunters and were killed on a hunt not long after Karen died. Bobby didn’t want you to stay in a foster home, so he took you in. You were the daughter of his brother, so it only seemed right.

Living with Bobby was easy. He stayed out of your hair and you stayed out of his. You were almost 18 years old when you moved in, so he didn’t have too many rules. The rules he gave you were pretty easy to follow: Always carry your gun/knife with you, keep your cell phone on you at all times, home by midnight, and above all else stay the hell away from Dean Winchester.

You thought the last rule was hilarious. You of course knew who the Winchesters were. Their dad, John, had been on a few hunts with your parents. From what you knew Dean was about a year older than you and Sam was about 3 years younger. You hadn’t officially met them, so you weren’t sure why your Uncle Bobby had that specific rule.

On the eve of your 21st birthday you went out with some friends from work. Bobby was tough around the edges, but even before you moved in with him he always made your birthday special. He was there for every birthday you’d had.

When you arrived home from a night out you noticed a 1967 Impala in the driveway. It was gorgeous. As you approached the car you noticed it was well taken care of and you couldn’t help but stare. All black with black leather interior, and the backseat was pretty big too. You smiled at the thought of what kind of trouble you could get into in the backseat.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t see the man approaching you. “Like what you see sweetheart?” You jumped, startled at the voice. You looked up and saw a tall, broad, very handsome, green eyed man standing in front of you. “Oh, yeah. She’s beautiful. Is she yours?” “I wish, she’s my dad’s. Dean Winchester, and you are?” He extended his large hand towards you to shake your hand.

You slid your hand in his and felt his firm hands grip yours slightly, “Um, I’m Y/N, I’m Bobby’s niece. Nice to meet you Dean.” You shook his hand but an urge inside you made you want to pull him in that backseat and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

He smiled at you and took a step closer, “Oh, so you’re the birthday girl.” His breath brushed across your ear and neck as he whispered into your ear. A shiver went through your body. He smirked at the sight of it. You blushed and shook your head. “How did you know?” “Bobby had called dad about something he wanted to give you. We were in the area so we came in a day early. I think we’re crashing here tonight.”

Inside your head was screaming at you to kiss him and take him right there. Now you understand why Bobby had the rule about him. You’d known him less than 5 minutes and you were willing to jump in bed with him. Was he a witch?!

A few minutes later a taller man came out, and Dean introduced him as his baby brother, Sam. You smiled and shook his hand. He was sweet, and not as forward as Dean. This must be why Bobby didn’t have any rules about him, you laughed when you thought about it.

It was getting late so the three of you went back into the house. “Hey, Uncle Bobby, I’m back.” You announced as you walked in. Bobby came around the corner and hugged you. “Glad to hear it kiddo. Did you have a good time?” You shook your head yes.

There was another man standing next to Bobby. You extended your hand, “You must be Mr. Winchester. Uncle Bobby has told me so much about you and your boys.” You nodded in their direction. “Yes, you can call me John, and Bobby has told me so much about you too, Y/N. Glad he has someone around here to keep him out of trouble.” You both laughed as Bobby glared, “Idjit.”

The five of you sat in Bobby’s living room chatting and having a good time. It was late and you were tired. As you stood up Dean jumped up too. John and Bobby looked at him and then at each other. You smiled at Dean then turned to everyone. “Well gentlemen, I’m beat. I’m heading to bed. See you all tomorrow. Good night.” Everyone said good night as you climbed the stairs you took one more look at Dean who was watching you go. You smiled softly at him until he was out of sight.

“Don’t even think about it, Dean”, John practically growled. Dean looked at his father, jaw on the ground. “What are you talking about?” “Don’t play dumb with us boy, we saw how you looked at her. She’s still a kid, and you’re 22.” “I wasn’t thinking anything, besides 21 isn’t a kid anymore.” Bobby stood up and stepped closer, “Look here Dean, leave her be. She’s too sweet to get dragged around by you. We know how you are with the ladies.”

Dean was genuinely hurt by the insinuation he would purposely hurt you. Dean threw his hands up in defeat. “Whatever guys. I’m heading to bed. Bobby, are you okay with me crashing in the guestroom or do I need to sleep outside?” Bobby rolled his eyes and Dean walked up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs he saw the bathroom light on and the door cracked a bit. As he walked by he looked in and saw you brushing your teeth. He smiled because you looked rabid with all the toothpaste foam coming out of your mouth.

He walked to the guest room and started to dig out his stuff for bed. He usually slept in his boxers, but since you were there he was going to wear his sleep shorts. “Shit!” You heard coming from the room as you walked past. You knocked softly on the door. When the door opened you saw Dean standing there without his shirt on.

Your brain stopped working and you stood there blinking at him. It was like your eyes were snapping pictures for later. “Hey, sweetheart, you okay?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence between you two. “Um, yeah, are you okay? I heard you yell “shit” when I was walking by.” “Yeah, I just realized I forgot my sleep shorts.” He ran his fingers through his gorgeous light brown hair. “Oh, okay. Well maybe Uncle Bobby has something you could borrow.”

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, maybe.” “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Dean.” “Good night, sweetheart.” Your heart fluttered every time he called you that. You weren’t sure why, but a warmth also spread through your body. No! Uncle Bobby said absolutely no relationship with Dean! Stay away from him!

You walked away with a slight smirk on your face and a tinge of red on your cheeks. Dean watched you as you disappeared in your room. When he turned to head towards the bathroom Sam was standing there. “Dude, what are you doing? Dad and Bobby both said to stay away from her.” “I’m not doing anything, Sammy. She knocked on the door and we chatted. That was it.” “Uh huh, sure Dean. I know when you’re into a girl. Just please stay away from her. She’s too sweet to be hurt by you. Mister “I don’t do relationships.””

“Whatever Sammy. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” Dean went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and went back to the guest room. He was completely aware you were on the opposite side of the wall. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled in the bed.

Bobby always had the best mattresses and Dean loved staying there. As he layed in the bed he smiled at the thought of you and your rabid looking mouth while brushing your teeth, or the faint pink in your cheeks when you got embarrassed. He sighed deeply. He knew he wasn't good for you. Sam was right, he didn’t do relationships. He did one night stands and left a trail of broken hearts. He knew you deserved better.

You laid in your bed, your mind racing. He was a gorgeous man. One you could see yourself with. The only problem was Bobby. You loved your Uncle, and trusted him. If he said Dean was bad news, then maybe he was. When he touched you though, you felt it through your body. You couldn’t believe how your body responded to him when you saw him without his shirt. You weren’t a virgin, but damn you’d never been with anyone who looked like him. You stared at your ceiling wondering what he was doing on the other side of the wall, and what he was wearing in that big, lonely bed, all by himself. You shook your head trying to rid it of those thoughts and images.

Dammit you had to get those thoughts out of your head. They were staying a few days and you can’t drool over him the whole time he’s here. You rolled on your side and sighed. Sleep finally washed over you and you dreamed of Dean Winchester for the first time.

You woke up around 9am to the smell of coffee and bacon. You walked downstairs to see Bobby had put up a birthday banner and streamers in the kitchen. When you walked in you smiled. “Happy Birthday, kiddo!” Bobby walked over and hugged you, kissing the top of your head. “She’s not a kiddo anymore, Bobby. She can drink now.” John said as he gave you a side hug. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

You smiled and thanked them. Sam stood up and hugged you too, saying Happy birthday before he sat back down. Dean stood at the stove cooking and looked over at you. “Hey, birthday girl! Hope you’re hungry. I’m making bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast. There’s coffee too.” “Thanks, Dean. That’s so sweet of you.” You smiled and walked over to the stove, “Need any help?” “Nope, I’ve got it, you go sit down and relax.”

You nodded and smiled at Dean. He smiled back and bit his lip slightly. Sam, Bobby and John all exchanged looks. You sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. “So, what’s your plans today? Are you going out with your friends and boyfriend?” Bobby asked you. Dean’s head spun around at the mention of a boyfriend. “Nope, I hung out with my friends last night, and Alex and I broke up about a week ago. He was an ass, tried to force me into his backseat, so I broke his nose and kicked his ass.” Everyone laughed, “That’s my girl.” Bobby said proudly.

Dean let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding when you said you had broken up with your boyfriend. “I figured I’d spend the day with you guys.” You smiled over your coffee cup. “Breakfast is ready, ladies first.” Dean smiled as he handed you a plate. “Thanks Dean, this looks amazing.”

You grabbed a little of everything and sat down at the table. Everyone else grabbed a plate and as Dean was about to sit next to you, Bobby took the seat. Dean shook his head and sat across from you. Bobby kept glaring at Dean. You cleared your throat, “Dean, this is delicious. Thank you again for cooking breakfast.” You smiled at him. “You’re welcome sweetheart, anything for the birthday girl.” He smirked at you. John kicked him under the table and Bobby was staring daggers through him.

After you finished eating you stood up to put your plate in the sink. Dean instinctively stood too. Bobby and John looked at each other and then back at Dean. Dean sat back down. “Well guys, I’m going to go shower. I’ll be back in a little bit. Bobby stood up, “Okay, take your time.” He kissed your head and you left the room.

Before you got too far away you heard Bobby and John lay into Dean. “Dean, we told you to stay the hell away from her. What’s gotten into you? Telling her anything for her, standing when she stands. You’re acting like a lovesick teenager.” “Look Bobby, I know you love her and want to protect her, but seriously? Why do you hate the idea of me being with her? She’s 21 and I’m 22. It’s not that big of an age difference. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”

“Dean, I know you mean well, son, but you have a history of sleeping with women and leaving them. I don’t want that for her. She deserves better than that.” “Oh, now I get it, you think she deserves better than ME!” Dean growled. “Dean, that’s not what I meant.” Bobby said. “Well, you know what, maybe she does deserve better than me! Maybe all of you would be better off without me in your lives.” Dean yelled and slammed his fist on the table. You jumped and climbed the stairs.

Dean left the kitchen and walked upstairs to his room and slammed the door. You were still in your room getting stuff ready for your shower. You heard him in the room. He was mad and cursing Bobby and his dad. You walked out of your room towards the shower. You stopped outside his room and took a deep breath, then knocked.

“What?!” Dean yelled as he swung open the door. “Oh, sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize it was you.” “You looked at Dean and could see so much hurt in his green eyes. It broke your heart. “Dean, thank you again for making breakfast. That was really sweet of you.” Dean smiled, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” There it was again, “sweetheart”. It had your thighs clenching together.

You’re not sure what came over you, but a surge of courage ran through your body and you stepped closer to Dean. He stepped closer to you and put his hands on your waist. Your heart was racing, but you stepped closer and now your hot breath was mingling with his. His hand gently brushed your face and he cupped your cheek. You leaned forward, stopping halfway. Dean leaned the rest of the way and your lips lightly brushed against his. He pulled you closer and his lips captured yours. Moans left both of you as his hand traveled to your hair, pulling you closer.

Your hands instinctively went around his neck. Dean’s tongue ran across your lips asking for entrance. You parted your lips slightly and Dean’s tongue plunged in and fought your tongue for dominance. The kiss seemed to last for hours. Neither one of you wanted to pull away. Finally the need for air became overwhelming and you both parted. Pants filled the air as the two of you took in the needed air.

