#Hard to put this kind of thing into words
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how i view simon riley
for a second, let’s just forget everything about him that actually is true and let me lie . . .
simon riley is 6’5” and is chubby with hella muscle underneath. hes got a lot of tattoos covering his arms and hands, and one on his torso thats battered with scars. i like to think he has dark brown hair, its just my type okay? his eyelashes are sooo long and his hands are always washed, he hates having dirty hands.
simon is a good leader, he kind of has to be. he is an amazing man when it comes to his job and his teammates, but when he gets home, thats the only chance he has to just let go. there isnt some persona he has to put on when hes home. his temper gets the best of him sometimes and hes lwk toxic asf.
“baby c’mon you know i didnt mean to, ‘m sorry” — “dont be dumb sweetie you know im busy right now, go somewhere else and leave me alone” — “stop acting like this, im tired of you right now”
but he will always come to bed with you. always kiss you goodnight. always fixes the covers back over you when he gets up in the morning. its not his fault that he just has some anger issues he never got over when he was a kid. simon is either a big teddy bear or a stone wall. hes hard to read on most days but his tone will always give it away. mf has an awful tone problem when hes having a bad day. simon’s words are often harsh when hes having a bad day but his physical nature says the complete opposite.
“just shut up baby, you sound so stupid” he’d groan at you, but at the same time he’d pull you closer into him, kneading your soft skin in his hands gently. as if he is always apologizing after every mean phrase that comes out from those parted lips. and when that hurt whine comes from your lips hes already ‘shh’-ing you and rubbing your side.
my simon riley is infatuated with his sweetheart being all dolled up and dumbed down. he loves himself a stupid dumb girl that just cant do anything by herself. of course he knows hes needed for work, but simon has never felt needed outside of his job title. even if he’d never admit it without some emotional talks, he could cry over the fact that you need him. that something as precious and pure as you needs a man as rough and battered as him. he knows deep down youre not a stupid girl, youre bright and just curious, as he likes to put it. he loves being able to explain simple things to you, loves that you call him because you forget how to turn the oven fan off and how to cut a mango. hes so thankful that hes not needed for life or death situations with you like he constantly is for work.
my simon riley is obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. he is a sucker for breeding. when hes left alone in thought he always, without a doubt, thinks about you having his babies and forever being in his life. he just knows you’d be such a good mom. you are the only person he can even picture caring for his own. your sweet and kind nature on the daily shows how maternal you are and it just makes that soft spot in his heart swell and get bigger every time he pictures it. hes also smitten with your waist line. oh god dont even get the man started on your back dimples and the curves of your hips. simon’s lips are always on your abdomen and tummy.
“gonna have my babies in here one day sweetie, youre gonna look so pretty all knocked up” he mumbles in between warm open-mouth kisses right under your belly button. his heavy fingers digging into the dips of your back as he pulls you inexplicably closer to him.
he really is such a sensitive man under all that scar tissue and bulky muscle. in my head simon is an april taurus sun, pisces moon, and rising gemini. so basically, the taurus in him showcases he has a very rough exterior that is great at displaying leadership and grounding skills, but the pisces on the inside makes him sensitive and he has a lot of emotions, then the gemini in him makes him come across as independent and deceitful at first. i could go on forever about this mans astrology chart.
simon riley who always brags about you to his friends. he’s very careful with talking about you at work though. he would most definitely set the world on fire if anything bad happened to his sweet angel girl. when he’s back from deployment, out at some shitty pub with johnny . . he can’t keep his lips sealed about you.
“i know ‘m gonna marry that girl. i know it, gonna give her my last name and at least four kids . . you wanna know what she made for dinner when i got home from the last deployment?” he rambles to poor soap who just wanted to get out of his apartment.
#.𖥔 ݁ {elora}#✧₊⁺ {💌}#⋆𐙚 {🪽}#.ೃ࿔*:・{🤍}#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley headcanons#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley headcanons#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x f!reader#simon ghost x female reader#simon ghost x f!reader#simon ghost riley x female reader#ghost x female reader#ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#ghost smut#ghost riley#simon riley fluff#simon riley angst
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Home.
Jinx x reader
Summary: set between Act 1 and 2 of Arcane season 2. You find a moment of calm at home with Jinx, Isha, and a stray dog you've found along the way.
Warnings: spoilers for Arcane season 1, tooth-rotting fluff (I hope) not proofread
No use of Y/N, no pronouns used for reader, no gender specific terms etc...
A/N: WHOO first piece of writing by Lev on this blog yippee!! I sincerely hope you all enjoy this lolsies. Please interact! I'm taking requests teehee
You don’t remember the last time you felt this at peace.
It is like a buzzing, filling your chest, lifting you practically off your feet as you make my way home.
This feeling is manufactured- it is not coming from the outside. It comes from deep inside your chest, thrumming happily, snuggled between your lungs, right below your heart. There are reasons for this warmth, this light- well, one reason. Her name is Jinx.
When you say you’re going home, all you really think of is her. Yes, her lair is home- it is warm, and cozy, and as safe as a hot air balloon suspended above what seems to be an infinite void can be- but without her, it would be nothing.
She is the light that fills your chest, with her bright smile and ridiculously long blue hair and perfect pink eyes. She is the weight on your lungs, making it hard to breathe when you think of her. She’s all the cheesy, corny shit the romance authors you hated so as a child wrote. Only instead of being a character, only words on a worn out page, she’s real, and she’s only a two minute walk away from where you are now.
You have a satchel slung over your shoulder, the Dog (you don’t know when it became your dog; it just appeared by your side one day, and hasn’t left since) trotting along beside you. Its fur is matted. You reach down and scratch between its ears as you near the Last Drop, smiling to yourself. Never had you thought you would be living this life- on your way home, supplies for Jinx in your bag, the Dog padding alongside you- it is so domestic, so soft, so clean (despite the grime of the Fissures, the thickness of the air, the moaning of the people crowding the sides of the streets). This life is so unlike anything you remember your parents having.
You take the quick route into Jinx’s lair, the dog following happily, its pink tongue lolling. You should name it, you think as you step onto one of the propellers.
After Silco had died, you had expected the place to fall into disrepair; you had thought the lights would stop twinkling, and the tinny music would stop playing, and the workstations would gather dust until finally the propellers snapped and fell, taking Jinx with them. And yes, that had started to happen. But then, Jinx had met the kid. Isha, you had called her. All of you, huddled around an old, matted baby names book one of you had found at a scrapyard, pointing out names to each other. Isha, the kid had pointed at, a huge, toothy grin splitting her round face. One who protects. You had closed the book then, knowing that it was perfect. Jinx had smiled at you over the newly baptized Isha’s head, and you had smiled right back, squeezing her hand in yours. You had tossed the book down, into the void below.
Now, your home was transformed. Jinx’s creepy dolls were gone, replaced with different colourful toys and gadgets picked out or made by Isha. The walls were covered in crayon drawings of all kinds of things- dragons, flowers, the three of you in fields of green and blue and pink and orange. There was a tent set up in the corner, full of Isha’s belongings. It was where you all slept, huddled together like a litter of cats. You love the place.
At first, you think they’re both out. You call out, and when no answer comes, you venture further in, dropping your bag by Jinx’s workbench. The Dog sniffs around, its tail wagging as it comes closer and closer to an odd lump covered in blankets. You grin to yourself, putting a hand on your hip, tapping your chin with the knuckles of the other. “Hmm,” you muse to yourself, purposefully ignoring the giggle coming from the blankets, “wowie, I wonder where Isha and Jinx could possibly be.” You go in the opposite direction, checking under the workbench, scratching your head. The Dog watches, its eyes saying Can’t you see them? They’re right here! You wink at it, and it sits, tilting its head. “They must have gone out,” you declare loudly as the giggles intensify. “Guess I have this whole place to myself! Finally, I am rid of those stinky-“
As you are talking, you approach the mess of blankets. Before you are able to finish that last sentence, a small orange and blue bundle barrels into your legs, almost knocking you flat on your back. Isha launches herself into your arms, grinning her toothy grin as you spin her around.
“Oh my goodness!” You cry, “where were you hiding? You really are a master sleuth!” Jinx, still have tangled in the blankets, barks a laugh. You hug Isha to your chest and raise an eyebrow at her, mouthing you couldn’t hide anywhere better? She flips you off, but she is smiling.
She stands and joins you and Isha, her hand finding the small of your back, the other going to Isha’s shoulder.
“I have a surprise,” you whisper to the child, “but don’t tell Jinx, mmkay?”
Jinx tilts her head, still smiling. Isha nods solemnly.
“I found waffles,” you breathe, looking at Jinx out of the corner of your eye. Isha gasps and puts her hands over her mouth. Through trial and error, you and Jinx had discovered that the little one seemed to live for waffles. You now went out of your way, as the only one with your face not plastered all over the place, to find the sweet treat.
“Gee, I wonder what the surprise could be,” Jinx says, playing along. She follows as you carry Isha to your bag. You set the kid down, the Dog nuzzling into her hand. You rifle around for a moment, and finally pull out the waffles. Jinx lets out a loud gasp, and Isha turns to her, delighted, pleased with herself that she was able to keep this secret.
“Waffles?” Jinx cries. Isha claps her hands together, startling the Dog.
You all sit together in the tent, sharing the waffles off the same plate. Isha (who thinks she’s being slick) keeps sneaking pieces of her food to the Dog, who delightedly licks it off her hand. She giggles every time, earning an affectionate look from you and Jinx.
Once you have finished the waffles, you push the plate away and lie down. Soon, Isha curls into a ball in the space between your knees and your stomach, settling her head on your legs. Jinx dims the lights, then joins you; the two of you become a protective cocoon around the now snoring Isha. The Dog squishes itself in between you and Isha, resting its head on the kid’s side and looking up at you adoringly. You brush a strand of hair from Jinx’s face and smile. She smiles right back. She’s been smiling so much recently.
“This is perfect,” you whisper to her once you’re sure Isha is fast asleep.
She smiles, but doesn’t answer. One of her hands rests on your waist, and her fingers trace soothing patterns there.
“I thought,” she begins, then stops, frowning. Her other fingers tighten around your hand. “I thought that, with Silco gone, there was nothing left for me.” Her words hurt you; it stings somewhere deep in your stomach to hear that she is in any kind of pain.
“But then… I met the kid,” she continues. “And then I found you.”
You feel an overwhelming wave of affection for the girl lying in front of you then. A girl you had once known what feels like a very long time ago; a girl who had once had blue eyes and the same wide, toothy smile as Isha. A girl who had been part of your distant past, who was now back in your life. She was right; despite having known each other your whole lives, you have really only just found each other.
“And- and I realised that maybe, maybe Silco wasn’t all I needed. Maybe…” she trails off, but she has said enough. You shuffle forwards (careful not to disturb Isha or the dog) so that your forehead is only centimetres from hers. She meets you halfway, pressing her forehead to yours; your noses brush, and you smile, reaching up to cup her face.
“I love you, Blue,” you whisper. A name, who she has always been to you. Blue. Blue like the sky, like the sea. Blue like the warm, the fluttering bird nestled in your chest.
For a moment, you think she is going to cry. But she only pulls you closer, and whispers the same words back to you, your name uttered like a prayer.
You close your eyes and smile, and her breathing slows.
As you fall asleep, you think:
You have never felt this at peace before.
#jinx#jinx arcane#isha arcane#jinx x reader#jinx x y/n#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane league of legends#am i adding too many tags#probably#no use of y/n#sfw#fluff#jinx fluff#powder x reader#i listened to wolf alice while writing this dhmu
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So a while back I ran the numbers to confirm a suspicion that fandom trends towards a trans Tim Drake, and there's a lot of bits and pieces around his canon material that I think contributes to that interest. But there's a particular, subtle one that's been poking at my mind a lot because I think it might actually be a pretty significant factor that nobody really notices:
His costumes.
The original Robin costume, the one Dick and Jason wore, is childish but exposing. It's innocent enough when they're being drawn as spunky children, but during the period when Dick's still wearing it into his late teens and early 20s, it's practically as revealing as a lot of the women's costumes (and, in retrospect, almost certainly laid some of the groundwork for him sometimes being sexualized by the art and writing the way female characters normally are -- George Pérez, at least, absolutely put him on display every bit as much as he did Starfire and Donna).
Damian's costumes, meanwhile, lean more into archaic/fantasy armor designs and are thus largely genderless outside some vague allusions to the codename's Robin Hood roots. And Steph's is, well, a minidress, and one designed to show off her figure, drawing explicit attention to her femininity.
But then you have Tim's most iconic costume, his original one, which is not only fully covering in a way the original look isn't, it also, by virtue of being designed in the 90s, sports a very specific feature: molded body armor shaped to look like pectoral and abdominal muscles. In other words -- an idealized male body.
Not every artist always included that detail, but it was an explicit part of the design that you don't see as much these days, at least not for teen heroes. Which means it's inadvertently the perfect costume for a trans masculine Boy Wonder. It's got built-in body shaping. The cape and tunic layers even help to make his shoulders look wider.
Tim's second costume, the OYL later suit, doesn't explicitly have this body shaping element, but some artists still hint at it in the same way that Dick's Nightwing suits do (ie, we assume they're not showing off their real muscles with skintight suits for safety reasons, but who knows). Plus it comes with the bonus gay longing of changing the colors to mourn the dead crush he's too deep in the closet to recognize.
And then you've got his modern Robin look which has the same kind of shaping going on in a sleaker, more subtle way, though it can vary from artist to artist how much the red part of his suit is drawn as a breast plate vs. a part of the bodysuit.
As a bonus, the design also has a tendency to make him look lean and lithe, in an interesting contrast to Damian who, despite being physically smaller than Tim, tends to have a presence that makes him come across as stockier and more solid, possibly because he's more heavily armored.
You even see this with some of Tim'snon-Robin looks. I've mentioned this elsewhere but, the original Red Robin look making him look older when the cowl was up honestly makes a lot of sense. That suit was originally designed for a Dick Grayson who was pushing 60 to conceal the extent of his age while still communicating his maturity and development. It makes sense that it'd work the other way, to make 17 year old Tim look like he's in his late 20s/early 30s.
It's tunic over a body suit design is also just aesthetically pleasing in terms of forming an elegant male body type, the same way a well-cut suit can be. Again, it does especially nice things for the shoulders, which is why I personally prefer it to the fully bodysuit redesign they give him in the latter part of the series. Although as we can see from the details in Marcus To's art, even that body suit has seams strategically placed to suggest muscles.
And then of course there's the 2016 Rebirth era Red Robin costume, which is just a more heavily-armored version of his classic Robin look that's trying really hard to make him look masculine and mature, which means... exaggerated muscles.
And the thing is, it's not that this doesn't happen with other characters' costumes. But for various reasons it specifically didn't happen with the other Robin costumes, like I described at the start.
Which is not something I think people consciously notice. But I do know that, when I was writing my transmasc Tim fanfic a few years before realizing that I myself was also transmasc, one of the images that solidified the story for me was how good it would've felt the first time a transmasc Tim put on his new Robin costume and saw the Boy Wonder looking back at him. And I remember specifically thinking about how nice the shaped armor would be for that sort of thing.
It's kinda funny how an obvious attempt to enforce gender norms wound up, for lack of a better term, backfiring, at least in my opinion. There's just something about exaggerating the masculinity of Robin, a role designed to contrast and foil the already exaggerated masculine ideal of Batman, that makes it feel like a performance.
#tim drake#robin#batman#batfamily#dc comics#transgender#transmasc#in contrast I'd also argue that Nightwing feels distinctly genderfluid as an identity#even if Dick feels pretty cismale out of costume#if that makes any sense#like. there's just something about the way that Nightwing gets 'gazed' upon that's similar but distinct to how the male gaze views women#and of course no one else moves the way he does#plus the identity was developed as a pair with Starfire who was always taller and stronger than Dick in defiance of gender norms#but he also doesn't feel particularly 'feminine' he's just not exactly a 'masculine' either#he's just 'Nightwing'#whereas Dick Grayson is undoubtedly a man just a different kind of man than Bruce Wayne
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Let us be there for you...
Warning- Angst, insecurity, introvert, self doubts, fluff. Disclaimer- @mrvl-addict finally got all four parts ready for you fic idea.
You’ve been a part of the Avengers for a few weeks now, and on the outside, you’re everything you’re expected to be confident, outgoing, always ready with a joke, never shy to dive into conversation. You make people laugh, you keep things light, you engage in every mission and meeting with the kind of energy that makes you look like you belong.
On the inside, however, you’re terrified. Terrified of being found out. Terrified of not being good enough. On the inside, you’re the opposite of everything you try to portray. What the Avengers see, it’s all just a disguise. You put on a mask, a persona to cover up the real you.
You’ve spent your whole life like this. Putting on this persona in order to feel accepted, to feel wanted. To feel like you belong somewhere. You don’t actually know how to truly be yourself. Being yourself got you bullied, being yourself got you hurt. So you’ve learned to rely on masks.
Every moment spent around people leaves you drained. The constant performance of being the ‘fun one’, the ‘social butterfly’, is exhausting. You’d much rather find a quiet corner to recharge, but you don’t want to be seen as weak, or worse, lonely. So, you push through, hoping no one will notice that you’re barely keeping it together.
Except Steve and Bucky do notice.
It’s a typical afternoon in the Tower. Everyone’s just wrapped up training, lounging around in the common area to catch their breath.
Tony’s in the middle of telling some absurd story about his latest tech malfunction on a mission, his voice animated as usual. You’re on the couch, laughing along, making jokes, throwing in a few quips of your own. After all, you don’t want to be left out.
But as you laugh, you feel a familiar weight at the back of your mind. Steve and Bucky are both watching you from the corner of the room. You glance over, and for a moment, it feels like they’re seeing right through you.
Steve turns to Bucky, his voice low, but not low enough that you can’t hear. “She’s been acting like this a lot lately. It’s like she’s trying too hard to stay in the center of things.”
Bucky doesn’t respond immediately, but his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s weighing his words. “Yeah. I don’t know… she’s doing it, but I don’t think she’s really there.”
You can feel your heart rate quicken, and you’re not sure why it stings. You’re just trying to keep up the persona, to keep everyone happy, make it look easy. And yet, somehow, they see right through it. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, trying to brush off their observation with a grin, moving towards them, “What? What are you both talking about? I’m having a blast, really!”
There’s a brief pause. Steve’s expression softens, and it’s almost too much, the way he looks at you, like he’s reading your every thought. He smiles gently, but there’s an undercurrent of concern. “Of course you are,” he says, his voice warm. “But you don’t have to always be on for us, you know? You don’t have to prove anything.”
You blink, taken aback. For a split second, you feel a wave of embarrassment. It’s like they’ve peeled back the layers, and you’re exposed. You try to laugh it off, but your voice is a little quieter. “No, really, I’m fine. I’m just… just trying to keep things light, you know?”
Bucky, sitting across the room, looks at you with a careful expression. “You don’t have to do that with us, doll…” he says, his tone calm and surprisingly gentle. “We’re not gonna judge you for not being on all the time. If you need a break, or if you just want to… we’re okay with that.”
His words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. It’s not the typical ‘you’re part of the team’ pep talk. It’s something different, something that feels like permission to be yourself, no masks. You feel a rush of gratitude, but also an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. You force a smile, but it’s a little shaky this time.
“I… didn’t mean to put on an act or anything,” you say quickly, suddenly feeling the need to clarify. “I just don’t want to be a drag, you know? I guess I’ve just gotten used to being the one who keeps the mood up.”
Steve’s eyes meet yours, and there’s no judgment there, just understanding. He leans forward slightly, his voice quiet but sincere. “We all have our moments. You don’t always have to be the one holding it together. It’s okay to lean on us.”
Bucky’s nod is almost imperceptible, but you catch it. He doesn’t say anything more, but the look on his face is one of quiet reassurance. He doesn’t expect anything from you, not the way you’ve been expecting from yourself.
You sit back on the couch, feeling a little out of place. For a moment, there’s silence. Then Tony, oblivious to the shift in the room, starts talking again, and you’re grateful for the distraction.
Later that evening, after everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself standing in front of one of the massive windows in the Tower, looking out at the city. The lights are peaceful, calming, and for once, you don’t feel the need to pretend. You’re just… you.
Footsteps sound behind you, and before you can react, Steve’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Hey, you okay?”
You don’t turn around right away, but the warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten. You inhale slowly, then speak softly, your words almost a whisper. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
There’s a pause, and then Steve steps closer. “You don’t have to pretend with us, you know. We’re not gonna expect you to be this... bubbly, confident person all the time.”
You swallow, feeling a flush creep up your neck. It’s embarrassing, this sudden exposure of everything you’ve tried so hard to keep hidden. You turn to face him, and the words catch in your throat for a moment. “I guess… I guess I just don’t know how to be anything else sometimes.”
Steve’s expression softens, his eyes kind. “You don’t have to be anything else. Just be yourself. That’s more than enough for us.”
Bucky’s voice comes from the doorway, quiet but steady. “You’re part of the team. That means we’re here for the quiet moments, too. You don’t have to go through everything on your own.”
You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. There’s a weight in your chest that’s easing, bit by bit. It’s strange to feel like you don’t have to keep up the act anymore. Like, for once, it’s okay to just be.
“Let us be there for you…doll.”
“Thanks,” you say, and this time, you mean it. “I’ll try to remember that.”
There’s a long moment of quiet, and for the first time since joining, you don’t feel like you have to be anyone other than yourself. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a step toward something better.
Part 2-
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𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬t
𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍
𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 ☞︎︎︎ 𒊹︎︎︎𒊹︎︎︎𒊹︎︎︎
SFW
Ok now we need some proper Simon Riley appreciation post. The majority of people (not all of them) think he is some kind of heartless man and would hurt you but that is not the case, YES he is introverted and YES he may be a bit hurtful with his words as a kind of defence mechanism with people he doesn’t know and doesn’t wanna know anything about them, but what about his boyfriend? He would still joke with you and treat you like a friend because a lot of trust is required to be someone’s s/o. Knowing this, we now may be at a cross point: is he a really fond individual or is he just a more casual type? For me, he is more on the casual side. Nothing fancy and nothing too involving for sure but he makes sure to maintain this relationship.
The first time you confessed your love to him he was like: ‘’Oh cool, I have a boyfriend now…is it some kind of friendship?’’. Didn’t know anything about how to be in a romantic relationship as he had been in denial of his feelings for you since the Task Force was formed, and then he straight up walked away.
After he processed everything, you and him took things slowly. At first everything was just as normal as before but now you two knew that behind these ‘’good morning’’ or ‘’stay safe’’ there was something more behind.
At Valentine, since Ghost and the others were on a mission in some remote place lost in the wilderness a thought in his mind crossed and dashed away everything he was thinking of. At the end of it, he came up to you as he had in his blood-stained bare hand a small bouquet of yellow, violet and red local flowers, both tall and small. When you took them in your hands and thanked him wishing back a happy valentine, he swinged your back to make it face the others, who were speaking with the general on the computer screen for breefing, pulled his skull mask up his nose and whispered a low ‘’Such a good boy on the field eh? Following my orders perfectly, I wonder if you can do that in bed too…’’ while sliding his hand under your black t-shirt.
With that he gently placed a gentle kiss on your cheek and went away putting his mask over his face again. He didn’t show it but his mind was a mess of ‘’What the fuck did I do!!! Stupid repressed animalistic thoughts…betraying me like this??’’ and so on. Little did he know that he actually voiced what he wanted deep down. The kisses you two exchanged were always quick and hugs were sparse and sometimes too sudden to even feel anything, not even the other’s warmth, so he unconsciously voiced what he wanted. A small break for the two of you without people interrupting and the need to always be on guard if someone is approaching.