Your lips were on fire and you could feel the slick between your legs. You noticed Dean’s not so little problem in his jeans and you bit your lip. “Wow, sweetheart. That was unexpected, good, but unexpected.” You blushed a little. “Yeah, sorry if I overstepped. I’ve just been dying to kiss you, Dean.” “Don’t be sorry, I’ve been dying to kiss you too.”

He smiled and pulled you back flush to his body. “Maybe we can do it again.” He leaned down and kissed your lips softly. “Dean, I need to go shower. I’ll be back soon.” You kissed his lips again and walked away.

Dean ran his hands through his hair. He knew he was in trouble, and not just with his dad and Bobby. That kiss set his soul on fire, and you consumed his every thought. Shit! What am I going to do? That kiss was amazing, but Bobby and Dad told me to stay away. How can I? Her lips, her smile, her body. God! It’s driving me insane.

You climbed in the shower once it was hot enough and let the water wash over you like a warm blanket. You just kissed Dean. Bobby and his dad were against any type of relationship, but how could you not. He was so sweet, and that kiss was amazing. Besides, you were 21 and could date whoever you wanted.

Dean sat on his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Shit! Dad and Bobby were adamant about not doing anything with her, but man that kiss. Ugh! He was lost in thought when Sam stepped in the room. “Hey, Dean. Earth to Dean!” “Oh hey, Sammy. What’s up?” “What’s up with you, I called your name like 5 times.” “I screwed up Sammy. I kissed Y/N and it was amazing.” “Dude, you heard Dad and Bobby! They are going to kick your ass.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Sam, what am I going to do? I really like her, I’m drawn to her and attracted to her.” “Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. You just don’t do relationships. I don’t blame you. It’s hard to maintain one with what we do.” “Yeah, but Sam she’s in the life too. Maybe it won’t be hard.” Sam shrugged, “You still have to convince Dad and Bobby.”

Dean shook his head. He knew what Sam was saying was true, but he needed you. Sam left the room and headed back downstairs. You came out of the bathroom, dressed but your hair still wet. You passed Dean’s room and saw him sitting on the bed.

Stepping in the room you walked up to him. Dean lifted his head and smiled. “How was your shower, sweetheart.” You blushed, “It was good. I couldn’t wait to get out so I could do this again.” You leaned down and kissed his lips. He stood, not letting your lips fall from his and deepened the kiss. You felt his hands roam over your body and you moaned.

“Dean, I need you.” You whispered. “I know sweetheart, me too. We have to be patient.” You groaned and pulled back. “I don’t understand why Bobby and your Dad are so against this. We’re both adults and can make these decisions without them.” Dean pulled you closer, “I know, but we have to be smart about this. We will figure it out.” Dean kissed your forehead and you nodded.

You walked to your bedroom and made your bed. A few minutes later Bobby was at your door. “I can’t believe you’re an adult, Y/N. Your parents would be so proud of you, I’m so proud of you.” He crossed the room and hugged you tight. “Uncle Bobby, I can’t breathe.” You both laughed. “Hey, Uncle Bobby, can I ask you something?” “Sure, kiddo, what’s up?” “Why don’t you want me to have anything to do with Dean?” You asked nervously.

Bobby sighed, “Look, he’s a great kid, an amazing hunter, but he doesn’t have relationships. He sleeps with a woman and leaves her the next day. I don’t want that for you.” Your heart ached hearing that Dean slept around. You weren’t sure why you felt that way, but you couldn’t shake it. “What if he was willing to change?” Bobby took your hand, “Oh baby girl, I wish I could say he could, but I can’t. If he changed then maybe I’d be okay with you two being together. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

You sighed. You knew he was only looking out for you. “Look, let’s focus on your birthday. What do you want to do today?” Bobby said with a smile. “Honestly, I’d like to work more on my car with you if that’s okay.” “Sure, let’s see if we can get the others to help out. They are good with cars.” You nodded enthusiastically. Bobby stood up and so did you. He hugged you tightly, “I’m just trying to protect you from getting your heart broken.” “I know, I appreciate it, but you know you can’t protect me forever.” “I know, and that kills me.” You hugged him one last time before you two walked into the hallway.

Dean was walking out of his room and you made eye contact. He looked hurt. Did he hear what Bobby said to you? “Hey Dean, want to help us with Y/N’s car today? She’s rebuilding that old mustang and it’s almost done.” “Sure, I can help.” Dean sounded different. Almost small. Bobby walked around and headed back downstairs.

“Hey, Dean, are you okay?” You touched his arm and he stopped and turned towards you. “Yeah, um, I just have a lot on my mind.” He moved his arm away from you. “Dean?” He turned back to face you, “What Y/N?” “Are you sure you’re okay? Something seems wrong.” Dean’s jaw clenched, “No! I’m not. You know what, this (he motioned between the two of you) isn’t going to work out. You’re too young for me and I can’t be tied down with a relationship. I like to have fun and being with one girl isn’t fun to me.” He growled.

You flinched at his sudden change in tone towards you. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You whispered. Dean huffed and walked away. You turned back towards your room and closed the door before the tears fell.

You sat on your bed and silently cried. Dean must have heard Bobby, but why would he take it out on you? You were in your room crying for a few minutes before you were able to pull yourself together. Quickly wiping the tears away, you stood and walked downstairs.

Bobby was the first to see you and knew you had been crying. John saw you next and shot a look at Bobby and then Dean. Dean looked up and you thought you saw a hint of regret in his eyes, but they quickly turned emotionless. Bobby walked over to you, “Are you okay?” “Yeah, just sad. I miss mom and dad.” You weren’t lying, but that wasn’t the real reason you were crying. Bobby hugged you, “Me too, kiddo.”

“Okay, so who’s helping with my car?” You tried to change the subject. “I’m ready when you are. I’ll grab my keys and head over to the garage. I’ll meet you guys there in a few.” You grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Bobby’s land was filled with cars, scrap, and a huge garage where your car was. You and Bobby started to fix it up shortly after you arrived and you found it sitting in pretty good condition. Bobby said it wouldn’t be hard to get it up and running, and you figured it would be therapeutic for both of you to work on it together.

You walked in the garage and uncovered your car. You took a step back looking at her. “She’s beautiful.” You heard Dean say behind you. You turned and looked at him, regret in his eyes. “Thank you, Dean.” Dean stepped closer to you, “Hey, can we talk?” “Unless it’s about the car, I think you said everything you needed to say to me upstairs.”

Dean started to step closer and you backed away, “Dean, I get it. You like your freedom and a different girl every night. Maybe you thought you could screw me and then leave. I was stupid enough to actually think I would end up in your bed, in your life but thank you. Thank you for saving me from that. Bobby and your Dad were right, you aren’t good for me. Now if you’re going to help with my car, help. If you want to talk about anything else, there’s the door.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. He did this, he can’t be mad at you. He pushed you away, now you’re doing what you can to protect your heart. “Fine! You know what, I’m not going to sit here another damn minute and listen to you, Bobby or my Dad tell me what a fuck up I am. Tell my dad I’m going to the bar.”

He stormed out of the garage and you leaned against the workbench. Your heart was broken. You knew he was going to get drunk and pick up a woman. You were lost in thought when Sam, Bobby and John walked in. “Hey, Y/N, where did Dean go?” John asked, looking around. “Oh, um, he said he needed to run into town.” You couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces if you told them Dean went to the bar. They’d know something was wrong.

The day passed quickly and your car was up and running. You were beyond thrilled. Sam and John definitely helped work their magic and your car was purring like the day she rolled out of the assembly line. You asked Sam if he wanted to take a ride into town with you, and he jumped in.

“You kids have fun, and be safe.” Bobby said as he closed your door. “Hey, pick up whatever you want for dinner too.” Bobby handed you some money. “Thanks Bobby, see you shortly.” You said as you hugged him.

As you drove towards town Sam was grinning ear to ear. “She sounds good, Y/N.” “Yeah, thanks to you and your dad.” Sam nodded and looked out the window. “So, what happened to Dean? He told me he was coming outside to help with the car and then he was gone.” Sam asked, breaking the silence.

“Um, well honestly we got into an argument and he left, he said he was going to the bar. I didn’t want to say anything to your Dad or Bobby.” Sam looked at you, “What were you two arguing about?” “I kissed him, he kissed me back. We were stealing kisses when we could. I guess he heard Bobby talking to me today. I asked Bobby why he was so against me being with Dean and he told me about Dean picking up different women and sleeping around. How he doesn’t do relationships. If I’m being honest it kinda stung knowing Dean slept around.”

“That still doesn’t explain why he got so mad at you, he knows how he is and is often proud of it.” “Yeah, I don’t know. He told me we wouldn’t work out, that I was too young for him and he didn’t do relationships. When he came into the garage he wanted to talk and I shot him down. I don’t know Sam, maybe I should have heard him out.” You sighed. Sam took your hand and gave you a little squeeze, “No, you had every right to be upset and not hear what he had to say.” “Thanks Sammy.”

You drove around a little longer and pulled into the local bar and grill. Sam looked at you confused. “They have the best food. We can go in, we just can’t get alcohol. Come on, let’s get some dinner. I’m assuming you know what your Dad and Dean like to eat.” Sam nodded.

When you walked in, a middle aged woman walked over to you and gave you a hug. “Hey Y/N, Happy Birthday! Figured I’d see you today. Who’s this handsome young man with you?” She looked at Sam who was turning bright red. “Hey Cindy, this is Sam. His dad is friends with Uncle Bobby. They are in town for a few days and I wanted to bring him out to show him around.” She smiled and nudged you, “He’s a tall, handsome one, ain't he?” She winked at you. “Cindy, we are just friends.” You laughed.

She took you two over to a booth and you sat across from Sam. Scanning the room you noticed a man at the bar with his back to you. From behind it looked like Dean. Surely it wasn’t. Sam followed your eyes to the bar and then sighed deeply. “It’s Dean, isn’t it?” You asked. Sam nodded. “Dad is going to be pissed he’s drinking right now.”

Sam got up and walked over to the bar while you sat in the booth. Dean looked over his shoulder towards you and scoffed. Sam walked back over looking defeated. “Is everything okay, Sam?” “No, Dean is already drunk and he’s being a dick. I wouldn’t go over there if I were you.”

When Cindy came back you placed your to-go orders and sat waiting. The whole time your eyes were on Dean. He had downed at least 3 glasses of whiskey while you sat there. You had had enough and stood up. Sam grabbed your arm, “I’m telling you, Y/N. Dean can be an absolute dick when he’s hurting and drunk, just please let it go.”

“I’ll be fine Sam.” You shrugged off his arm and walked over to the bar. The bartender Jacob noticed you and walked over. “Hey girl, Happy Birthday!” He came around the bar and pulled you into a tight hug. “Hey Jacob. Thanks!” “Hey, you can finally order something from the big kid menu.” He teased you. You playfully slapped his arm.