He didn't really call you with pet names such as "my love" or "baby" as he didn't really have a need to use them, but when he discovered you liked them he...kinda had to search online when to use them as he was a mess in all sorts of romantic things. He eventually came to a halt and just gave up so he now had to figure things out for himself. I have to imagine this guy on google or reddit asking on how and when to use them💀.
NSFW
Make out sessions were quick, hell…they left you two frustrated! Everytime things were getting serious a call or a problem with recruits ‘’happens’’ to be there. You two gave each other a look of ‘’I am going to end someone’s life today’’ and parted ways.
The first time he called you a good boy red appeared on your cheeks and small inner jumps of joy filled your love-depravated mind in that moment.
It was a quiet night, finally, some time for yourselves as you had your boyfriend all over you leaving kisses and bite marks. He had you pinned under his weight as a sort of ‘’try and escape this bitch’’ to show off the hard won dominance. His skull patterned balaclava was on his face (the mask stays on during this type of private time, no buts), just above the scarred bridge of his nose, with one hand, he held your upper back down and with the other he supported your stomach area. Usually he was a bit more calm but now he didn’t truly care, he held a steady pace, not that you minded, but you noticed he didn’t let out any kind of sound, just the occasional grunts. But then everything changed as he stopped and lowered himself near your ear: ‘’I wasn’t wrong after all before, eh pup? Such a good puppy for my love? Taking what is yours without uttering a word-’’. If you didn’t scream of joy in the mattress under you now, you didn’t know where and when else. Your cock twitched with enthusiasm and when Simon saw it, he laughed deeply while smiling: ‘’You truly do like it, eh? Being called "pup" or "good boy", I didn’t know, really!’’, you laughed too and put an arm around his head that was on one of your shoulders as you pouted back a ‘’Fuck yes if it comes out your mouth!’’. He gently kissed the area where his head was in agreement and nuzzled the crook of your bare and warm neck. After that round, he promised to call you ‘’pup’’ from time to time since your mouth curled up in pure joy every time he said that, of course… only when you two were alone and maybe very lowly and near your ear only when Price was around and wasn’t really listening (he is the only one who knows about you too).
#cod x male reader#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x male reader#ghost x you#gay#simon riley x male reader
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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 02, 𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨
“Some things are better left unsaid.”
rosie’s note: hi :), sooo don’t yell at me y’all know i’m sensitive, but yes apologies this was supposed to come out wayyy sooner but i’ve had a lot going on with my personal life i barely had time to write but luckily i finished this up! ik almost people were confused on the cliffhanger so i hope i explained it well in this chapter :) happy reading lovelies 💌
pairing: Paige x Azzi
themes: hurt/comfort, guilt, angst
enjoy!!!
march 21, 2014
The cursor blinked at me, expectant. Judging.
Her name sat on the tip of my tongue. Not the one she introduced herself with, not the nickname she had tossed at me under the swing set like it was armor. Her real name. The one she’d trusted me with just days before everything shattered.
I hovered over the keyboard. How many times had I visited this account in the past two months? More than I could count. The anonymity she clung to should have been enough to keep me from connecting the dots. But the username—UnicornPuppy35—was a clue I couldn’t ignore, not after that rainy night, not after the slippers and the shirt that practically screamed it.
Azzi.
The realization should have made me stop, made me put down my phone and walk away. She didn’t know it was me. She didn’t know I was the one lurking, soaking up every word she wrote, piecing together her sadness, her anger, her loneliness. And she couldn’t find out—not like this.
If she did… God, if she ever found out, I wasn’t sure what would happen. She’d hate me more than she already did, and I couldn’t stand to see that look on her face again.
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. The memory of her tears still burned, sharp as glass.
flashback ⤑ february 13, 2013
The rain came down hard that night, the kind of downpour that soaked through your skin and left you raw.
I didn’t know why I left the house. Maybe it was the yelling, or maybe it was the silence that followed. Either way, I ended up at the park. The swings creaked under the weight of the wind, and the only other person there was huddled on one, head bowed as rain dripped from her curls and onto her bright pink unicorn shirt.
I almost walked away. She looked like she wanted to be alone, and honestly, so did I. But something stopped me—a tilt of her head, maybe, or the way her shoulders shuddered even as she sat still.
“Hey,” I said, stepping closer. The ground squelched under my shoes.
She looked up, startled. Her eyes, wide and brown, met my baby blues for half a second before darting away. “What do you want?”
I hesitated, shrugging. “Nothing. Just… didn’t think anyone else would be out here.”
Her laugh was bitter, like she didn’t believe me. She didn’t say anything else, just looked back down at her feet, the tips of her sneakers brushing the muddy ground.
I should’ve walked away. Instead, I sat on the swing next to her.
Over the next two weeks, those nights at the park became a ritual. When the lights in our houses went out, we met under the cover of darkness, sharing pieces of ourselves with kind of fully unraveling almost everything.
She told me about the girl at school—the one who dunked her head in the toilet and called her the f-slur. Her voice cracked when she said it, and my chest ached with something I didn’t quite understand.
“She’s just a bitch,” I said, reaching out without thinking. My hand landed on her shoulder, the fabric of her hoodie rough and wet under my palm. “You didn’t deserve that.”
She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at me either. “It’s not just her,” she muttered. “It’s… everyone.”
The night Azzi told me about the girl at school, something in her broke. Her voice cracked, a sharp edge slicing through the usual monotone she used when talking about her day.
“I didn’t even do anything,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. Her breath came out in shivers, her curls dripping rainwater down her back. “She just—she said I was looking at her skirt, and the next thing I know, I’m—”
Her voice wavered, and she stopped. She didn’t have to finish. I could picture it: the cold porcelain, the laughter, the humiliation.
“She has to be insecure or something,” I said quickly, fumbling for the right words. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Azzi. She’s just taking her misery out on you.”
Azzi didn’t look convinced. Her lip trembled, and she pressed her face into her knees, hiding the tears I knew were falling.
I sat there, helpless. I wasn’t good at this—comforting people, saying the right thing. But I didn’t want her to feel alone.
“You wanna egg her house?” I joked, my voice soft. “Or, I don’t know, slash her parents tires?”
She huffed a wet laugh, the sound muffled by her hoodie. “She’d probably call the cops.”
“She’s a snitch, too?” I gasped dramatically, hoping to coax another laugh out of her. “That’s it. We’re definitely egging her house.”
Azzi peeked up at me, her eyes red and puffy but lighter somehow. “You’re stupid,” she said, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.
——-
A few nights later, that’s when things fell apart.
I was at the park first, waiting for Azzi, when a group of girls from my neighborhood showed up. I didn’t know them well, but they were loud and funny in that kind of way that made you want to laugh along just to fit in.
We were sitting on the picnic table, their chatter filling the silence, when one of them asked, “Hey, Paige, why do you always hang out with that girl?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Who?”
“You know, that Azzi girl,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Nobody hangs out with her.”
My stomach twisted. “Why not?”
The girl snorted. “Her mom’s, like, weird. Always with a new boyfriend or whatever. It’s embarrassing. She’s just a weirdo and looks weird.”
My jaw tightened. Before I could respond, another girl chimed in, laughing. “And her hair! It’s like, doesn’t she know what a brush is?”
The table erupted in laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in. I glanced at the path leading to the swings, my heart sinking.
“Paige,” a voice said behind me.
I froze.
Azzi stood there, her face pale and her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her mouth opened, then closed, and she shook her head, stepping back as if I’d physically struck her.
“Azzi, wait—” I started, scrambling off the table, but she was already turning away.
“Don’t,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Just… don’t.”
I ran after her, catching her arm as she reached the edge of the park. “Azzi, I wasn’t—”
“Wasn’t what?” she snapped, whirling around. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her voice rising in anger. “Wasn’t laughing at me? Wasn’t sitting there while they trashed me?”
“I didn’t say anything!” I protested, my chest tight.
“That’s the problem!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “You just sat there, Paige. You didn’t even try to stop them, you let them say those things.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck in my throat.
“Forget it,” she muttered, yanking her arm free. She wiped at her face angrily, her curls sticking to her cheeks. “I should’ve known better.”
“Azzi, come on,” I pleaded, my voice softer now. “It’s not like that—”
“What’s it like, then?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty clear. I just don’t understand after all those nights I cried to you P.. how could you?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. By the time I found the words, she was already gone.
present day 2014
It’s been weeks since Azzi and I started talking online, just the two of us, anonymously. We’ve gotten comfortable—well, as comfortable as we can with the fake names and hidden identities. I try not to think about the lies I’m keeping from her, but I know deep down it’s the only way I can stay connected to her. She has to trust me, or she’ll leave. And I can’t handle that. Not again.
It’s the last day of school, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement as I head to the bus. I can’t wait to get home, and send Azzi a message—anything really. I don’t care if it’s about her puppy or the weather or something ridiculous. I just want to talk to her.
I find a seat on the bus and pull out my phone. As the bus rumbles on, I open up Blogspot. I scroll through the messages Azzi and I exchanged earlier, just before school started. I can’t help but laugh at the part where she told me her dog, Stewie, peed in her shoe. That image—her tiny, brown wiener dog peeing in her brand new sneakers—was so perfectly her. Her humor, her frustration, her charm.
I giggle, but then it hits me. The guilt. It crashes over me, sudden and sharp, like a wave I didn’t see coming. My thumb freezes over the screen, hovering over the keyboard. I look at the conversation, at the funny banter we shared this morning, and my chest tightens. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.
If she knew who I really was, if she knew the truth about why I was pretending to be someone else… she would never look at me the same way again. She’d leave me. She would never trust me again.
I feel the tightness in my chest grow, and I look out the window, trying to distract myself. But it’s no use. The guilt is like a weight on my shoulders, pressing down harder the longer I sit with it. Every word I’ve typed to Azzi, every moment I’ve shared with her—it’s all a lie. And I hate myself for it.
But I can’t stop. I can’t let her go again. It pained me the first time…it won’t happen again.
I stare at the phone in my hand, biting my lip. What if she finds out? What if she figures it out before I can come clean?
What if? What if? What if?
The thought is too much. I set the phone down on my lap, staring out the window, hoping the weight in my chest will ease.
A few minutes later, my phone vibrates in my lap. A new message.
unicornpuppy35: p, i just got home and stewie’s tryna eat my shoelace again. i swear this dog’s scheming.
I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. My thumb hovers over the screen again. I want to reply, want to send something funny, something comforting, but all I can think about is how this isn’t real. None of it is real.
boogers_p: obviously. stewie’s prolly like, “shoelaces are phase one. world domination’s next.”
unicornpuppy35: no fr, this little dude really thinks he runs the place.
boogers_p: i mean… does he not? u literally pay rent in shoelaces and snacks.
unicornpuppy35: and socks. don’t forget the socks. he got one of mine this morning smh.
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh too loud as I typed back.
boogers_p: rip to the sock. gone but not forgotten.
The typing bubble popped up and disappeared a few times before finally settling on:
unicornpuppy35: ur so ridiculous, p. u know that?
boogers_p: i’ve heard rumors.
I paused, smirking at the screen. Then, a thought hit me, and her fingers flew over the keyboard.
boogers_p: ok, real question. what’s stewie short for? or did u just look at him and go, “yup, that’s a stewie”?
There was a pause before Azzi’s response came through.
unicornpuppy35: named him after breanna stewart.
I blinked at the screen, my smile softening. Of course she did.
boogers_p: oh damn, respect. stewie’s a legend fr but no surprise you chose her.
unicornpuppy35: p, language. and duhh, hence the name.
boogers_p: my bad my bad, but u really said, “lemme name my dog after greatness.” iconic move, puppy.
I knew the nickname would get to her. It always did. The reply came fast.
unicornpuppy35: stop calling me that!!!
boogers_p: nah. it fits too good. also, it’s cute. like u.
Shit. There was a long pause before I saw the typing bubble flicker again.
unicornpuppy35: u really know how to get on my nerves, huh?
boogers_p: talent, tbh.