Dean was watching the interaction and you could see his body stiffen. “So, I heard you beat up Alex and broke up with him.” Jacob laughed. “Yeah, the guy was an ass. Tried to force me in his backseat.” “He’s a dick and you’re better off without him. So, what brings you here today? Want me to make you something?” “As much as I would love that, I have to drive. I’m just here picking up food. You see that guy over there?” You pointed towards Sam. “Yeah, the tall, handsome one.” Jacob said. You laughed, “yeah, well him, his dad, and Uncle Bobby helped me get my car up and running. So I took her for a drive.”

“Oooh, and you brought the handsome one over there with you?” “He’s just a friend, Jacob. Besides, I had my eye on his older brother, but I don’t think that’s going to work out.” You glanced up at Dean and watched his body language shift a little. “That’s a bummer, cause if he’s that good looking I can’t imagine what his brother looks like.”

“Yeah, his older brother is something to behold.” You knew Dean was listening to you. “He’s just a little shorter than Sam, broad shoulders, a toned chest, his body is sunkissed and lightly dusted with freckles, piercing green eyes, and soft pouty lips. His legs are slightly bowed, thick thighs you could ride for days, calloused hands, and he definitely is packing.” Jacob was fanning himself and you saw Dean smirk. “Damn girl, point me in the direction of that man, ASAP.” You laughed, you’re not his type, Jacob. Sorry.”

“So why are you here and not riding that man until you both see stars?” “We had a disagreement and I, being stubborn, refused to listen to him. I wish I could talk to him and tell him I’m ready to listen.” “So tell him? Girl, if that man is as gorgeous as you say he is, then you should tell him.” “Maybe, the night is still young.”

Dean lifted his hand up to get Jacob’s attention. You saw Jacob pouring Dean a cup of coffee. Jacob came back over to you, “Now that man, mmm I’d give my left hand for one hour with him. He looks like he’s been carved by Greek gods. I don’t know what way he swings though. He’s turned down everyone that approached him. I asked him why, and he said he’s got someone special at home.”

You smiled at the thought of Dean turning down women as they approached him, and him telling Jacob he had someone special at home. You looked at Jacob and winked then walked over to Dean.

“Hey there handsome, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” You giggled. Dean looked up at you and smirked. Sam was holding his breath across the room. “That's the best you got, sweetheart?” “Nope, how about, I lost my number, can I have yours?” You giggled and Dean smirked again.

You touched his arm, “Dean, I am so sorry. I should have let you talk to me. I was hurt and just so disappointed. I really thought we might have something, then you said what you said and I was just sad.” “No, sweetheart, it’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or taken any of that shit out on you. Come here.” Dean pulled you into a tight hug and pulled back. “Can I kiss you again?” No words were needed, you leaned forward and his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. Jacob was standing there with his jaw on the ground.

When the two of you finally pulled away, Dean paid his tab and walked over to the booth where Sam was. Jacob shot you a smile and a thumbs up. Dean put his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. Cindy returned not long after that with your food order. “Oh and Y/N, I put a whole pie in there for you for your birthday. It’s on the house. Happy Birthday again!” “Thank you Cindy, see you later.” “Wait, you like pie?” Dean asked excitedly. “Yeah, who doesn’t?” You laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, you are definitely a girl after my own heart.

Part 2

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thewertsearch · 8 months ago

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I'm not surprised. After the stunt you pulled with that mind-control chip, you're lucky she didn't give you the Vriska treatment.

NEPETA: :33 < we can always curl up in the pile again to talk about f33lings :33 EQUIUS: D --> Nepeta, for goodness sa%es, a man can only di%uss feelings for so much time […] EQUIUS: D --> We e%amined my emotional state until we were both bl00 in the face […] NEPETA: :33 < b100 b100 b100 b100 b100 NEPETA: :33 < i just love how you say that word! EQUIUS: D --> I know

How, exactly, does he say 'b100'?

Karkat's quirk manifests as literal shouting, so I think Equius is literally saying 'bee one hundred'. Fantastic.

EQUIUS: D --> Nepeta, I think it would behoove us to address the e%treme danger in a serious manner NEPETA: :33 < you mean about gamz33? h33h33! NEPETA: :33 < im still not sure if i can believe it! […] EQUIUS: D --> His is the richest and most noble b100d possible among the high land dwellers EQUIUS: D --> As such, he is prone to being more violent and unpredictable than any of us

I'm not so sure about that.

Like - sure, based on the sample we have, the top half of the hemospectrum does seem to produce more aggressive trolls. Terezi, Vriska, Equius, Gamzee and Eridan are all demonstrably more violent than their lowblood compatriots. But are their attitudes really a product of nature?

Take Vriska, for example. She was forced to be a killer by the blue-blooded lusus that adopted her. Yeah, she's violent and unpredictable now, after years of abuse, but her situation would drive any troll to desperate measures.

Do we really think Aradia wouldn't become a murderer if her mom was a hungry spider? Of course she would!

Then there's Eridan, a troll whose behavior could not stem more obviously from the classism that was ingrained into him by society. His culture reinforces the idea that violence is his right, and that it's particularly justifiable when directed towards his inferiors.

Would Eridan really be like this if he was raised on Earth? Wouldn't Tavros or Karkat also become shitheads if they were handed this kind of privilege?

Let's not forget Feferi - a troll who, by Equius's logic, should be the most dangerous of the entire cast. She's not, and I think it's simply because there's no one above her on the hierarchy. Who's going to tell the princess that she's a failure of a highblood?

From where I'm sitting, it really seems like highbloods are aggressive due to cultural factors, rather than biological ones. Their blood doesn't predispose them to violence - it marks them as trolls who are expected to be violent. A case could be made that hemospectrum position is, in effect, a secondary gender for trolls - an institution that enforces entirely artificial standards for their behavior, which are then internalized as 'natural' by the populace.

So no, I don't think Gamzee was 'biologically predestined' to be like this - I think he picked it up from somewhere. Maybe he was more susceptible to Alternian propaganda than we realized, or maybe someone like Doc Scratch was manipulating him from the shadows. It wouldn't be the first time he's goaded a troll into violence.

You ever roleplay so hard that you literally gain a cat's slitted eyes when you're pissed?

EQUIUS: D --> I will now seek the highb100d, Nepeta […] EQUIUS: D --> I will e%act caution, even when safety 100% to be 100% assured EQUIUS: D --> Even so EQUIUS: D --> I would still like to take the opportunity to say […] EQUIUS: D --> Goodbye

Oh, man.

Alright, sound off. Does anyone really think Equius is going to stand up to a highb100d? No?

Ok, great. Let's stop beating around the bush, then.

Equius is basically walking to his death here, and he knows it. The comic's really laying the death flags on thick, with a very clearly telegraphed 'final goodbye' for Nepeta. It's almost too obvious, but I don't think it's going to be a fakeout this time. We can't all be Kanaya.

NEPETA: :33 < well ok, goodbye! NEPETA: :33 < but you had better believe i will s33 you again soon, equius! EQUIUS: D --> Yes, you will

Yeah you will - the next time you go to sleep.

#full liveblog #homestuck liveblog #act 5.2 #s125 #3438

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year ago

Text

MWIII Campaign Thoughts and Reviews

(Played in the recruit difficulty because I suck at FPS games, and I want to explore and spent time in the campaign without dying too much). Leave some thoughts!

⚠️SPOILER ALERT⚠️

So… that was devastating.

(+) To start things off, Makarov - Boy, holy shit. Yes. YESSS. They didn’t hold back with the new Makarov. He’s a mastermind, he’s a charming fella, he’s a psychopath lol. And the fact that he smiles a lot in this campaign just adds to the creepiness. I might get some side-eye here, but this Mak can go head-to-head with the OG!Mak. He’s always onto something, he’s proven destructive, had the 141 hauling ASS to chase him.

Makarov had stolen American missiles from ULF, caused false flag missile attacks on Russian Military base, and successfully orchestrated a false airplane hijacking, all under ULF's name - everything in the span of 48 hours since he got out of prison. I saw people saying that this Makarov ain't got nothing on the OG one has to be inhaling some shit copium because this is only in one single game and he's destroying shit.

I know just one game with rushed development won’t be enough for an iconic character like him, so I’m glad they didn’t kill him.

(-) I absolutely ABHOR, DETEST, LOATH the Open Combat Missions (OCM). It is so very not Call of Duty campaignesque. it doesn’t help anything with the narrative, and if anything, it even took away the narrative for us. The former missions in former games are iconic in their own way because the mission designer put a lot of thought into how the game will be played, the situations we found ourselves in.

But OCM's, we're like... Left to our own devices without any story-driven dialogues.

I think one of the reasons why MWII was so close to everyone's heart was because of the banters between the characters, especially in Alone. Here, because it's literally our choice and our time, it left us with no actual given time to know and love the characters more than we already did. Yes we love the characters, MW19 and MWII did that for us. But in this one? They said "character development is done, mate. Now go to war.”

Then again, is OCM a product and evidence of MWIII’s rushed development? 100% yes. I don’t give a shit if they cover it with “oowh we make OCM so you can play the missions differently each time without repeating the same mission over and over again!”. Let me ask you this, Activision - Have ‘repeating the mission over and over again’ been a problem with us campaign-enjoyers? No! I played the MWII campaign like 5 times, in all difficulty (except realism I still love my life), and I enjoyed it, because the mission designers took a lot of time and thought to it instead of just creating a map, putting a bunch of loadouts scattered around the area and throw us in it. So yes, it’s clear that OCM is a product of rushed development. It sucks the life out of the campaign missions.

Some people may enjoy it, but I play the campaign exactly for the linear style missions, not DMZ style.

(+) Look, I said it before that I will go to the campaign with the lowest expectation possible. I expected Mak to be sub-par, I expected them to play safe with the characters, and BOY WAS I WRONG. Setting aside the point above where the character feels stuck on the character development (which is a huge minus btw), all the characters have time to shine in their own missions, especially Price because I feel like we play him the most. However, I do also love the fact that the girls get shit done here. Farah and Laswell did their work so beautifully and apparently it was revealed that Laswell will be a MP operator, so that’s cool.

(+) Ghost being a menacing presence, can stood his ground. Price being level-headed though at the same time unhinged as usual. Gaz being the voice of reason throughout the entire fucking game LMAO. Soap being the brave man he is, the passion and fury is evident throughout the campaign. Farah being badass and dependable as usual. Alex being the main supportive guy to Farah (Faralex is canon at this point argue with a wall). Nikolai being our most reliable get-away guy.

And of course, Graves and Shepherd being the fucking goofy ahh duo I actually find interesting. The trial cutscene was such a goofy scene LMAO the fact that they backstabbed each other in the ass is real funny. I side with Graves though. However wrong and unhinged he may be, Graves is just a guy doing his job and did what he’s told to do.

(+) I love the fact that Mak tried to frame Urzikstan to pin the blame on them. It's exactly what the OG!Makarov did but in HD. The Passenger mission is phenomenal and more damn traumatizing if only it was a bit longer and more stretched. There are many more reference to the OG games and I absolutely love it.

Now…

Soap’s Death

Remembering all the MWII missions with Soap... It hits differently now, man.