Azzi’s response came slower this time:
unicornpuppy35: sometimes i wonder why i even talk to u.
Paige snorted, her thumbs moving fast.
boogers_p: cuz i’m funny. and charming. and u lowkey love me. just admit it.
The reply took a moment.
unicornpuppy35: …maybe stewie loves u. that’s as close as ur getting.
I barked out a laugh, the sound drawing a curious glance from the kid across the aisle.
boogers_p: i’ll take it. tell stewie i’m his #1 fan.
unicornpuppy35: he’ll probably steal another shoelace to celebrate.
boogers_p: a king. truly.
I stared at the screen for a second longer, my chest feeling warm and tight in a way I couldn’t even describe.
unicornpuppy35: u good, peanut? u seem kinda off lately.
My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, my mouth forming into a small smile at my nickname. Azzi always asked. I didn’t know how she managed to carry so much and still notice the little things about me. God.
boogers_p: yeah, i’m straight. just tired, you know?
unicornpuppy35: don’t let it get to u p. me and stewie got ur back.
Paige swallowed the lump in her throat, her reply coming slower this time.
boogers_p: thanks, puppy. u and stewie the real mvps fr.
Pup- I mean Azzi’s reply was just a string of eye-roll emojis, but I could picture the grin on her face. I wish I could just see it for myself.
boogers_p: love u too.
So much.
I send the message, knowing I can’t keep lying forever. But for now, I’ll hold on.
——-
Paige walked into her room, shutting the door with a quiet click, as if any louder might let her thoughts escape into the world. Tossing her bag into the corner, she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her clothes, leaving a trail toward the bathroom. The hot water scalded her pale skin, but she barely noticed, the familiar ache in her chest louder than the pounding spray.
When she came out, dressed in an oversized T-shirt, her damp hair sticking to her neck, she flopped onto her bed. She should sleep. She needed sleep. But instead, her hand reached for the scrapbook tucked under her nightstand.
Opening it, her heart clenched as she stared at the first photo—Azzi on the swing set, caught mid-laugh, her curls bouncing wildly as she leaned over, her dimple deepening with every giggle. Paige could still hear the sound of it, bright and free, almost as if Azzi were right there in the room with her.
The second photo wasn’t much better. Her and Azzi at the diner for her 15th birthday, Azzi’s arm slung around hers like it belonged there. Paige could almost feel the ghost of Azzi’s touch, the warmth of her hand on her arm, the way Azzi’s voice would soften when she scolded her for cussing too much.
She flipped the page closed before she started crying again. It didn’t help.
Her fingers brush over the closed scrapbook, tracing its edges. She knows it’s pathetic to feel this way, to let herself get so tangled up in someone who probably doesn’t even think about her anymore. It’s dumb, she knows that. But it doesn’t change the way her heart clenches at the thought of Azzi laughing somewhere else, with someone else, as if Paige never mattered.
Because the truth is, she’s never felt this way about anyone before. Not like this. Not about their friendship, or whatever it used to be. Friendship doesn’t even seem like the right word anymore. It feels too small, too simple for something that made her feel whole in a way nothing else ever has.
Will you miss me, Azzi? Paige swallows hard, her jaw tightening as tears blur her vision again. Will you miss what we had? Because I do. I miss you so much it hurts. It fucking hurts.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes closing as the words spilled from her heart. God I think I’d miss you even if we never met.
Paige dragged a hand over her face, trying to will the tears back, but they came anyway, hot and relentless. She clutched the scrapbook tighter to her chest. I miss you. Every day. Every second of every day. I miss you so much it’s pathetic.
She let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob halfway through. “It’s so dumb,” she muttered, shaking her head. But no matter how many times she said it, it didn’t make it any less true. It’s the realest thing she’s ever felt.
Because no one had ever made her feel like Azzi did. Not before, not since. She wasn’t sure anyone ever would.
She wipes at her face, but the tears won’t stop. Because no matter how much she misses Azzi, Paige knows it’s her fault she’s gone. She clings to the scrapbook, the pictures inside the only pieces of Azzi she has left. And as much as it hurts, she knows she deserves this. Every ache, every tear, every lonely second.
Because she let her go. And that’s something she can never take back.
——-
Azzi sat quietly in the backseat, her hands clammy as she rubbed them over her shorts, trying to calm the nerves that had been with her all morning. Her brothers had hyped her up about making the team, calling her the coach’s “princess,” but it didn’t help. She was still terrified. What if she didn’t make it? What if she wasn’t good enough?
She whispered to Stewie, who was in her lap, his small body a source of comfort. “What if I don’t make the team, huh? I know it’s stupid, but it keeps running through my mind… what if I mess up?”
Her mom glanced back at her from the front seat, a soft smile on her face. “You’ll do fine, Azzi. You always do.”
But Azzi couldn’t shake the unease, the thoughts spinning in her head as the car pulled into the gym parking lot. Her stomach twisted into knots, and her heart raced in anticipation. They arrived early, her mom wanting to meet the coaches first, so Azzi was the first one there.
She stepped out of the car, still trying to calm her breathing. As her mom led her inside, Azzi forced herself to smile and greet the coaches, though her mind was a hundred miles away. She excused herself once the introductions were made, eager to find the locker room and settle in before tryouts started.
The gym was empty when she walked in, the silence amplifying her every step. She meandered down the hall, her fingers grazing the walls as she took in the pictures of past players, their smiles frozen in time. She felt her nerves rise again, the pressure of what was to come weighing on her.
But as she rounded a corner, her body collided with something—or rather, someone.
“Sorry!” Azzi blurted, quickly stepping back. But when she looked up, her breath caught. There, standing in front of her, was Paige. She froze, heart pounding in her chest. Her mind screamed for her to move, to say something, anything, but her body just wouldn’t cooperate.
Paige stood there too, her mouth slightly open in disbelief, her eyes wide. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, almost as if the world had shifted, Paige finally spoke her name.
“Azzi?” she whispered.
Azzi’s stomach churned, but she couldn’t stop staring at her. How? How could she be here? How had she found her, of all places? This wasn’t supposed to happen, not here, not now. Not ever.
But Paige was looking at her like she hadn’t missed a beat, like the time apart hadn’t meant anything. Azzi could see the recognition in her eyes, the same as she felt in her chest.
It was instant. Her face was older now, sharper, but it was still her. Those blue eyes. The way she stood. Even the slight tilt of her head when she was unsure of herself. Azzi hadn’t expected it to hit her this hard.
A year ago, she swore she’d move on. Swore that she’d forget what Paige meant to her. But now, standing here, all she felt was the sharp twist of memory and the burn of anger.
How could she not recognize her? Paige had been the first person to make her feel seen, to make her feel like she mattered. But she had also been the first person to hurt her more than anyone else had. Azzi couldn’t forget that. Not the way she laughed with her, not the way she’d come after her with apologies she could never quite believe.
Azzi had convinced herself she was past it. Past Paige. But now, here she was, staring at her as if nothing had changed. It was too much, too fast. Does she really think I’ve forgotten?
Paige stepped forward, her movements tentative, unsure. Azzi almost wanted to take a step back, to run, but she couldn’t move. She stood there, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing in on her.
“Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice almost hesitant.
Azzi blinked, her heart racing. She forced herself to act like she didn’t know her, even though everything inside her screamed that she did. “Sorry,” Azzi said, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “Do I know you?”
——-
rosie’s note: well..yeah!
taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
@thaatdigitaldiary @pattyshome @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @ohbueckers @imaginespazzi @pazzilover101 @makethemhoesmad @d3arapril @pboogerswbb @kmoneymartini @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme
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Are your requests open? Could I ask for Optimus dating a human for the first time? SFW and/or N$FW is ok ♥️
Since you didn't specify, I'm going for a vaguely G1/Prime vibe. Forgive errors, i typed this on my phone since I'm visiting fam for holidays.
He was pretty slick about it, asking you to accompany him on a scouting mission. Prime doesn't scout. But all you thought was how nice it would be to spend some time with the big boss himself. After all, you both had confessed attraction to each other. With him admitting an odd interest in you, and you letting it slip he was rather nice to look at. Even if nothing came out of it, it was nice to clear the air. And the fact he didn't avoid you after meant more than you could say. He was still nice to look at.
The sound of his engine and the radio mixed with your humming. You didn't know the lyrics, but the tune was close enough. Sitting in the passenger seat while his holoform occupied the driver's. It still felt odd to talk to it... him, through it, so you stared out the window when you did.
"What are we on the lookout for?" You ask, glancing at mountains in the distance. He was quiet. Longer than any leader-like contemplation you were used to. "Prime?"
His voice interrupts the music, "I have not been entirely honest with you y/n." He sounds remorseful, and you feel a clench in your heart, "we are not here to scout, nor are we here for any sort of mission."
You fidget with the edge of the seat. What could have Prime lying and feeling so bad about it?
"After our conversation the other day, i did some thinking-"
Oh shit. Did you make him uncomfortable?
"-I believe it best to-"
"Prime, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so forward. It just slipped out." You interrupt, trying to smooth over whatever wrinkles you caused.
"Please allow me to finish." He says with that stern but patient tone. The engine shifts, and he pulls onto a side road, "I wish to apologize for not acting sooner, I simply wished to ensure I moved forward properly. I believe the next step on earth is a date to explore our mutual interests?"
A what?
He continued talking about the research he did and how it was similar to cybertronian customs, but it seemed to move faster in comparison. You listened, still processing what this meant.
"Wait... so..." You put a hand to your face as you focus, "this isn't a scouting mission. It's a date?"
"Correct." Prime affirms He turns off again to another side road. This one flanked by trees that get more and more dense, "I apologize for the deception, and for the lack of activity. It's hard to find such things to accommodate our coupling."
His choice of the word coupling made you chuckle, and cheeks go warm, "N-no Prime this... is pretty clever, actually." Glancing at the driver seat, you make a face, "but for the love of god, please get rid of that thing."
You can feel the rumble of laughter in his engine before it flickers and dissipates.
Prime is the kind of bot to really want to get to know you. And you love the idea of one on one time with him. A long drive in solitude is the best way to get to know each other. Open up about some things. Share hopes and what you would want from such a strange relationship.
The nerves subsided quickly. It felt natural. it felt good to talk to him. It felt like he listened and was honest when he spoke.
He stops for you to grab some food, seeing as you both got lost in the conversation and were out far longer than expected. Optimus apologized for not thinking of that even after all the research.
You lean against the window, smiling at the stars. He's telling you a story about how he once woke from recharge to find energon stacked in front of his door. The deep voice lulling you to sleep. It felt appropriate for him to take the long way back.
N$fw vauge at most.
Perhaps this date turned into another. And another. A date here and there. He thought it cute when you kissed his dash before getting out of the cab. NO, you absolutely would not kiss the holoform, but caved when he would use it to hold your hand as you got out of the cab. Only on the cheek, of course.
You would call Prime a gentleman, but there was no missing the way his engine sounds like it stalls when you sit in the passenger seat; asking if this date was when you should invite him inside. His voice sputters about more research and compatibility.
"Shame, you don't have a bed in the back prime." You say while one hand runs down your body, "could really put it to use now."
You notice the way he speeds up as you continue touching yourself, engine thundering down the road. Hopefully, there aren't any state troopers.
There is a shyness to your actions, hoping he doesn't dislike this. Not to mention how odd it is to perform with no audience. Not that you want the holoform now. It would kill the mood more than anything. He can sense your body heating up, and each time you trip over your words, trying to be sexy, his engine purrs. Slowly unbuttoning your top has him wishing he could transform and feel you with more than the sensors in his cab.
"You're beautiful." He says as you shimmy out of your pants. The human form was alien , yet familiar. Soft forms on a Cybertronian like frame. "Beautiful..." he says as you part your thighs and lips. "Beautiful." He whispers when you bring yourself to the edge. That deep voice confessed how he had thought about this. How you would look. What he wants to try. Promising it to be his hand, somehow, to bring you here next time.
But first he needs to look into a new altform. Somthing with a bed in the back.
#transformers x human#transformers x reader#optimus prime#optimus prime x reader#optimus prime x human
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Give me Rook who is struggling to grieve and is angry with the world
Crow!Rook
Spoilers for Veilguard
It really was a funny thing, when you thought about it—the Demon of Vyrantium, Lucanis Dellamorte, half-asleep against your legs. The same man who scoffed at the very idea of rest, claiming he never truly slept. And yet, here he was, his features softened by the edge of dreams, his breathing steady as your fingers threaded through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. It was peaceful, in a way that felt stolen—like a moment ripped from a story you had no right to claim.
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this kind of calm. Not since you’d been pulled into this whole tangled web of gods and schemes. A bitter laugh caught in your throat at the thought. Would it be wrong to admit how angry you were about it all? At Solas? At Varric? Especially Varric. The bastard. For dragging you into this mess, for making you care so damn much. For giving you a name—Rook—and then vanishing, leaving you to deal with it all alone. You knew it was grief talking, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. Damn Varric and his stupid, sentimental names. Damn him for seeing something in you and putting a label on it that you couldn’t shake. And damn him most of all for leaving you behind.
You swallowed hard, forcing the sadness back down before it could claw its way to the surface. That wasn’t a luxury you could afford—not here, not now. A Crow’s first lesson: never let them see what you’re feeling. You’d learned it well. Too well, maybe. Even Viago had grumbled more than once about how impossible it was to read you. A damn fine Crow, indeed.
But fine Crows didn’t sit around like this, did they? Stroking the hair of a man who had somehow, against all odds, become too close to your heart. A man like Lucanis, who could slip a blade between your ribs as easily as he breathed. Not that you believed he’d ever do it—not now, not to you. He was too close, too vulnerable. And you were no better, your guard lowered in ways that would have once terrified you. It was almost endearing, really, if you ignored how dangerous it was. For both of you.
You sighed, shifting slightly, and Lucanis stirred, his brow furrowing before he relaxed again. The warmth of him seeped into your legs, keeping you in this fleeting moment that could end at any given time. You’d never admit it aloud, but maybe you didn’t mind it. Maybe, for once, you could let yourself have this. Just for a little while longer.
Because who knew when the next storm would hit?
Your fingers paused for a moment, hovering just above his hair. “I thought you didn’t sleep,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lucanis grumbled something unintelligible, shifting again so that his head rested more firmly against your lap. “I don’t,” he said after a beat, though his voice was sluggish, the words drawn out. “This isn’t sleeping. It’s... resting. There’s a difference.”
You snorted softly, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Sure, because this is so different from sleeping. Next, you’ll tell me you don’t dream either.”
“I don’t,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it, just the lazy drawl of someone too close to sleep to argue properly. “Dreams are for the dead. And Spite.”
“Charming,” you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “And yet here you are, practically drooling on me.”
He opened one eye, pinning you in place. “If I drooled, Rook, you’d be the first to know.” His lips curled into a faint smile before the eye slid shut again. “You’re too good at reminding me.”
Your fingers resumed their lazy path through Lucanis’s hair, less to soothe him and more to distract yourself. “You’re lucky you’re cute like this,” you said, letting the teasing edge into your voice. “Otherwise, I’d shove you off and call it a mercy.”
“Cute?” He scoffed, though it came out more like a rumble. “If you think this is cute, you’ve got terrible taste.”
“Better than none at all,” you shot back, earning another quiet grunt. He didn’t respond further, his breathing evening out again, and you were struck by how utterly still he seemed. It was unnerving, seeing someone like him so vulnerable. The pride of house Dellamorte, who always carried himself like he was a moment away from striking. The Demon of Vyrantium, who’d slit a man’s throat before he’d let anyone close enough to see him like this.
But here he was, trusting you with this fragile piece of himself.
Your fingers slowed, your gaze drifting. “You know, I used to hate silence,” you admitted quietly, not really expecting a response. “Too much room for thinking. For remembering.” You swallowed hard, the words threatening to stick in your throat. “But now? Sometimes I think it’s the only thing keeping me sane.”
Lucanis shifted, his head nestling slightly deeper into your lap, and for a moment, you thought he’d finally slipped fully into sleep. The room settled around you, quiet save for the soft rhythm of his breaths. But then a voice—low, guttural, and unmistakably not Lucanis.
“Silence. Is luxury. Enjoy it. While it lasts.”
Spite.
Your eyes flicked down, half-expecting some shift in the demon’s form, but Lucanis didn’t move, not even a twitch. Instead, you could’ve sworn the faintest rumble, like a purr, came from him. The thought of it almost made you laugh.
“Guess that answers whether or not you’re awake,” you muttered under your breath, though Spite didn’t bother responding. It wasn’t like he cared about conversation unless it served his purpose. “Oh, I’m sure silence won’t last,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not with rampaging gods breathing down my neck. Not with everything falling apart.”
Lucanis—or rather Spite—opened his eyes, just a sliver, those unnerving purple irises locking onto yours. There was something uncomfortably knowing in that gaze, something that made your stomach twist even though you knew Spite wasn’t a threat to you. At least, not right now.
“Then don’t. Fall apart. With it,” Spite said simply. “You are better. Rook.”
The nickname made something shift. You weren’t sure whether to feel comforted or suffocated by it anymore. But before you could decide, Spite’s presence seemed to wane, the glow of his eyes dimming as Lucanis stirred, letting out a soft grunt. For a fleeting moment, you thought he’d woken fully, but no. He merely shifted, his head turning slightly, and let out another one of those quiet, almost purring noises.
You shook your head, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Great. I’m getting pep talks from a demon now,” you mumbled. “How far have I fallen?”
There was no answer, not from Lucanis—nor Spite, either. It left you alone with thoughts you weren’t ready to face.
#✨️by yours truly✨️#dragon age#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age x reader#dragon age the veilgaurd x reader#lucanis dellamorte#lucanis x rook#lucanis x reader#rook#crow rook#rook de riva#da#datv#dav#spite
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No Man's Land |12|
Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader
Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.
Warnings: Talks of Killing, Talks of Murder
Word Count: 2.5k+
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
Tara ran off almost instantly after Mindy said the shrine would be the killers lair, then pointed out this wasn’t a normal Stab movie. Sam moved to go after her sister, despite trying to play everything as normal and as if the attack last year changed nothing, she knew Tara was struggling. Kirby waved her off though and said she’d check on Tara herself. Sam frowned but she knew it was probably better if Kirby went, she had been through this before and every time Sam tried to talk to Tara it almost always ended in an argument.
Sam turned back to the display case that contained the cloak of Billy Loomis. Her eyes trailed from the white mask down to the blood knife at the bottom. So, many lives were ruined just by Billy putting on a stupid costume. She wasn’t sure who could possibly be after them this time, though she didn’t expect her boyfriend to be the bad guy last time either. Whoever was coming after them did their research though, they had everything from each of the Ghostface attacks, going back all the way to the very beginning. She noticed there was even a small display about Sidney’s mom, the murder that started it all.
Sam didn’t know how to protect everyone. Two random kids were killed, which Sam couldn’t care too much about because they were apparently planning to kill her and her sister, but then she was attacked at the gym, she only survived because of you. Since then, the attack at the bodega and then the attack at the apartment, everyone had only survived because of you. She didn’t know where they’d be without you, who else would be dead. She knew she still had to be cautious around you, but you were proving more and more that you were trustworthy and nothing like Richie.
The floor creaked behind her, and she froze. She slowly lifted her head to see you through the glass, standing behind her. You hadn’t said a word, you hadn’t pressed her for answers too hard, answers you rightly deserved. She owed you an explanation about everything, who she was and why this was all happening. You knew who she was, but Sam owed it to you to tell you everything from her own mouth.
“Are you okay?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.
Sam turned around and saw you looking at her with nothing but concern. She wasn’t sure how you could see all of this, see this mess that went all the way back to her birth father and not flinch. There was still no judgement in your eyes, you were looking at Sam with the same kindness you always had. Your first question since seeing all this wasn’t to demand an explanation or ask who any of these people were, you just asked if she was okay, you truly were too good for her.
“Why are you still here?” Sam asked as she spun around. “You’ve been cut and stabbed,” she gestured at you. “Shot at, almost died three times all for some stranger who goes to your gym.” She shrugged, you might have been too good for her, but you also seemed to be crazy.
You only smiled at her words, making her furrow her brow. Maybe you really were her type, you were definitely crazy. “I assure you; this is nothing compared to what I’ve been through,” you said. “And you’re not just some girl from my gym anymore, I think I know you well enough to not want you to get murdered.”
Sam shook her head. You were military, special forces at that, you had definitely seen some things. With the way you handled yourself, first with the knife, then the gun, and then even in the apartment you used your surroundings to your advantage, nearly choking Ghostface out with a curtain. You could more than handle yourself, Sam could only imagine what you would do with the right equipment and an actual plan instead of getting caught off guard. But this wasn’t some war zone, you were at home, you shouldn’t be fighting for your life like this.
“You don’t know me,” Sam mumbled. “Not really, but if you insist on sticking around you should probably know what you’re getting into.” Sam walked across the stage and took a seat, letting her legs hang off the edge. You slightly followed after her, taking a seat right next to her but leaving enough space so the two of you weren’t touching.
Sam stared across the theater, Ethan was walking around, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked around, Bailey stared at a few of the displays, furrowing his brow at the sight of some things. She looked to the side to see Gale staring longingly at one of the displays, Sam could only assume it had something to do with Dewey. Then there was Mindy, crouched down as she tried to comfort Anika off to the far end, with Chad standing a couple feet away, his arms crossed as his own eyes scanned over the group.
Sam clenched her hands into fists. She had heard a bunch of crap about her life and her family ever since that world learned the truth. She had known the truth since she was a teenager, she had spoken the words more than once. For some reason just opening her mouth to tell you seemed impossible. You could go online right now and find several articles talking about what she was about to tell you, saying the words out loud shouldn’t be a big deal.
“Whatever you say,” you said, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. “I promise you; it won’t change anything.”
Sam glanced at you and saw nothing but patience and understanding in your eyes. No one could really say nothing would change until they knew whatever it was, but you truly believed what you were saying. Sam knew she shouldn’t doubt you, you knew the rumors, you knew the basics, and you still stuck around. Everyone who learned the truth though ran and when they didn’t run it was usually because they had an ulterior motive, or they betrayed her.
“When I was younger, I learned my father wasn’t who I thought he was,” Sam let out a shaky breath as she got started. “My real father is Billy Loomis.” She could hear you suck in a breath at the name. “He’s the one who inspired all this,” she gestured around the room. “A year ago, my sister was attacked, by her best friend.” Sam shook her head, there were times she still couldn’t believe last year happened. Amber had never liked her growing up, but she always just figured Amber was an angry kid, she never imagined the girl would be a serial killer.
“Turns out it was all a ploy to lure me back home,” Sam let out humorless chuckle. “My now ex,” she wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t believe she had fallen for Richie, he had been so sweet and charming, that should have been the first indicator that something was wrong with him. “Set it up. He manipulated me, pretended to love me, then he tried to kill me,” she shook her head. “Oh, and he was apparently cheating on me the whole time with Amber.”
“Your ex, that was-”
“Richie,” Sam cut you off. “He tracked me down, became my co-worker, then friend, and then…”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“And it was all to make a stupid movie,” she scoffed. “He’s dead. I made sure of that. So, is Amber.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam looked at you with a furrowed brow, after everything she just said she wasn’t expecting another, I’m sorry’. “He might have been an asshole and a psychopath.” Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at your bluntness. “But whatever you felt for him was real, that doesn’t just automatically end because of what he did. It’s okay to be hurt or even feel bad about it.”
Sam nodded, no one had ever told her that before, well her therapist did but she dismissed it at the time. “But I don’t feel bad,” Sam whispered. “I don’t feel bad one bit,” Sam let out a humorless chuckle. “It felt good to kill him after what he did to me.”