(-) I've read a lot of people's arguments about it that the fact that it happened is just for shock value and kind of disappointing. Because let’s be real here, Soap is an SAS who got the name Soap because of how much of a slippery bastard he is. Granted, Mak is an ex-Spetsnaz and can fight with Soap. But how he went down in a goddamn takedown without any chance of fighting is just… it’s not it.

To add to that, the reaction from the boys is just... Underwhelming? Like I get it they're battle-hardened SAS soldiers, but let them show some damn emotions for fuck’s sake. One of the main reason why the OG!Soap’s death is really painful is because of Price’s reaction to it. How he said “NO. NO NO NO SOAP!!” While he shook Soap’s lifeless body in the table. At least let Price kneel to him, straighten his body, touch his vest. Close his eyes, gather Soap’s hand and PUT HIS GUN ON his chest all the while Ghost and Gaz knelt beside them. I do love the fact that they literally went to Scotland to let go of his ashes with Ghost holding the urn though. I cried in this scene.

And the fact that it happened with the shortest campaign out of all the reboot MW games, it just felt rushed. Yes. It’s completely rushed, there’s no doubt about it. Again, the result of rushed developments.

(+) Now, with that said, I kind of want to shed light on how Soap is literally the youngest guy in the group. He had so much to live for. He's a sunshine in the middle of this gruff emotionally hardened man. He's such a joy to be around. He's brave. He's fresh. The fact that he's got so much to live for adds to the sadness and bitterness, which I actually like.

Sometimes I do kind of like those kinds of deaths, where the character is too soon to die, because it hit so much harder and in a different way than the OG! one. We got to see the OG!Soap went from when he was an FNG, turn to a captain, to a man of fortitude that earned Price's honor and sacrificed himself to protect Price. We saw how he developed and changed. We saw his entire career with us throughout all the OG!MW trilogy.

Reboot!Soap's story barely even started, and the fact that he's still so young, imagining how he'd be one hell of an officer, how he'd lead his team in the future.

OG!Soap’s death is sad because all the times and memories we’ve been through with him, but Reboot!Soap’s death is equally sad for the times we could’ve gone through with him.

I want to say this though, some people said that Soap's death is sudden, but I wouldn't agree with that. I think the telltales are all there.

In the helicopter scene after Price and Soap caught him in Verdansk, Mak literally SAID HIS FULL NAME. That is a literal pinpoint death sentence from Makarov. And how emotional Soap’s reaction is compared to the other boys when the airport blew up. The signs are literally all there! I saw it coming actually.

So is Soap’s death rushed? Yes. Could it have been executed better? Yes. Is it for shock value? Yes. But is it as sad? Yes. Honestly, I blame the rushed development and due dates for this. Activision is a cash grabber who wanted a yearly release so they can catch more money. I fucking bet my ass that initially they didn’t want to kill Soap, but it’s like a last-minute decision to make this game actually look like it’s worth 70 dollars.

Like by the end of the game, nothing has been accomplished. Big Bad Guy is on the loose, and we lost Soap. Yea we did stop some of Makarov's attacks, but we ended with a loss. It's a completely sad ending. I just wish we get to continue with more missions after Soap's death like in OG!MW3 though :(

WHAT'S NEXT?

Now. Shepherd is positively fucken dead. Price is now an actual criminal and a fugitive. He just killed a 4-star US Marines general in his own office. Price is entering his insane and unhinged era. I do wonder if he'll go even more unhinged than this.

The story will undoubtedly continue in the MP seasons (although probably only 2 seasons that mattered because it'll also undoubtedly be filled with skins and collabs and shit). I think it will also focus more on transitioning to the next CoD games, which will be Black Ops (It is confirmed that for the 2024 and 2025 CoD, it will be Black Ops games).

We're talking future here, so if there's going to be a CoD MWIV, It might be possible that this is the game where we'll finally defeat Makarov while the 141 copes with losing Soap. I do wonder if Price will become too unhinged and will get rid of everything on his way to kill Mak. Price's reckless acts will become too much for Gaz that it's starting to hurt other people and himself, and Gaz will do something against Price's command or wish - and Ghost will have to choose a side. Now that's the kind of drama I want to see.

What do I score this campaign, what do I score this campaign... The story is actually good, but because the development is evidently rushed, the packaging feels a bit hollow. It's a 7/10 for me!

---

Wait you know what

We get to pet a dog named Riley. 10/10, Game of The Fucking Year.

Reboot!Logan/Hesh (?) 👀

---

So there it goes! If you've read this far I love you and Activision will pay for my therapy (ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ)

#call of duty modern warfare iii spoilers #call of duty modern warfare 3 spoilers #mwiii spoilers #mw3 spoilers #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #call of duty modern warfare III #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare 2023 #task forc 141 #tf141 #sleepy's game reviews

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usergif · 1 year ago

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HOW TO: Make Animated Neon Text

Hi! No one asked for this tutorial, but this is one of my favorite typography effects as of late — so I thought I'd share how I do it. You can see this effect in the first gif of this *NSYNC Celebrity set and the last gif of this Anthony Bridgerton set. Disclaimer: This tutorial assumes you have a basic understanding of gif-making in Photoshop. It's also exclusively in Timeline and uses keyframes for the fading effect seen on the blue text.

PHASE 1: PREP YOUR BASE GIF

1.1 – Choose a dark scene. This effect looks best contrasted against a dark background. You can definitely do it with a bright background, but just like a neon sign irl, you only turn it on in the dark/at night — so keep that in mind!

1.2 – Determine the length of your clip. Depending on how much you want your text to flash or fade in, you'll want to make sure you have a scene long enough to also allow the text not to flash — reducing the strain it takes to actually read the text. For reference, my gif is 48 frames.

1.3 – Crop, color, etc. as you would. New to gif-making? Check out my basic tutorial here!

PHASE 2: FORMAT YOUR TEXT

Before we animate anything, get your text and any vectors laid out and formatted exactly as you want them!

2.1 – Finding neon sign fonts. It's easy as going to dafont.com and typing "neon" into the search bar!

2.2 – Fonts I used. Neon Glow by weknow | Neon by Fenotype | Neon Bines by Eknoji Studio

And to not leave my fellow font hoarders hanging, the font for "tutorial by usergif" is Karla (it's a Google font) 🥰

2.3 – Group your text layers. (Conditional) If you plan on having multiple text layers like I did and you want them to appear connected (like how the last letters of "NEON" and "sign" intersect with the wand icon), I suggest putting the layers into groups according to color (the shortcut to group layers is Command+G). If you don't group your text and just apply the outer glow settings to each individual layer, you'll end up with something like this:

—where you can see the glow overlap with the line, instead of the smooth connection you see in my final example gif. I'm using 2 colors for my text, so I made a group for red and a group for blue.

2.4 – Apply Outer Glow. Right-click your text layer (or your group if you have several layers) and select "Blending Options" to open the Layer Style menu. Check "Outer Glow" and feel free to play around with the settings until you like the way your text looks!

Your outer glow color should be darker and more vibrant than the color of the text itself. The text should be within the same color family but much brighter and, sometimes, almost white (see Step 2.2 again for my text colors).

Here are the settings for the Red Glow (the glow color is #FF3966) and Blue Glow (#00F0FF):

These aren't always my exact settings but they're pretty close to my standard. I always set the blend mode to Hard Light and usually have the opacity at 100%.

For every gif I use this effect on, I like to play around with Spread and Size. Spread will make the glow look denser and "expand the boundaries" (source: Adobe) and Size will diffuse the glow and blow it out so it covers a larger area (Adobe says it "Specifies the radius and size of blur").

2.5 – Duplicate your text layer/groups and remove glow. We're only going to be animating the glow on our text, and since doing this affects its opacity/visibility, we want to preserve the base text by creating a duplicate.

I just hit the Command+J shortcut to duplicate my groups and delete the Outer Glow effects, making sure that the "No Glow" version is above the "Glow" version:

I also put all these groups into one group called "Text" for organization and so I could apply a drop shadow to all the elements for better visibility.

PHASE 3: CREATE THE FLASHING EFFECT

This is for the effect you see on the RED text in my gif!

3.1 – The 0.03-Second Rule If you've read any of my animation tutorials before, you're probably already familiar with this rule. In my experience (and for reasons I can't explain), Video Timeline pauses every 0.03 seconds (try clicking the forward button a few times, you'll probably find a "duplicate" or paused frame). So, keep all your layers a duration of 0.03-second increments (e.g. 0.06 or 0.09 seconds can also work) and align them on the Timeline at 0.03-second intervals. If you don't follow this rule, you'll get duplicate frames when you export, resulting in a choppy final gif.

3.2 – Trim and arrange your text layers. Only on the layers/groups WITH the Outer Glow effect, trim them into several segments of varying lengths where the glow will be "on" (visible) and leaving spaces where the glow should be "off."

Typically, I'll have a mixture of 0.06 and 0.03-second text. That's when the glow will be visible. Between each "flash" of visibility, I've got a 0.03-second blank space, baby *pen clicks* and I'll write your name:

The layers shown above are arranged with a few flashes and two long segments of no flashing. This is the order and duration of each segment shown above (purple = visible segments):

0.06 blank, 0.06 visible, 0.03 blank, 0.03 visible, 0.03 blank, 0.03 visible, 0.03 blank, 0.24 visible (the long bit where "FLASHING" doesn't flash at all), 0.03 blank, 0.03 visible, 0.03 blank, 0.12 visible

(I only did this for the text that says "FLASHING" to give it a glitching effect. The other red text keeps the glow visible starting at the first long segment.)

PHASE 4: CREATE THE FADE-IN EFFECT

This is for the effect you see on the BLUE text in my gif!

4.1 – Animate using the Opacity Keyframe. Again, we're only touching the layers/groups WITH the glow effect. If you only have one layer of text, you'll find the Opacity Keyframe by clicking the film reel icon:

If you're working with groups like me, you'll find it in the Timeline panel under the group when it's expanded:

As you can see, I already added my keyframes (lil diamond babies). And luckily, it's super easy to do!

4.2 – Add the ending Keyframe first. We're starting at the end because our layers/groups are already at 100% opacity. Drag the playhead (the blue arrow attached to the red vertical line) to a spot where you want the glow to be 100% opaque — this is where the glow will be fully "on" or visible. [Again, follow the 0.03-Second Rule. You will get duplicate frames regardless when using keyframes (this will be explained in the note in Phase 5), but abiding to the rule will mitigate the amount of dupes you get.]

Then, click the clock icon by "Opacity" to place a keyframe:

4.3 – Add the starting Keyframe. Go backward from the ending Keyframe you just placed (I went back 0.12 seconds — but you can play around with the duration of the fade, just keep it a multiple of 0.03):

And drop another keyframe, this time by clicking the diamond icon by "Opacity":

4.4 – Reduce the opacity on the starting Keyframe. Keeping that keyframe you just placed selected, go to the layers panel and reduce your layer's/group's opacity to 0%:

Now, this Outer Glow will slowly fade from 0% to 100% opacity.

And just for a visual aid, here's where my fade-in keyframes are in relation to my flashing segments:

To refresh your mind, the 0% Opacity Keyframe starts when "FLASHING" is visible for 0.24 seconds (the first long segment of visibility).

With these keyframes, you'll get a smooth fade-in à la ✨light switch with a dimmer✨

PHASE 5: EXPORT

Yay, we're finished! Convert from Timeline back to Frames and export your gif!

NOTE: If you only did the flashing effect and followed my 0.03-Second Rule, you shouldn't have any duplicate gifs. BUT if you included the fade-in effect using keyframes, you WILL have duplicate frames. 'Tis the nature of keyframes. 🤷‍♀️ I had 4 extra frames where the fade-in starts, which I deleted. So, as always, I recommend checking your frames when you convert from Video Timeline back to Frame Animation — and manually delete any duplicate frames.

Sorry this tutorial is so long 🙈 I over-explain so you're not just mechanically copying steps, but understanding the WHY behind each step! Thanks for bearing with me

If you have specific questions about this tutorial, feel free to send a message to usergif and I'll try my best to help! :)

More USERGIF tutorials • More resources by Nik • USERGIF Resource Directory

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astralnymphh · 1 year ago

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⋆.ೃ;aestra's footnotes V. 🦢

ellie laying on your lap hcs ♡

(pic kinda relates to the hcs if u ignore the blood 🥴)

content; fluff, specific scenario, tlou universe, joels alive

an; giving you guys all my pure, fluff thoughts before dumping my gloomy ass angst within a week 🤣

𖤐. spots you taking a break during patrol, slumping down the base of a rigid trunk, and immediately scrambles over with tired knees. plop goes the side of her head on your cushioned thighs. she don't ask. don't ask why. let her bee 🐝

☠︎︎. lovesss the girls with big thighs, and small thighs. either way, they replicate two fluffy pillows, and that's all she needs. also loves running her fingertips between the bottom crevice lining your thigh-and-the ground. her love language is touch. 100%

𖤐. will inevitably begin to squeeze and prod the fat of your inner thigh with needy fingers, murmuring "hmmpp, so soft.." in that husky tune, cause she. is. in. heaaavenn.

☠︎︎. godddd, can't you just envision her pursed smile when your fingers begin to twine with her timber auburn strands, in reaction nuzzling her nose closer to your leg and poking you. a few gusts of chopped air hitting your thighs when she chuckles. "yuhhpp, keep doin' th-t.." rasped ellie, muzzled in the warmth of your thigh.

𖤐. your bored eyes catch sight of the dandelion cluster birthed from the stumps surrounding grass. hmm, are you thinking what I'm thinking? yeah. you start plucking the flora and threading it through her locks. ellie's tired ass doesn't notice the strange ruffling in her scalp at first 'till a blotch of lemon yellow clouds her peripherals.

"what the h-" her eyes screw over to you, head rotating.

you pivot her back with a firm, but loving, grip, "stay still."

"are you for real putting-"

"yes."

"tchh-" she hisses out into the air, "it's just gonna fall out.."

"but it's worth it."

"mhmm.. but you'd look way better, l'mme do it-"

☠︎︎. sometimes, instead, she'll laze between your tempered legs and slants her head on your thigh. it's cozier this way. oh my god and the way her lashes would graze your skin lightly.. goofbye..

𖤐. falls asleep sometimes and snores on you. probably drools cuz I said so. anyways, you flick her on the head to wake her up like "els, u're drooling again." and she just pretends like it never happened. "wha- whaattt.. nope, i did not. dunno' what u're talking bout babe."

☠︎︎. other times, she'll lounge the back of her head there, staring up at you and the ether that crowns your head high above. ellie rejoices in the seraphic depicture that is your face. so, god, whenever she gets a long glimpse of you, her worries wash away, and forgets the troubles lacerating at her composure. it feels like fireflies dancing on her freckles, midface heating up whenever she's with you in this position. heaven in her world.

𖤐. hair always gets rustled up when she lifts her weight off, and no, she doesn't bother to fix it. treading around the patrol route, looking like she got jumped by five infected.

☠︎︎. one time, you guys succumbed to slumber on joel's sofa with ellie, her head on your lap per usual. bro strolled in and caught you two like this, snapping a photo with his clunky ass vintage camera and then would show it to ellie the next morning, whispering, "pshh, bunch'a sleepyheads."

(gif from elliedisorder)

MASTERLIST

#ellie williams #⋆.ೃ;cuddly ellie 🔛🔝#ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x fem!reader #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams x reader

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vidavalor · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I'm not 100% sure if this has already been asked or not, I quickly checked your masterlist but I didn't read everything but I was just thinking about Crowley's "We've been talking for millions of years!" When Nina and Maggie told him they should properly talk. And how it doesn't seem to fit with his "How long have we been friends? 6000 years!" To Azi in season 1.

I know you-know-who said that time was different Before The Beginning but in that scene, Aziraphale also mentions "All this will be shut down in about 6000 years." And that moment genuinely seems to be their first time of meeting each other. And if it wasn't, had they been talking to each other without knowing each other's name?

So I wanted to know your opinion on it (and I hope this makes sense).

Hi there, @flerken-is-not-a-cat! 💕 Hope you're having a good week so far. Oh, yeah, I have ideas that can make sense of the interesting contradictions about which you're asking. 😉 Flattered you asked & happy to share an opinion. There's chocolate cake, if you'd like some? *gets the plates and puts on the coffee*

How have Crowley & Aziraphale been talking for "millions of years"... and also only been "friends" for "six thousand years"?

As usual, we're taking a slightly scenic route to get there so if you're also in the mood for related stuff about Crowley's complicated relationship with being a snake-- and if you can pull your eyes past the hypnotic wriggles of the above gif-- you'll probably extra enjoy this one. 🐍

TWs: brief, non-descriptive mentions of abuse (Crowley & Nina as abuse survivors) & suicide ideation (Aziraphale's worry for Crowley in 1862).

There are really two questions we'd have to answer in order to be able to make sense of the topics in your ask:

Why are we shown in several scenes that Crowley and Aziraphale both consider Eden when they first met when we know from 2.01's Before the Beginning scene that they actually met prior to Crowley's fall, and...

If every other scene-- including the "How long have we been friends? Six thousand years!" in The Bandstand Scene-- show them acting as if they've been only talking for just over six millennia, then what does Crowley mean in 2.06 when he tells Maggie and Nina that he and Aziraphale have been talking for "millions of years"?

As you pointed out in your ask, we know that Crowley and Aziraphale met prior to Crowley's fall and started the universe together but we also know that Crowley and Aziraphale both refer to the start of their relationship as if they first met as S1 initially led us to believe that they did-- in The Garden of Eden, just over six thousand years ago.

Why?

Likely, for three, interconnected reasons...

One is that, while they both know that they met prior to Eden, it's unclear if Crowley remembers that first meeting.

Based on how he was empathizing with Gabriel's fragmented flashes of memory in S2, Crowley's memory is also like this. That is what he's telling Gabriel when he talks about how he knows what it is to look "where the furniture isn't."

If you use Gabriel's memories and how they're presented to the audience in S2 as an example of this, it's easy to see how scary and frustrating this would be for not only Gabriel and Crowley but for the other angels and demons who have had their memories messed with.

That moment when Gabriel gets his memories back and we see them with him gives both the character of Gabriel and the audience all the needed context to understand what he had been saying to Crowley in the scene in the gif above earlier. Between the Ineffable Bureaucracy flashback and what Crowley sees in Heaven of Gabriel's trial, the disconnected, context-less snippets that Gabriel could remember-- the matchbox, the "institutional problem", etc..-- come together into a cohesive narrative that makes total sense to us and, thankfully, also Gabriel, who can be more at peace since getting his memories back.

Crowley really hasn't had this experience with his memories in this way. His memory from prior to his fall is still very fragmented and he is shown in his interactions with Beez about The Book of Life to not really trust himself on his own memories when he goes from being sure he remembered it correctly to defaulting to Beez on the topic. The reason why he's so unsure about his memories is because he has so many holes in his memory that he cannot feel like he can fully trust it because, for all he knows, he could remember one thing but then still be forgetting another thing which would completely change the context of the first thing.

It might be that Crowley does remember Before the Beginning but it also might be that he can only remember a snippet or two of it. He also might not remember any of it at all. We don't know.

It's also possible that he didn't initially remember any of it and then has since been able to recall maybe at least some of it. His interactions with Gabriel and Beez in S2 are basically saying that Crowley has been able to recall some things from prior to his fall but the implication of these scenes is also that attempting to recall pre-fall memories has been a very painful, very difficult process for Crowley.

It's not a process that honestly seems like it's been wildly successful for him. He has had some recall but nowhere near the instant zap of his memory back like Gabriel had with The Fly. I think we all can agree that Crowley has probably tortured himself half to death trying to remember Before the Beginning but whether or not he's been fully or partially successful so far is unknown.

So, the point is that Crowley's fall impacted his ability to recall Before the Beginning and it's not totally clear what, if any of it, he remembers. It likely isn't a full, shared memory between Crowley and Aziraphale, which would relate it to sadness and to Crowley's fall more than really make Before the Beginning be about the two of them. In this way, if they say they met beginning from when they both can remember doing so in Eden, then they have the memory of that as part of the shared history between them.

Additionally, there is the other way that Crowley's fall makes Before the Beginning a potentially complicated time to consider their first meeting and that's because of what we learn in S2 through the stories of Muriel and Gabriel about the memory threat to angels.

In S2, it becomes apparent that Heaven will also take the memory of angels that they don't necessarily then cast to Hell. This tells us that not only is there the problem of Crowley's ability to recall Before the Beginning but that, hanging over Crowley and Aziraphale, there has always been the possibility of Aziraphale's memories being taken by Heaven.

Right now, the implication in the story is that Aziraphale is carrying the full memory of Before the Beginning for both of them. We've seen evidence that Crowley and Aziraphale are doing things to try to circumvent what they can of the effect of memory loss for Aziraphale, in the event that it should ever happen, but the threat of it has been something they've had to consider all along.

If Crowley indeed cannot remember anything or much of anything about Before the Beginning and if Aziraphale were then to lose his memories, their first meeting in the stars would be lost to them entirely.

It could be that one of the reasons why they decided to make Eden when they consider they met is that it's after Crowley's fall and he would remember it so, in the event that Aziraphale's memories were ever taken from him, Crowley would be still able to tell him how they met. It's a way of trying to be in control of their own story together and make it so that they can still have a memory of a first meeting between them, even if it's not technically the very first time they met.

These reasons, while important, are likely not the top reason why they choose to recognize Eden as the first time they met, though-- at least not from Aziraphale's point of view. There's one more reason why that I can think of...

While it's abundantly obvious that Aziraphale had a massive crush on Angel!Crowley, it's even far more abundantly obvious that the person Aziraphale is in love with is the one who has been his best friend for the last six thousand years.

It's the demon that he met in The Garden of Eden.

It is very important to Aziraphale to stress that he feels that way to Crowley and one of the ways that he does is to say that their love story began when they met after Crowley's fall.