Sam rested her head in her hand as she looked at you. You were looking down at the ground with your eyebrow scrunched up in concentration. “Someone started rumors about me online,” Sam said, making you look up, your brow still scrunched together. “Saying I set the whole thing up last year, that I killed my boyfriend, and he was actually the hero.” Sam shook her head, despite Sidney being there, despite all the police statements, the world seemed to believe some random reddit user over the facts.
“The world sees me as just another killer,” Sam shrugged. “Just like my father.” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “Now you know what a mess my life is,” she scoffed. “Why it would be a terrible idea to get involved with me.”
She thought back to the kiss the two of you shared just the other day. She had stopped it; she said she couldn’t. She told herself it was because she couldn’t fully trust you, she didn’t want to risk getting involved with someone else. The truth was she didn’t want to bring someone into her life, it was such a mess, she didn’t want someone else having to deal with the looks and the comments. You certainly didn’t deserve to be with someone like that, you were too good for all that, you deserved to have someone normal, someone who wouldn’t potentially get you stabbed every other day.
You had been silent most of the time and when Sam looked at you, she saw you nodding along. “Your life is a mess,” you finally said. Sam couldn’t help but smile, you were still as blunt as ever, she found she kind of liked that about you.
“About a year ago I was shot,” you said, your voice becoming distant as if you were going back to the memory. Sam furrowed her brow, she had seen the scars all over your body, she knew you had been shot before, she never imagined one of those injuries was so recent though. “Centimeters from my heart.” You kept touching a spot over your heart, Sam could only assume it was where you were shot. “It’s why I’m in town.”
“But you seem fine,” Sam said. Kirby said it was odd you were in town for longer than usual, that you were stationed in North Carolina. Kirby also said you were still active duty, if you had been injured enough to be discharged then that would be one thing but if you were healed and still active duty it didn’t make sense for you to be home for so long.
“Physically I am,” you rasped out. You were looking across the theater, but it was clear your mind was somewhere else. “But up here,” you tapped your head. “Haven’t been cleared,” you clenched your jaw.
“You seem pretty sane to me,” Sam offered. You were the most stable person she had met, which maybe she wasn’t the best judge in that department knowing her track record.
You huffed out a laugh at that. “Well, not according to my therapist. She won’t clear me until I talk about what happened.” Sam thought back to when you had told her you had a therapy appointment, you had said it was mandatory, that meant you were ordered to see your therapist, it wasn’t something you willingly went to like she did.
“You don’t have to talk about it.” If you had been seeing your therapist this long and it still didn’t seem like you were any closer to getting clear that meant you probably hadn’t talked about whatever it was yet. Sam might have been comfortable seeing a therapist and wanted to talk about her issues, but she knew that wasn’t the case for everyone, her sister in particular refused to see a therapist or talk about what happened in any meaningful way.
“No,” you shook your head. “It’s been long enough.” Sam remained silent as she nodded, she would give you as much time as you needed. “We had been deployed for a few months, it was supposed to just be a peacekeeping mission,” you shook your head. “Had done plenty of them before, meant to help build relations, and make connections. But then…”
You blinked away tears that had begun to fill your eyes, but you never let them fall. “A local militia attacked, we were caught off guard, we’re meant to always be prepared but it had been months without incident,” you continued. You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice as unwavering as possible. “My whole team was killed, my brothers,” you buried your head in your hands.
Sam sucked in a breath; out of everything she was expecting you to say it certainly wasn’t that. She couldn’t imagine the guilt you must be living with being the only survivor of something like that. The only reason she was as okay as she was was because of her sister and Chad and Mindy, without them she couldn’t imagine what she’d be like. They might not have liked to talk about what happened, but they relied on each other, they leaned on each other when one was struggling, and they celebrated together when something good happened.
“I was meant to die that day,” you whispered. “I should have,” you shook your head. You pressed your palm against your eyes before finally lifting your head again. “Somehow the bullet missed my heart, and the rescue team got to me just before I bled out.”
Sam opened and closed her mouth a few times. She wasn’t even sure where to begin with something like this, she was pretty sure there was nothing she could say to comfort you.
“See?” you said, giving her a tired smile. “I got just as much baggage as you.” Sam gave you a sad smile. “But I promise you, I’m much more screwed up, you don’t want any of this,” you gestured at yourself. “Coming into your life. Trust me,” you whispered. “It’s you who’s better off not getting involved with me.”
Sam opened and closed her hand. She wanted nothing more than to reach for you, to try and comfort you. She didn’t believe you; she was definitely not better off without you. You didn’t deserve anything that had happened to you, you weren’t to blame for your team dying. Ever since Sam had met you, all you had done was prove how good you were, you protected her, you joined the group to help protect everyone when you didn’t even know them. You told her your story as if you were warning her to stay away but it only proved to her that you truly were one of the good ones.
Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess
@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight
@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler @marsyay78
#sam carpenter#sam carpenter x reader#sam carpenter x you#sam carpenter imagine#samantha carpenter x reader#samantha carpenter#melissa barrera#scream#scream vi#scream 6#no man's land
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✶ . ၄၃ . noticed — sam winchester
cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied depression, feelings of guilt and inadequacy, overall just poor mental health, swearing, 1.1K words. requested !
summary : your depression isn't making things easy for you these days. sam notices and gives you what small comforts he can.
sam can see you slipping. he can see how hard you’re trying not to, how you’re trying to hide it. he lets you, for a bit, because he knows that sometimes you don’t like for anyone else to give it any attention.
but you’re falling behind on research and dean doesn’t know why, so he’s cutting no slack. sam is soft and understanding with you, but he knows he can’t control dean and that you wouldn’t like him to intervene either. all this, and you hate to ask for help, too.
you’re in the library, stuck by your computer and overwhelmed by the amount of books on the topic for this long and tiring case. so you rest your head on the hard wood for a moment, trying to gather energy that you don’t have. then you hear the loud front door swing open, signaling dean’s return from the grocery store. you have to at least look busy, so you drag yourself back up into a sitting position and scan over the pages of a book that you’re not actually reading.
dean passes you with arms full of plastic bags and a half assed greeting. he’s tired from last night, and anything’s fine by you as long as he doesn’t say anything passive aggressive like he does sometimes. you know he’s frustrated with you, wishing you’d find something actually helpful. you just can’t bring yourself to do much of anything at all.
when you’ve finally heard the door to dean’s room shut, after staring at the page and listening to the sounds of him putting away groceries in the kitchen, you drop your head back down, feeling useless and restless but unable to act on it. the next time you hear footsteps, they’re sam’s. you can tell just by listening for a moment or two. he’s taller, but he walks quieter than dean. though his footfalls are a little heavy now, in the comfort and privacy of the bunker.
he approaches faster than you expect and most definitely catches you with your head on the table before you sit up to look in his direction.
the smile you give him when you lift your head is unconvincing and the one he returns to you is soft and understanding. it’s clear to you that he can see you’re unwell. you sigh and your smile fades.
“hey,” he murmurs, all gentle and kind, never pitying but certainly careful. he closes the gap between your seat and the doorway, quietly shutting both your laptop and the book before placing a hand on the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “let’s take a break, yeah? grab lunch in town, or maybe some ice cream. or both. how’s that sound, honey?”
you purse your lips, feeling loved by the gesture but wanting to do anything except go out right now. you lean into his touch anyway, then after a moment of hesitation, mumble back, “i’d rather stay inside.”
“okay,” he agrees immediately, “we can do that, too. why don’t you sit in the kitchen with me? i’ll make you something simple. dean should’ve gotten the stuff for those sandwiches you like, yeah?” he holds his hand out for you to guide you away from the library.
“alright,” you accept quietly after a moment of just looking at his hand, waiting for you, reaching out to you to pull you up. when your hand lands in his, it’s a little easier to breathe, somehow. he closes his fingers around yours and gives the gentlest of tugs to urge you up. you start to stand and the hand on your head reaches down to pull your chair out for you. his hand stays in yours as he leads you to the kitchen.
he has you sit as he makes a sandwich for the both of you, talking aimlessly about a documentary he watched last weekend but didn’t have the chance to tell you about until now. his voice stays muted and constant, knowing you don’t want anything loud but shouldn’t stay stuck in silence.
he’s right, of course. the lull of his voice keeps your mind off of all else, and you find yourself actually able to pay attention to the words that fall from his lips. it’s nice to watch him, too.
sitting across from you, watching you take the last bite of the simple food he made you, spreads the warmth of satisfaction through his chest. frankly, he’s worried about you, but it’s nice to know that you’ll let him take care of you like this. subtle and easy, but essential. not too loud and not too outwardly worried, but showing he’s noticed and is going to actually do something about it. there’s no judgment in his eyes or his actions, only care and softness and love.
sam’s serious about taking a break. he doesn’t let you go back to that library table to wallow in your self-criticism of being unable to get anything done. he brings you back to his bed and holds you in his arms and kisses the top of your head, maybe more times than he needs to.
“you can tell me when you need me,” he murmurs into your hair, his arms wrapped around your middle. “doesn’t have to be out loud. but if you can, and there’s something i’m not doing that i could be, you tell me, yeah? ‘cause i’ll do it. i want to, for you, honey.”
you take a deep breath in, let it out slow. “thank you,” you whisper, “this helps, really.” and you mean that, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. sometimes, walking away from the things you should be doing just makes you feel worse, like you don’t really deserve to do anything nice. if you can’t do what you should, it feels like the least you could do is sit there and beat yourself up about it.
sam pulls you away from that mindset. his love isn’t burdensome, he lets you believe you deserve it. his arms are a shield and his chest is a place for your head to really rest. he brings you both sleep and consciousness without guilt or anxious embarrassment.
and when you inevitably get antsy again, he notices that, too. he tells you sternly, sweetly, to stay comfortable on the bed as he fetches your laptop and book. once back, he still insists on keeping you settled right against him, your head slotted perfectly into the crook of his neck as he reads the book aloud to you, either until you find something useful or the pages run out.
no matter what, he’ll keep you held, keep you steady in his arms.
#sam winchester x reader#sam x reader#sam winchester x gn!reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester#supernatural hurt/comfort#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester headcanon#supernatural angst#sam winchester fic#sam winchester angst#supernatural fanfiction#sam winchester hurt/comfort#sam winchester oneshot#spn fanfiction#supernatural oneshot#sam winchester imagine#supernatural sam winchester#spn sam winchester#supernatural#supernatural requests#supernatural fluff#sam winchester supernatural#supernatural x reader#spn fanfic
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How the batboys would react to anniversaries!
Dick Grayson
He really tries his best to spend the day with you or carve out some time, but if you’re a civilian then it’s hard. He’s got to lead the titans, stop Mr Freeze, make sure Bruce doesn’t adopt anyone else, stop Mr Freeze again!
When he finally gets to you he makes it well worth your time. He’ll confidently give you your favourite flowers because he knows exactly which ones they are.
Dick is a diehard romantic so he’ll bring you back to where you had your first date, or wherever you first met depending on how memorable the moment was.
“Sooooo, I’m assuming you remember this place…” He’ll say with a cheeky smile- nervously he’ll add, “You do like it right?”
Expect a lot of nostalgia to the early days of your relationship, which will lead to you two falling in love with each other again.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the entire World.”
Jason Todd
“Well… do you want to celebrate our anniversary?”
Jason doesn’t believe it should be any different from any other days in your relationship. Sure he wants to commentate and appreciate your time together, but you two shouldn’t be doing anything drastically different right? After all you both put a 110% into your relationship naturally.
He’ll definitely buy you a very thoughtful gift, most likely a book that reminds him of you. However Jason doesn’t have the confidence to give it to you in person, because he’s scared you’ll reject the idea or throw his affections back in his face.
Instead he’ll leave the gift for you on the beside table with a note. Which is short and to the point, but again he’s worried that he may be overestimating how much you truly care for him, so he acts aloof.
“For you, happy anniversary.”
Tim drake
He’ll probably be a few minutes late to the date looking totally disorientated. Shoving your favourite flowers into your hand he’ll breathlessly give you an apology.