Yes, Aziraphale found Crowley attractive as an angel, too, but the eyes that angel looked into and fell in love with are Crowley's pair of vavoomy, yellow, serpentine ones. Aziraphale liked Angel!Crowley but he's fallen in love with the demon Crowley. Yes, it's all the same person... but it's also not all the same person. Aziraphale recognizing that is a way of making Crowley feel seen and loved.

By never missing an opportunity to show or tell Crowley how much he loves aspects of him that are related to Crowley being a demon-- like how frequently he likes to show and tell Crowley how much those eyes of his undo him-- Aziraphale is emphasizing that he loves Crowley as Crowley is.

We are shown that Crowley has a complicated relationship with being a snake that is metaphorical for a lot of the abuse he's suffered as a result of his fall and Satan. People can heal from trauma but they cannot reverse the fact that they've suffered it. Surviving it is something that never ends and it involves a lot of reclamation of the self. Some of this is shown a lot in Crowley's story through his struggles with his identity, such as in his forming new ones to counteract different aspects of being Crawley and a snake, which he associates with forced subjugation.

Since becoming a snake was forced upon him, it's symbolic of understandable struggle to adjust to becoming the survivor he never asked to have to become.

He rejects the name that came with it, eventually throwing over the "bit too squirming at your feet-ish" Crawly for Crowley, inspired by hiding himself in plain sight a la he did with Job's goats and being not a snake but a crow who flies free and serves no master. It's a name only Aziraphale really understands, showing how Aziraphale has been there and supportive throughout Crowley's on-going process.

Rejecting the old sense of self that is associated with abuse and weakness can be an empowering thing but even more so is getting to a state of acceptance that involves finding a sense of strength in what you've survived and incorporating that as part of your self-definition.

That's why Crowley and Aziraphale both frame it with the truth that is that Crowley isn't just a snake... Crowley is the damn snake.

He's The Serpent of Eden.

Being The Serpent is kind of the ultimate reclamation of self for Crowley because it's taking this thing of being a snake that was forced upon him that changed him, inside and out, forever, and that is tied up with-- and metaphorical for-- all the other abuse that did the same, and owning the hell out of it.

They made him a snake and his fuck you is to own the fact that he then became the most powerful, legendary, and impactful snake of all fucking time. The Serpent does not squirm at anyone's feet. He freed mankind. He is unbreakable, and made stronger for having survived.

So, Aziraphale is all about supporting that and it helps that he's genuinely into it to a rather obviously high degree. 😂 Our angel has a *tries to count* idk, like, ten different scenes canonical kink for The Serpent's eyes-- and it's hardly the only serpentine thing they've got going on...

The point is that they didn't meet Before the Beginning because Angel!Crowley isn't Aziraphale's partner-- that black-clad survivor known as the demon Crowley is.

They're all the same person but they're also not. There is still plenty of Angel!Crowley that lives in Demon!Crowley but Demon!Crowley is also someone who has seen a great deal of pain and loving him means acknowledging that. Aziraphale is loving him well, and in a very trauma-informed way, by having their story begin with when he truly met that Crowley in Eden.

Ok, great, you're probably saying-- makes sense that they see it as having been the last six thousand years since Eden, but... then what about Crowley saying "millions of years" to Maggie and Nina?

So, the funny part here, imho, is that it's only really because of Crowley and Aziraphale being quasi-immortal beings who existed prior to the creation of Earth that we're even debating the possibility that Crowley meant "millions of years" literally. There are two layers to what Crowley is saying in that scene but the surface layer of it, imho, is just that he's simply exaggerating.

He's using "millions of years" in the same way that I said to my friend the other day that I was pretty sure I had read a book by the author we were discussing "a million years ago" but I couldn't remember exactly when. Although I have long been suspected of being a supernatural being, I can assure you that I am not millions of years old and so meant that figuratively. I'm sure that Crowley did, too, and that's also how Maggie and Nina took it-- as was Crowley's intention.

But, since Crowley and Aziraphale are quasi-immortal supernatural beings... let's look at whether or not Crowley saying "millions of years" is a possible thing, based on what we currently know.

Like you mentioned in your ask, Aziraphale mentions the concept of years in Before the Beginning when he says that the plan is to shut Earth down again "in about six thousand years." Crowley also mentioned years when he said how long his stars would need to bake. The concept of a year wasn't unfamiliar to either of them in Before the Beginning. Time seems to have been measured by Heaven in years at this point.

There is a joke about the concept of time, though-- Crowley saying he's been waiting to start his stars "since, well, always"-- but that might actually just be saying that Crowley's literally done not much else since he came into existence but work on these stars. We don't know how long that took. Part of that is because we don't actually know when or how it all began-- and neither, it would appear, do the angels. We have no idea how long any of the angels were around before the Before the Beginning scene.

Like you mentioned, Before the Beginning does seem like the first time they met. I think it's meant to satisfy the itch for a glimpse of Angel!Crowley and also to bookend a season that ends with Aziraphale falling. Between the opening scene leading to Crowley's fall and the final one that is doing the same with Aziraphale's are stories related to both. In each one, Hell orbits closer-- Aziraphale's first pass with feeling like he would fall in the Job minisode; Hell stalking and nearly capturing them in 1941; Crowley being dragged to Hell practically out of Aziraphale's arms in 1827.

Do I think there's some aspects of Before the Beginning that, if you wanted to squint a bit, you could theorize that it's maybe not really the very first time they've met? I mean... yeah but only because once they established in the show that angels' memories can be zapped by Heaven whenever, they made it theoretically possible that Before the Beginning wasn't the first time Crowley and Aziraphale met.

Is Aziraphale re-introducing himself to a memory-wiped Crowley? Was Aziraphale actually like Muriel and had a whole other identity that Crowley had met before but then showed up like it was the first time and said "I'm Aziraphale"? All would make fun fanfic and are theoretically possible but I'm not sure it's entirely what we're supposed to take away from the scene.

I'm fairly sure we're meant to see Before the Beginning as the very first time Crowley and Aziraphale ever met. Even if they had considered maybe playing with that canonically in S3-- and I don't think that was something that was going to happen-- it's so incredibly unimportant to the story right now. We have an hour and a half left so I think it's very safe to say that we will get to the end of Good Omens with Before the Beginning as the first chronological meeting still intact.

One of the most relevant lines to a sense of time in Before the Beginning is the one you mentioned in your ask-- Aziraphale telling Crowley that the plan was to shut "all this down again in about six thousand years." This says that Before the Beginning is taking place relatively closely in time to Eden, as Armageddon: Round One began in Year 6,004 of Earth. It would seem that Before the Beginning is meant to have been their first meeting and that it occurred within a handful of years prior to Eden.

That would make it difficult to think that they'd actually been talking for millions of years prior to that and that they somehow managed to elude memory-wipes enough to know that. Fun fic idea but I don't think it's what the show is saying.

One of the strongest reasons why I think it's their real, first meeting is actually how the story has built Maggie and Nina's first interactions to parallel it. I think that most of us have a general feeling from Before the Beginning that Aziraphale and Crowley had seen each other in passing and had maybe exchanged the odd word before-- which is akin to Maggie and Nina, who worked across the street from one another and who had spoken prior to their "first meeting" scenes.

Between Aziraphale zipping over, clearly thrilled to bits at the opportunity to have an excuse to talk to Crowley, and Crowley acting like he's familiar with who this angel is in a "I know who you are-- you're the skinny latte" sort of way, Before the Beginning isn't really the first time they ever laid eyes on one another, exactly, so much as it's the first time they've spoken privately and more extensively.

One of my favorite visual parallels in the show is one reinforcing Before the Beginning and Maggie & Nina, which is what David Tennant and Nina Sosanya do with mirroring one another's movements in these scenes below. See how they help reinforce the scenes as paralleling ones by both looking away because they're unable to stop smiling at the sparkly-eyed angel who is pretty obviously hitting on them?

Both of them are as attracted to the angel in their midst as Maggie and Aziraphale are attracted to them. We know the motivation behind Nina's hesitation and that's reiterated in the subsequent scenes between her and Maggie when Nina starts mentioning her partner. Maggie and Nina are each both paralleling aspects of Crowley and Aziraphale-- sometimes at once, sometimes in different ways in different scenes. Just as Nina's relationship with Lindsay is echoing Aziraphale's feeling of abandonment at the hands of Heaven/God in different scenes, she's also a Crowley parallel and her abusive relationship with Lindsay is a variant of Crowley and then-Lucifer/Satan.

One potential reason for Crowley not giving Aziraphale his name in Before the Beginning is that, like Nina, there is likely the controlling partner that the sweet, interested angel doesn't know about. There is a sense of being trapped and feeling afraid of being hurt or of getting the angel hurt should the partner learn of this interaction that is making them close off a little.

So, anyway, we just said there's no literal "millions of years" but before we look at that other layer to "millions of years" that isn't just exaggeration here? Just look for a moment at a couple of other times in the series when time-related figures of speech have been used to make the sense of time a bit less literal...

One time figure of speech is in one of the very scenes we've been discussing here: the one on the wall in Eden. God's narration says how many days have passed since Earth was created?

"Rather more than seven." It looks to be a bit of a joke on Genesis and the idea of God creating the Earth in seven days and seven as a perfect number. [Michael in the Job minisode: "You know God and sevens."] The way this is phrased indicates that a significant number of days greater than seven had transpired before the scene we watched of Crowley and Aziraphale on the wall watching Adam & Eve leave The Garden. How many? We don't know. "Rather more" means "more than a few" but it's intentionally vague and interpretable. It's not an excessively huge number but it's not a small number, either.

It is, really, an enormously funny way to suggest to the reader/viewer that figuring out for how long they were in Eden is barking up the wrong tree because it's not something considered at all essential to the story.

Whether you think they were there for thirty days or six months or three years really doesn't matter. 'It was rather more than seven days and feel free to do whatever with that you think is reasonable' is the general attitude. What matters more is noticing how the wording states that it doesn't matter rather than trying to solve it. I think it's kind of like a word version of the Gabriel and the box situation in 2.01, in terms of what's important is to note what details are being said are kind of immaterial to the story.

The other one is an example of a time-related figure of speech that they make intentionally impossible to take literally and, as such, is more vague than it might originally appear to be. That is in the S1 script book and it's the note that, when Crowley arrives in the church in 1941, that he and Aziraphale haven't spoken "in a hundred years."

Both within the script book itself and in the show itself, we cannot take this literally for the simple fact that, even if you think that Crowley and Aziraphale didn't speak from their 1862 holy water fight until 1941, that's not "a hundred years"-- that's seventy-nine years.

That's a lot closer to being seventy-five years than it is one hundred so why wouldn't it say in the script book "haven't spoken in over seventy-five years" or something to that effect? Because it's not referencing "in a hundred years" literally but figuratively... and that completely and utterly changes the amount of time we're talking about.

It's referencing the way people will say that they feel like haven't seen or talked to someone they're fond of "in a hundred years!" if it's been awhile since they last saw them. No one ever means literally in a hundred years. It's just a way to say that it feels like it's been too long.

The measure of time in the figurative "in a hundred years" is entirely dependent on the people seeing one another again and what they both consider a long time apart, right? It's wildly subjective.

It could have been a surprisingly short amount of time since they had last seen one another prior to the church in 1941, which would also go along with how their reactions to seeing one another in the church are not really in line with the idea that they haven't seen one another in decades.

Not to mention that Aziraphale, in 1862, was concerned by the holy water request that Crowley was exhibiting signs of suicide ideation. Storm off in a huff for a few hours after the argument, sure, but not talking to him when he thought Crowley was suicidal is just not on. He might have felt uncomfortable for a long time about giving Crowley the supernatural equivalent of a gun but he didn't not talk to him.

Supporting this are other scenes that show that they were in contact between 1862 and 1941, like this scene below in 1.01, in which Aziraphale tells/reminds Crowley that he picked up a dozen cases of Chateauneuf-de-Pape for their "special occasions" when? In 1921...

Why would Aziraphale be investing in 1921 in a dozen cases (that's 144 bottles) of a favorite vintage of wine he and Crowley enjoy drinking on their special occasions if he and Crowley hadn't spoken to one another since 1862?

1921 is just 20 years before 1941, too... but a couple of scenes in S2 narrow that time window ahead of 1941 even more.

Aziraphale mentions "90 years ago" to Crowley in reference to their relationship and The Bentley and, later, Shax has one of the most interesting bits of timeline-referencing in the series when she tells Aziraphale when she remembers first hearing rumors about him and Crowley being lovers.

Referencing "90 years ago" in these scenes is actually referencing the 1930s. In the scene between Crowley and Aziraphale, it's showing that they were together during the 1930s and that is reinforced by the later scene with Shax, which surprises by having her not just say "80 years."

If Shax had only said "80 years ago" in the scene in the present with Aziraphale, the audience would have assumed that Shax had first heard about the possibility of Crowley and Aziraphale being an item in 1941. Instead, they have her say "80, 90 years ago", implying that she actually had heard a rumor about Crowley and Aziraphale in the 1930s.

Since she says "80, 90 years ago", she's probably actually referring to the late 1930s... which means the show's timeline actually just narrowed its "a hundred years" since the last time Crowley and Aziraphale spoke prior to 1941 as less than the number of years we can count on one hand... at the most. It could well be even less than that.

So, the point is that the story will use measures of time in a figure-of-speech sort of way at times so "millions of years" is an example of that. It's an exaggeration that just means that Crowley and Aziraphale have been talking for a long time... but this is where the other layer comes in and make this even funnier.

There are a bunch of scenes wherein Crowley and Aziraphale are each on their own but where they choose to phrase their responses to outsiders-- angels, demons, and humans alike-- using the hidden language they made up to mask their speech and flirt, even though they are the only one in that moment that understands the euphemistic, hidden level of it. The S1 scene below shows why:

They do it so that, when they've met up again later on and are talking about what happened in their days when they were apart, they can crack each other up with their recounting of what was said.

In the above scene, as looked at in another post, Crowley and Aziraphale are really laughing because Hell thinks that Aziraphale-as-Crowley asked them for the little yellow duck toy that kids play with in the bathtub known as a rubber duck and that joke is, as always, funny in its own right. Aziraphale was bursting at the seams to tell Crowley that he asked Hell for a rubber duck, though, because, to the two of them? It's euphemistic for an, ahem, personal pleasure device.

Using their hidden language/cant vocabulary around other people with the intent to share the amusing wordplay later on with one another is a way to make each other laugh and also appears to be a way for both of them to manage stress while interacting with head office or irritating humans. They can get through it by knowing that they are going to tell one another later what words they chose to sound one way on a surface level but that which were actually full of innuendo on a second level.

This is relevant because Crowley, irritated with Maggie and Nina, starts doing this during their conversation in 2.06 and the "millions of years" line is part of the multi-level reply.

When Maggie and Nina show up back at the bookshop in 2.06 and say they need to talk to him, Crowley is already telling them it's not a good time. When he hears what it is they apparently have to say right that moment, he is very over this conversation.

Crowley cannot imagine a more bizarre conversation than this and he's ticked about it because he just spent the week trying to help these two who wouldn't have ever gotten this far without his help and now, here they are, acting like they have the first clue about him and Aziraphale.

Crowley, transcending to another astral plane of what-the-fuckery, as Maggie is smug and Nina is busting out The Grumpy One Is Soft For The Sunshine One...

So, when Maggie says that he and Aziraphale don't talk, Crowley is so annoyed by this ridiculousness that he actually answers her in a way that incorporates his and Aziraphale's hidden language, which he knows that Maggie and Nina won't understand-- and that's the point.

Crowley is thinking that, at some point later on when Aziraphale comes back, he and Aziraphale are going to talk about this conversation that Crowley had with Maggie and Nina, as they talk about everything, and when they do, it'll be extra-amusing to them both that Crowley started replying to being told that he and Aziraphale don't talk with the hidden language they invented as a result of talking for thousands of years.

Crowley knows that Aziraphale is going to find these young women giving Crowley romantic advice to be hilarious so he starts using the cant so that he can make Aziraphale laugh later when he tells him how he replied.

Here's where we'll see how we can square "a million years" with "six thousand years" using some of Crowley's wordplay...

Part of the speak is built around word history. The word million comes from the Latin mille and that root word actually means...

...one thousand.

So, if you're wording in Crowley and Aziraphale's nightingales speak and you say millions on the surface, you can actually really be saying thousands on the level of that hidden cant vocabulary.

On the surface to Maggie and Nina, Crowley sounds like he's just exaggerating in saying that they've been talking forever by saying they've been talking for "millions of years"-- and he is also doing that-- but the amount of time is more accurate in the layer of this that is hidden language, where he's saying they've been talking for thousands of years.

That matches what we said above, as the "six thousand years" we've heard them say before is actually, in their speak, the same thing as "millions of years."

But then there's also what talking is to Crowley and Aziraphale and this is when Maggie and Nina's comments get even funnier...

Talking is, as it always is everywhere, communication. To Crowley and Aziraphale, talking is any form of communication with one another. Different scenes show that it can just be openly discussing things without any particular play on words happening-- just regular conversation. It can also be wording each other-- flirting in their speak.

In 1941, Part 2, Crowley is actually using the word talk in that speak to refer to the two of them wording, which Aziraphale had just begun to do in the scene and to which Crowley was replying when he said "talking of improving", instead of the more correct "speaking of improving"...

Talking is all forms of communication and, surprising no one given Aziraphale checking Crowley out while they're wording in the above scene, talking is also sex.

Crowley pushes back against Maggie saying that he and Aziraphale don't talk by saying, with an euphemistic layer barely hidden in there:

"We talk all the time. We've been doing it for millions of years."

With talking = regular talking/wording/sex and millions = thousands, plus: the hilariously juvenile "we've been doing it for millions thousands of years", then when Maggie is all you should tell Mr. Fell that you *like*-like him!, Crowley's response is basically...

He already knows I love him. We say it in a thousand ways when we're talking... which we have been doing, in different ways, since we first met in The Garden. He's been my lover for thousands of years.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #ineffable husbands speak

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fictionalslvr · 1 year ago

Text

Part one. Part three.

SYNOPSIS:"Ghost" is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. You're the only one to be kind with him.

PAIRING: (Based of comic but that's not 100% canon) Simon Riley neighbor x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:3.212k

WARNINGS: Fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) etc.

NOTES:There we go, back to the crying season. I literally cried while writing this one, so i really hope you guys like as much as i did. Remembering, this is the part two of this mini serie. And i HIGHLY recommend to listen to 'happier than ever' by Billie Eilish while reading this.

PREVIOUS PART

It’s been almost a month. Almost a month since Simon appeared at your door, he drinked some coffee with you, had a long talk that showed little things about him. And after he left your door to work, it’s been days since you don’t hear footsteps on the apartment above yours. You can’t help but worry, he said his work was hard, tiring and had big choices. You pace around your house, feeling a weird knot on your stomach, a strange sensation of anxiety consuming you, not seeing his eyes, hot hearing his chuckles, not smelling his unique scent…all of this makes you feel strange, he’s just a neighbor…right? So why are you feeling this way? He’s used to doing this, staying out, working and coming back, he’s fine that’s right. Then why couldn't your heart understand this?

The only thing keeping you calm is your little cat, her fluffy fur on your legs as she brushes herself against you, looking for some caress. You sit down on the couch and sigh, trying to think better and your cat jumps on your lap, purring while your fingers brush her fur gently. It’s almost like she can sense you’re not well at the moment, and tries her best to distract you.

—”You’re a smart kitten, no?” A sad smile flows out, and you can only breathe deep for a moment. You don't know why you’re feeling like this, he’s only your neighbor who’s a bit mysterious, you shouldn’t be worried about him. And yet, your last talk with him made you think all those days about him. He seems like someone who suffered a lot, even if he didn’t tell you what exactly. You can see it, his baggy eyes carrying a sad sparkle on it, like he saw so many things you can’t even imagine. Somehow, you appreciate his bravery, without even telling, you supposed that he suffered, only from his eyes.

He’s always using a balaclava, so there must be a reason for this. Maybe he’s insecure about his face, maybe he just wants to protect his identity for someone, or he just doesn't want people to read his emotions. If the last one is the answer, he’s terribly wrong, because only from his eyes, you could sense how this man carries a lot of weight on his shoulders.

Since when he moved in, you’re caught about his whole figure, everything about him was a mystery, like he can’t really trust anyone. You look around for a while, looking at the pictures on your home, you remember how Simon was staring at them non stop the last time you saw him, his eyes were painful to see, his eyes narrow to the frames as his eyebrows furrowed as your voice called his attention back. Something about family pictures made him perplexed.

It’s weird to say, but damn, you missed him. His raspy voice, his tall figure towering over yours, his short words, his eyes never leaving your face as you talk, he’s a great listener, you could say. Even without knowing much about him, you wanted to see him again, hear his voice, feel his scent, make eye contact, feel this weird human connection you two created quickly. You groan and roll your head back to the couch, staring at the ceiling while your mind don’t stop not even for a second, your mind filled with Simon and everything you noticed about him, like how calloused his hands are, how he seems to be a terrible sleeper, how he looks to hold himself back while he talks, scared he will expose more about his life, how he has a habit of shakes his legs every time, how his eyes don’t stop still, they’re always looking around, as if he’s making sure he’s safe. Every little detail that you could think of, you paid attention to him, like you never did before, you never was this detailed about someone, neither that interested about someone. He has something special, something that curls you up in his hands.