“Sorry-“ pant, “riddler,” pant, “is crazy,” wheeze.
Tim is looking for more of a casual day rather than a massive extravagant event. He just wants to spend time with his lover and feel free to be himself.
The pair of you will go on a date doing something that you both find equally enjoyable so the day isn’t solely spent on one of you.
Tim’s definitely bought you something expensive to give you after the date is over. It’s something that reminded him of you when he walked past a store in the diamond district a few weeks ago and he couldn’t resist. Secretly he hopes you like it, one because his bank account took a bit of a dent, two the store doesn’t do returns and three he’ll be scared he doesn’t understand you properly.
“It suits you perfectly.”
Damian Wayne
You and Damian have dinner at Wayne Manor, which sounds very simplistic, but the little details are what makes the anniversary special.
Either you or Alfred will make the dinner, while Damian goes patrolling. This means he has the entire night to give to you and not Gotham.
You both dress up as if you’re going to a fancy gala and insist on no interruptions.
It’s just you and Damian with the fireplace silently rustling behind you and the opulence of Wayne Manor to embrace you.
The affair is quiet and romantic, not overstated and tiring. It’s just the right pace for you and Damian.
No words need to be said at the end of the meal as you both stare into the fireplace, save for a previous statement.
“Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”
Duke Thomas
“No it’s next week right?”
Duke is so sweet and loves you to the moon and back. Unfortunately he’s a bit forgetful. Duke however makes things up for you in an impressive fashion. If there’s one thing Duke knows it’s kindness.
You’d think he hadn’t even forgotten considering how he takes you to all the right places and says all the right things. The day goes by so quickly but it’s completely jam packed with activities.
“I know you always wanted to, so why not today!”
Since he forgot the anniversary he doesn’t buy you a specific gift, but to you the day in itself is a gift. He completely forgoes patrol all together for you.
“Please forgive me, I love you too much to let you go.”
#dick grayson headcanon#dick grayson x reader#jason todd headcanon#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#tim drake headcanon#damian wayne headcanon#damian wayne x reader#duke thomas headcanon#duke thomas x reader
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© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you:
FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase one:
<last chapter>
➴ chapter warnings: none!!
➴ word count: 2.1k
💌 from me to you: i heard it’s thanksgiving in the us so happy thanksgiving to all of you!! thank u so much for all the love in part one, but here’s where the fun really begins. also, thank u for the 500 reblogs <3 i love u all so much and i’m thankful for all of u. 🤍
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emmaroberts
Newark, New Jersey
liked by nicohischier, dawson1417, ninahischier and 603 others
emmaroberts night out :)
View all 30 comments
user1 it’s so funny to me how the hischiers always like emma’s pics like they love her 😭
miaturner YOURE SO FINE HELP HELP HELP CALL THE COPS
emmaroberts miaturner mia you’re mentally challenged but i love you a lot
user2 it’s not even been five minutes since she’s posted and nico’s already in the likes
user3 user2 and so is nina so???? your point??
tmeier96 Why was I not invited 😢
emmaroberts tmeier96 next time we’ll call you promise
user4 ok. have u guys seen nico’s story
user5 user4 omg yes do you think they were dining together
user6 user5 user4 it wouldn’t be THAT much of a surprise bc they’ve been friends for AGES
user4 user6 you’re right i guess 🤷♂️
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nicohischier and emmaroberts added a new story!
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THE FLORAL perfume you had chosen for the night was bothering you, yet you had no one to blame but that one lady at Sephora who offered you a huge deal and made you buy it even if you didn’t like it that much.
Realistically speaking, you knew that the perfume wasn’t really the issue here. You were nervous about this whole fake-dating thing, even if you’d been your idea to begin with.
Lying and faking things weren’t really your deal. As a child, you’d always get in trouble because you could never lie properly. Growing up, you also faced your own problems because you can’t lie.
But you really want to help Nico.
Tonight’s Luke’s 21st birthday, and you had been invited to his little birthday dinner, a small celebration with people from his team and close friends, which included you. Although, you’re going more as a plus one than a friend, but Luke doesn’t need to know that.
A knock on your bedroom door has you turning your head around, facing Nico as he leans on the door frame and crosses his arms in front of you.
“You look nice,” he compliments you, and you smile, putting your arms behind you.
“Thanks. So do you.”
“So,” he claps his hands, sighing. “Are we ready? What’s the game plan for today?”
You take a deep breath, mentally repeating the “plan” you’ve been working on.
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do tonight, and Nico, you have to take this really seriously or else—”
“You sound really scary right now—”
“Nico.”
“Okay,” he pouts. “Go ahead.”
“All of your teammates are going to be there tonight and if anyone is going to help us fool Nora Ellis, it’s them,” you walk around the room, moving your hands as you explain your thoughts. “If we make ‘em believe that we are very much in love and together, then we’ll be safe.”
“That will be kind of hard,” he shrugs. “We’ve been friends for a while and we’re close but… I don’t know.”
“Nico,” you step closer, standing in front of him. “For this lie to work, you have to believe it. We have to believe it. It’s the only way we’ll be able to make this work.”
He whistles. “You know a lot for someone who can’t lie to save her life and started crying when I asked you if you had turned my jerseys pink when you decided that washing them with Nina’s pink shirt was a good idea.”
You roll your eyes and bite your lips, trying to hide your smile. “I just read tons of books.”
“When was the last time you—”
“This isn’t relevant right now!” you point your finger at him. “What’s relevant is: we need to make your teammates believe we’re together and in love. Think you can make it?”
Nico smirks, poking your cheek with his finger.
“When have I ever backed out of a challenge?”
“You’ve been around Jack for too much time, you’re getting too cocky,” you joke, crossing your arms. “So, the second part of your plan: PDA, pet names and touching.”
“Go on, little genius.”
“Lots of touching,” you say, feeling your cheeks get warm as you emphasize the word lots, making you want to look elsewhere. You don’t. “Lots of PDA and I guess we can squeeze some pet names in there too.”
“What?” he chuckles. “Want me to call you baby? Sweetheart?”
You spend the next five seconds forcing your face to remain red-less and your heart to stop beating so fucking fast— you were afraid Nico might hear it, considering how close you were and how fast it was going.
Gulping, you continue. “I don’t want anything,” you mumble. “I just think it’ll work.”
“Then we’re fine,” he claps again, moving his hair around. “Do we need to discuss something else?”
You look at the watch on your wrist and click your tongue.
“We don’t have time, we have to leave now,” you walk towards your bed and grab your purse, your phone and your wallet. “We can talk more in the car.”
“Lead the way, baby.”
Oh God, you think as you hear Nico’s laugh and comments about how fun this is all going to be, what have I done?
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“OKAY, AND remember, we started dating a month ago but we kept it super lowkey,” you remind Nico as you walk by his side towards the restaurant Luke chose for the night. “I hate lobster, you hate pop music.”
“I don’t hate it—”
“Strongly dislike,” you smile, before looking down, where Nico had just slipped his hand and intertwined both of your hands together.
Right. You’re dating.
Entering the fancy place, you felt Nico’s body close to yours, and you tried your hardest to keep your cool. You were used to being close to him but not in this way, not like this—
“Hischier!” Jack shouts across the room and you almost want to knock him out with your own two hands for yelling like this and drawing everyone’s attention to you and Nico. “And… Emma?”
It was almost comical how grown men looked interested in your hands together, and how many smiles you could see directed at both of you. Your grip on Nico’s hand tightened without you even realizing it did, and you smiled politely at Luke and the rest of the Devils.
Nico let go of your hand for a second before shaking hands with Luke, wishing him a happy birthday like an old grandpa.
“Hey, Emma, thanks for coming.” Luke hugs you briefly, barely touching you, and you grin.
“Happy birthday, Lukey.”
“Emma!” Mia, one of your best friends, shouts and gets up, running to you. She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, happy to see her again after weeks. “I didn’t know you were coming! Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I forgot,” you lie, feeling your cheeks getting warm. Mia looks at you like a human lie detector and you can tell she sees right through your bullshit but, happily, she doesn’t say anything else. “Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven. Ella’s here, too.”
You look around and try to find Ella, smiling when you see her sitting beside Luke, quietly speaking to one of the wives sitting beside her.
“I’ll talk to her later.” You reply.
You and Nico spend the next five minutes greeting the other people there, the rest of the players and some of the girlfriends before finally sitting down by Jack’s side— per his request, you must say. Nico’s hands immediately found yours as you placed them on top of the table, before grabbing the menu and smiling at you, brown eyes full of mischief.
“What do you want to eat, baby?”
Before you could even think of what to say, Jack’s loud and annoying laugh filled the table. “I fucking knew it! Hamilton, you owe me a hundred bucks!”
“Oh, man,” Hamilton sighs as he picks up his phone. “Couldn’t you guys keep hiding your relationship for a little bit more?”
“W-What do you mean?” you ask, looking at him before looking at Jack again.
“Dougie and I made a bet: if you made your relationship public by the end of the year, I’d win,” Jack starts, and you can tell how proud he is. “But if you didn’t, he’d win. Thankfully, I know my man here always gets my back.” He cheers, slapping Nico’s shoulder.
“You’re such a fucking child, Hughes.” Mia hisses before looking at you, clearly asking you why you hadn’t told her before.
“Shut up, princess. Now,” he grins. “My money, Dougie.”
You stare at them in disbelief, while Nico puts on his best performance and squeezes your hands together, smiling like he had just been caught eating snacks before lunch.
“Sorry, guys. We were just waiting for the right time,” he explains, and he sounds so natural you have to remind yourself to keep your surprise hidden. “Didn’t want to be like you and rush things.”
“Oh, screw you,” Jack laughs. “We all knew. You’re not slick.”
They kept talking while you tried to hide the fact that the things they were saying made no sense. Because you and Nico have never been close, romantically speaking. Sure, you’re friends, best friends if you want to go that way, but dating?
And, okay, you’re used to people thinking you’re together, because apparently a guy and a girl can’t be friends anymore, but this? The fact that they were sure of your “relationship” with Nico, sure enough to bet? This is surreal.
“Did you choose already?” Nico whispers to you, and you look at him with wide eyes. You don’t answer, trying to find the right things to say so you don’t screw up everything. “Baby? Are you okay?”
You nod, blinking a few times before staring at the menu in Nico’s hand again. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’ll get the Caesar Burger, please.”
“Great choice.” He smiles at you, before telling your orders to the waiter.
You thought that your biggest concern here would be Nico, but in reality, it’s going to be you. You can’t really deal with too much attention on you, that’s why you’ve been keeping yourself in the shadows for this long— Hockey players can be loud and invasive sometimes, and you’d rather hang out with their kids or parents, because they won’t ask questions you don’t want to answer.
“So,” Timo starts, sipping on his beer and resting his chin on his hands, looking like a goddamn school girl. “What made you decide it was finally time? Sie ist ein hübsches Mädchen, Nico.”
Nico looks at you, smiling. “Ja, ist sie,” he nods, and even if you have no idea of what they’re talking about, you smile too, because Nico’s smile makes you want to smile. “And, I don’t know, man. If you had a girl who looked like this,” he points at you with his head. “Would you want to hide her?”
“Nico, he won’t ever get a girl like Emma,” Dougie laughs before getting shoved by Timo. “Ouch.”
“Well, I think it’s nice you guys are finally out.” Palat’s wife says, making you smile and rest your head on Nico’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” you say, sweetening your voice to the max. “I think we were just trying to understand where we stood before, y’know, letting everyone know.”
“How did the Hischiers take it?” Mia asks, looking extra curious. “I bet Nina was happy.” Like I would’ve been if you had told me sooner, she mouths, making you cringe. Sorry, you mouth back.
“They took it well,” you lie through your teeth, squeezing Nico’s arm more than you probably should. “And Nina is just glad her sister-in-law isn’t a Hockey obsessed girl.”
People laugh and you can’t help but feel you had just gotten your approval from Nico's friends.