As for Simon? Being on a long mission wasn't that easy. Staying hours awake, the reason why he’s a terrible sleeper, sleeping in uncomfortable tents, thinking only about his objectives all day. It was awful, but, the only thing that reminded him he’s still human, is his friends, his teammates, the only ones he can say some dad jokes sometimes, the only ones who remind him he’s only doing his job, and nothing else, and somehow, that made him feel better. Knowing he’s not alone in this, that he’s not the only one making his hands dirty with blood, the only ones who made him feel less guilty for the blood dripping on his mask. Besides that, sometimes he caught himself thinking of his neighbor, the only one who had the courage to talk to him, that looked him in the eyes, that listened to his short talk, his voice and saw his miserable life. And yet, you don’t even know the whole story, if he did tell you…would you still smile at him? Would you still look him in the eyes? Would you still not be afraid of him? Would you still think he deserves to be loved? Because, he, himself, doesn't think he does. After all he did, all he passed through and lost, he didn't have a chance to be happy and live an ordinary life, he always had to remind how useless he was at protecting his family once, how he was a cowardly kid, how he suffered in dirty hands, how he felt used. Nothing more than a war machine, a big, strong and scary man that everyone frightens, that’s what he is, in his mind. As for you, such a gentle, kind and delicate woman…why would you listen to someone like him? He thinks he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

For now, there he is, stepping back to his apartment, his heavy boots making some noise as he's not even looking at the way he’s doing. It’s always like this when he’s back from a long mission, he felt like he was on automatic. His mask, a bit dirty like his gear, and he had some wounds too. He made his way on the halls, going to the elevator, it’s late, like 4AM.

And a soft voice calls for him before the elevator comes, the creaky wooden door behind him making noise.

—”Simon…?” —It’s your voice, he’s already used to that sweet melody. He doesn’t turn to face you, not wanting to scare you with his actual state.

—”Hello.” —Without noticing, you left a sigh of relief.

—”You’re back. I was worried.” —Your words make him disbelief, he turns to face you, and you can see a mask on his usual balaclava, his eyes widened as his pupils shake.

—”You shouldn’t.”

—”If I could control that. But I couldn't, and I'm happy you’re back." —His eyes fall to your figure, rubbing your eyes as you’re still sleepy, your pajamas from that day, and your voice sounds like honey.

—”What happened to you, Simon?”

—”I was working.”

—’Not this, these wounds…” — Realization crawls up to his mind, you shouldn’t be able to see him like this.

—”Shit.” — He mumbles under his breath and looks away. Your figure walks closer to him, it’s dark to see properly.

—”Please, come in. Let me take care of this for you.”

—”No need, I'm fine, thanks.” —How could he say no to your cute little eyes, looking up and down on his body, looking for every wound. Your fingers go to his arms, gently touching and pulling him inside your apartment. Without a word, he just follows, he could easily get rid of your hands on him, and he didn’t.

You close the door and make him sit on your couch, picking up a med kit in your kitchen, sitting beside him.

—”You’re not going to ask why I'm like this?”

—”Only if you want to say why.” — Your eyes meet him, looking for his approval before you lift up the sleeves of his gear, finding a very bad wound on it, how he wasn’t feeling the pain? He just nods, and you lift his sleeves gently. He loved how caring you are, always searching his approval for everything, even simple things like this. He loves how gentle you were towards a man like him.

—”Then…can we not?”

—”Of course, Simon.”

He always enjoyed how his name would sound in your tongue, in your voice. It made his heart skip a beat everytime. With caution, you clean up his wound, and he doesn't hisses, doesn't frown or groan, he just watches in silence, looking into your eyes all the time. Nothing matters now, not the pain, not the blood, no. Only you, and your kindness.

—”What were you doing awake?”

—”I wasn’t. I heard your footsteps.”

—”How did you know it was mine?”

—”I guessed. You’re the only one who would walk around at this time.” —His dark brown eyes were staring at your face, you looked so concentrated now, even while sleepy like this, you managed to do this. To take care of him.

—”Why are you doing this?”

—”Because I care about you, Simon.”

Those words, it’s been years since he heard it, seem unreal. Why would you care about him? What did he do to deserve such kindness? Is God finally hearing his prays he did when he was young? No, you’re only his neighbor, this is normal…right?

—”Why?”

—"Do i need a reason?" —He only looks away, his head nodding at your words. You were right, you don’t need reasons to do what you’re doing. Though, he really wanted you to have one. He needed you to have a reason to help a man like him.

A comfortable silence creeps in between both, it’s a silence that yells inside, so many questions on both sides, but no one wants to ask it. Simon looks on your window, the curtain flowing and showing the moon bright in the sky, giving him a feeling he never felt before…love, in its truest form, just pure love. Being taken care of like this, he doesn’t even know why he accepted this, normally he would ignore it and go to bed, sleeping only two hours or less. But you, have your gentle fingers wrapping his wound now, gently patching it with a gauze, you had some talent for this, he wondered…have you ever taken care of someone else? Because you seem to be used to this.

—”Well done.” —You mumbles under your breath, your eyelids blink slowly, you’re so sleepy…it’s adorable.

—”Thanks.” —Oh really? Is everything he can mumble after this help? He can’t express anything more than this. Honestly, he didn’t need to, his eyes locked with yours, your body painted with the moonlight and the dark blue sky, and you can see how he feels grateful for you. You smile gently.

—”No need to, I was just worried when I saw you like this.”

Simon sighs, taking off the skull mask on his covered face, leaving only his balaclava as you’re used to.

—”It’s normal for me to get back like this.”

—”With wounds?”

—”Not only on my body.”

—”You know you can’t live like this forever, right?”

—”I always did.”

—”And this will hurt you eventually, Simon. You can’t hide emotions and think everything is okay. They will overflow.”

—”You don’t know me well for this.” —Simon gets up from your couch, his voice getting rougher, and looks at your door. You felt a twist in your guts, he’s worried you might figure him out, because you’re already doing.

—”If you’re being kind only to know my past, forget it. I’m not a storyteller.”

—”Who told you I wanted this? I’m pretty sure it was yourself.” —Now it’s your time to get up and meet his eyes, his eyes can’t lie to you.

—”You’re tricking yourself with this, Simon.”

He hated this, how pretty you look while your skin sparkled with the moonlight, how your eyes made him nowhere to run, how you would read him like a book, even if you two don’t know for a long time.

—”You don’t know me enough to say that.”

—”Being cold won’t keep me away, if that's what you’re trying to do.”

The only thing Simon does is curse under the black silk on his face. He didn’t like to look so predictable, so vulnerable like this. But at the same time, he just wants to be taken care of by you, and only you, no one else. He stays silent for what seems like an eternity, there's nothing else to say. What would he do now? Being cold wasn't going to keep you away, and he knows he will only hurt you, and lose someone like you would be dumb. All of his thoughts were making him dizzy, it was too much, he didn’t feel like this in years, and now it just makes him confused, he doesn't know how to deal with this anymore.

—”Look, Simon, it’s okay. You don’t have to agree with what I say. I just want you to know that even if I don't know you too well, you’re already someone I care about.” —You whispered to him, this tone was enough to bring him back to reality. His heart skips a beat at your words, he didn’t deserve you. At least he doesn’t think so.

—”Do you even realize what you’re saying? I’m a stranger at your house. Aren’t you scared?”

—”Not of you.” —A cute smile spreads on your face, and poor Simon, he feels his legs weaker, his heart melt at the same second.

—”You’re crazy. I can’t understand you.”

He’s being genuine on this, he can’t understand how optimistic you are, how cute, pretty, kind you are. And damn, that hairs of yours, the smell makes him insane, he always tries his best to stay away.

—”And I can't understand you as well, we’re even now.” —Simon can’t help but chuckle in disbelief with your words. Oh God, why couldn’t he have a normal life…by your side if that’s possible?

—”Look, [name], I appreciate the help. I should go now, I already messed up your sleep too much.”

—”Wait…can’t you stay just until i sleep? I can’t go back to sleep alone now.”

—”Uhm…sure.” —He looks away, and you giggle. Quickly, you make your way to the couch again and make yourself comfortable there, laying your body and closing your eyes. He watched every movement, not really wanting to look like a perv or something, he wouldn’t ever want to make you embarrassed.

—”Goodnight, Simon.”

—”Night.” —Simon clears his throat, looking while you find a good position to sleep, you look so peaceful. Maybe having him around makes you feel this way. His eyes are glued to your face, so delicate and calm while you breath slowly, it was an adorable sight, he thought to himself. His thick accent was the last thing you heard before falling asleep, quicker than he thought you would. Simon looks around and sees a blanket on another couch, he takes it and gently puts it above your body, making you nuzzle into it as the cold breeze was a problem your sleeping figure didn’t know it needed help. “How stupid” he thinks to himself, he’s a war criminal, why the hell does he have a soft stop for a person he doesn’t even know the age? His strong arms could rip you apart, since you’re so fragile like this. Correcting himself, he could, but he couldn’t even think of doing it, you’re so delicate, he just wants to protect you, not the contrary. He sighs, and notices he’s been looking at your sleeping figure for a long while now. He walks to your door and holds the handle, but something curls on his legs before he can walk outside, it’s your kitten. That lazy female cat who decided to greet the man on his second visit here, her white and orange fur on his gear.

—”Bloody hell.” — Simon caught himself watching his tone for you, not wanting to wake you up. The little kitten meows while twirling around Simon’s legs, he sighs and rolls his eyes up, one hand holds his mask, the other rubs the cat’s chin with his gloves on, so rough, and yet, bent down to caress your cat.

—”Now…let me leave, lil’one.” — His strong accent keeps there, while he…whispers with your cat. He gets up and opens your wood creaky door with caution, giving a head nod to your cat and closing the door when he steps away.

It’s so hard to leave, to leave that warm, cozy, happy place. To meet his dark and cold home, he can only sigh with the thought. Why is it so hard to leave? Why is his heart throbbing? That’s stupid, he’s not a teenager anymore, he’s a grown ass man that can deal with his feelings, he thinks so. He’s only trying to fool himself into that idea, because he knows when he steps his foot inside his apartment, he will crave for the sound of your voice, your warmth and your damn smile, and mostly, your words. So well chosen like you know exactly what to say to make him fall. You’re clever enough for his rudeness. He knows you will be just below, living your life peacefully and he will get back to his miserable life, alone, with his bad thoughts. If only he was open to his own feelings, he would see how fucked up he is now. Already missing you and wanting to stay by your side. His delusional mind wanders to a life together, you would say him goodbye when he’s out for missions, calls him, send letters, and he would keep a photo of you on his pocket, only so when he’s not motivated, he looked at it and remembers why he’s there, to make you safe. He would come back to your arms and stay beside each other, you would see his face behind that balaclava and smile, knowing the real Simon, while he leaves Ghost on the job.

That’s when he comes back to earth, being on his balcony, his balaclava lifted up a little bit as he smokes, taking a puff of his cigarette and sending it back into the sky with a blow. The breeze makes him shiver even with his gear still on, and the thoughts consume himself.

—"I'm fucked up."— Simon realizes when his thoughts wanders too much. He tosses the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it as his raspy voice talks to himself. Going to bed at 6AM, and not even being able to sleep, because his heart decided to throb about someone he doesn’t even know well, his brain decides to play with his sanity once more. He can’t take this feeling growing inside of him, it’s weird. Simon stares at the ceiling, laying at bed, his hands caressing his chest as he feels pain inside, right on his heart. Not even his patched wound would hurt like this.

What is this feeling...is he...falling in love? You leave him in tatters. And even while he's thinking you're perfect, you still have your problems as well, he's not the only one broken, and he will discover this soon.

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #angst #light angst

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