Nico changes the topic of the conversation, moving back to Luke, the star of the night, and you’re glad for it. You eat side by side with him, you laugh at his jokes, you’re constantly touching him, as he’s constantly touching you.
“We should go out some time,” Mia says, casually, like she doesn’t mean anything by it. “Y’know, catch up.”
“Like anyone would willingly choose to spend a day with you.” Jack bickers, and Mia rolls her eyes at him.
“Go fuck yourself, Hughes.”
“Hey, guys,” Luke yells from the other corner of the table. “You promised you’d be nice to each other today. It’s my birthday.”
“I said no such thing—”
“You can’t even hear what we’re saying—” They both say at the same time.
“Jack and Mia. Shut. Up.” Luke says and they both pout while they shut up.
“It’s so funny because they’re much more alike than they think.” You whisper to Nico, smiling as he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly.
“They sure are, baby.”
It all seems so… natural. It’s weird and unsettling, but you’re fine with it as long as it helps people buy your lie. Also, the feeling of Nico’s heavy hand on your thigh isn’t really unpleasant.
The rest of the evening flies by and when you notice, it’s time for you to leave. You almost don’t want to, for the first time, happy to spend time with the players.
“D’you think they bought it?” You ask when you’re away from the guys and the restaurant. Your hands are still together but none of you notice it.
“I think they did,” he chuckles. “Actually, it was a lot easier than I was expecting.”
None of you address the fact that they already thought you were dating, though.
“Yeah,” you whisper, looking at your heels. “Phase one is complete, then.”
“I like how seriously you’re taking this,” he says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look down at you, dimples on display for the whole world to see. Yet, you were the only one watching them right now. “Thank you. Truly.”
You smile, standing on the tip of your toes and giving him a light, brief kiss on the cheek, as you’re used to doing.
“You’re welcome.”
<next chapter>
#nico hischier#nico hischier smau#nico hischier x oc#nico hischier x you#nico hischier angst#nico hischier fluff#nico hischier au#nico hischier fanfic#nico hischier smut#nico hischier imagine#nhl x reader#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl players#nhl hockey#new jersey devils x you#new jersey devils fic#new jersey devils#nh13#FITYMI
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november 22 vs jets, 4-1 loss
someone was in a mood.
this is omegaverse. it's also not entirely what i set out to write, but i got a little lost in in the setup at the start and then sid got a little less feral-alpha and more i've-been-pining at the end there so...here we are. also not nearly as long of a sex scene as i'd planned but sometimes i don't actually decide what gets written! hope you enjoy it anyway :)
Zhenya doesn’t trust the team’s new dynamic specialist.
He’s an omega—they often are, omegas tend to get funneled into career paths that involve heightened sensitivity to smell and emotions young, just like alphas are encouraged towards sports—but that’s not why Zhenya doesn’t trust him, not at all.
Kris had laughed at him when he first brought it up, patted his shoulder and said that Zhenya had no reason to be jealous, he was still everyone’s favorite omega no matter how many specialists the team brings in. Zhenya had socked him on the arm hard enough to bruise.
He’s never been that kind of omega. Most omegas he knows aren’t, actually—the stereotype that they’re all fawning after alphas, tripping over themselves for attention and picking fights with other omegas at the drop of a hat, isn’t based in any sort of reality that Zhenya’s experienced. He’s been surrounded by ‘traditional’ omegas his whole life, been treated by them and trained by them and gone to them for help regulating his cycle, and they’ve all been fiercely protective of him, gone out of their way to make sure that he’s taken care of and safe.
So, no, it’s not that Zhenya distrusts this guy because he’s an omega. Zhenya doesn’t trust him because he’s a fan.
The Penguins are usually pretty good at weeding out people who are going to be weird about working with the players from their employee pool. Fans are inevitable, especially with the emphasis the team puts on hiring local, but there’s a difference between being a fan and a fan.
Zhenya’s not sure how this one got through. And to be fair, the guy hasn’t done anything egregious—he’s not touchy, he’s not flirting, nobody’s said anything about feeling uncomfortable with him—but Zhenya can see the stars in his eyes when he looks at Sid, and when Zhenya had his own check-in, the kid barely even pushed back on Zhenya’s treatment plan, just accepted when Zhenya said he was fine and didn’t need any adjustments made.
Zhneya reported the official severance of his mate-bond over the summer. Their last specialist would have subjected him to hours of questions and testing to verify that he truly didn’t need his hormone-balancers changed, but this kid had taken him at his word so quickly that Zhenya was uneasy. If Sid’s checkup went any differently, Zhenya will eat his hat.
Even with that type of deference, though, Zhenya would expect him to have noticed that Sid’s heading towards early rut.
Omegas are always the first to notice when alphas enter pre-rut. It’s less a difference in smell than it is a difference in intensity, in presence. Sid already looms large enough in Zhenya’s subconscious, but when he’s nearing rut it becomes almost unbearable, especially if he doesn’t notice in time to take the pills that suppress the worst of it.
Zhenya can’t believe nobody else has noticed. Then again, he’s been hyper-sensitive to Sid for the last year and a half, ever since he and Anna first separated.
An omega fixating on an alpha like that is something a competent dynamics specialist should have been able to suss out, demand information on, and put together a treatment plan to rectify. This new guy hasn’t noticed a thing, and it’s embarrassing enough that Zhenya certainly isn’t going to bring it up on his own.
Sid’s also normally more on top of his cycle, but he’s stressed this season, fielding calls left and right from guys he hasn’t spoken to in years trying to get info on if he’s planning on jumping ship and being the public face of a team that’s underperforming so drastically it’s a national story every night, so Zhenya isn’t all that surprised.
Sully gives them the day after the Lightning game off, and only half the guys get scheduled for on-ice work the day before the Jets come to town. By the time the special teams units are done with extra video review, Zhenya’s practically dizzy with Sid’s pheromones, and even Kris is starting to wrinkle his nose and cast sidelong looks of concern Sid’s way.
Sid books it for the gym before anyone can corner him, though, which means Zhenya has no choice but to track down the specialist with his concerns.
Kris comes with as back-up, like he always does. One too many instances of Zhenya slinking out of offices with his tail between his legs and rage written on his face after being written off for being overly-emotional their rookie year has made it a habit for them; Zhenya takes point on laying out any problems they have, but Kris is there to lend support and legitimacy.
The specialist—Ben, his nametag says—listens as Zhenya stumbles through what he’s noticing, face getting paler and paler as Zhenya makes it perfectly, unavoidably clear how badly he’s dropped the ball.
“I’ll have to run his bloodwork, but…” Ben hesitates, but Zhenya’s glare gets him babbling. “It’s only, I don’t think—the service doesn’t have any omegas available this week. They send the list every Monday, you know, which of their contractors are around for breakthroughs, but we got a note Sunday night that there weren’t going to be any omegas until next week—some scheduling problem, I don’t know, but there’s nobody they can send for Sid.” He looks between Zhenya and Kris in desperation. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re not just thinking because you—”
Kris growls under his breath, and Ben shuts his mouth. “G knows Sid better than anyone,” Kris says, crossing his arms and managing to loom even from where he’s leaning against the wall across the room. “If he says Sid’s going into rut, he’s going into rut. Not his job to tell people, but we have each other’s backs.”
Zhenya will be surprised if Ben is still employed with the team when 2025 starts.
Ben’s fretting over his computer when Kris and Zhenya leave, muttering to himself as he types out different search queries, trying to find an emergency agency that has a hope of getting approved by the team on such short notice.
He won’t. They only go through one service provider for a reason.
“We’re fucked,” Kris mutters. “That kid doesn’t know anything, Sid’s gonna end up missing a whole week. He’s going to be furious.”
Zhenya doesn’t reply. He has a really, really bad idea.
—
It wouldn’t be the first time Zhenya helped Sid through rut. Zhenya’s own heat is as regular as clockwork and meticulously controlled, has been since he turned 14 and presented for the first time, but Sid spent his teenage years and first few seasons in the league going from medication to medication until his cycle stabilized on its own. There had been a few times when there was no one else available, and they were young and dumb and, as those times proved, painfully compatible.
He’s done it before. No reason he can’t do it again. He was always able to get Sid’s rut to break overnight; if Sid can make it through the Jets game without losing it completely, they might not even miss the second half of this week’s back-to-back.
Convincing Sid will be the hardest part, Zhenya thinks as he goes through his pre-game routine. Sid’s always been respectful to the point of insult about Zhenya’s status as an omega, shutting down locker room talk and off-color jokes firmly and skirting the reality of Zhenya’s heats with a level of avoidance that would make Zhenya think he were a virgin if it weren’t for Zhenya’s hands-on experience. Sid had shut down their hookups Zhenya’s second year so politely that Zhenya hadn’t even realized what was happening at first, but when he’d picked through the conversation later he’d realized that Sid had been concerned he was taking advantage of Zhenya.
He hadn’t been. Zhenya can take care of himself. He thought about getting offended by the implication, about challenging Sid on it and forcing the issue, but then he got back together with Oksana, and after that fizzled out for the final time he met Anna, and it just never felt worth putting a wedge in their friendship just to prove a point.
Zhenya’s prepared to wedge it wide open now. When Sid picks a fight with some Winnipeg forward three minutes into the third, though, he’s shamefully relieved that it probably won’t take much arguing to get Sid to come home with him. Sid’s usually so logical that any arguments they have end with Zhenya losing before they even truly get going.
Zhenya shifts on the bench. They’re losing again, and Sid’s angry and half out of his mind with rut-haze, but seeing him throw punches and snarl his dominance in someone else’s face will never not be hot, no matter the circumstances.
Kris elbows him hard enough to feel it through his pads. “You’re going to do something stupid, huh,” he hisses, and Zhenya nods, watching as Sid barks at the ref on his way to the box. No point pretending, Sid’s going to zero in on him the second he realizes Zhenya’s interested after the game. “Fuck,” Kris sighs, elbowing Zhenya again. “I’ll try to cover for you. Get him out of here as soon as you can, he’s going to cause a riot with the crowd if he hangs around for too long.”
—
Sid’s the first one down the tunnel after the final horn goes off. Zhenya had kept his distance at the end of the game, not wanting to push Sid even further into rut, but even with space between them he could tell that Sid was quickly losing coherency, his big eyes all pupil and his nostrils flaring, snapping at Ricky and Rusty whenever either of them try to talk through a play with him. He spent the last few minutes of the game shoving off the training staff who tried to talk to him, and it took Kris frantically whispering to Sully to get everyone to back off.
Zhenya barely makes it through his shower before Sid gets a whiff of his scent. Kris runs interference, blocking the rest of the team from the change room as Zhenya somehow manages to dress them both while fending off Sid’s advances and keeping his own instinctual fawn response in check.
He’d vaguely thought about having someone from the car service drive them home, but the idea of sharing space with anyone other than Sid is intolerable, so he white-knuckles the drive home, Sid’s scent rising in the close air of his car. It’s suffocating.
“How did you know?” Sid asks suddenly as they turn into Zhenya’s neighborhood. He sounds perfectly lucid, like they’re just having a casual everyday conversation and not like Zhenya’s driving them home so he can sit on Sid’s dick for the next six hours. “I barely even noticed, and you…how?”
Zhenya glances to his left and immediately regrets it, because Sid’s got one hand down his own pants and is stroking himself off. His other hand is braced against the dashboard, almost like he’s stopping himself from reaching for Zhenya.
Shaking his head to clear the fog, Zhenya focuses back on the road. Just a few more turns and they’re home. “Since last year I’m notice you more,” he says plainly. “You know, when Anna and I break up, like, you’re smell so much more to me than before.”
Sid groans in response, and Zhenya skids up his driveway so fast he scatters gravel everywhere when he brakes.
“I never stopped noticing you,” Sid gasps in his ear when they finally make it to Zhenya’s bedroom and Sid’s got him pinned down to the mattress, frantically ripping at his clothes to get them skin-on-skin. “I shouldn’t have told you we had to stop, you were mine and—fuck, god, you should have been mine this whole time.”
“Shh,” Zhenya soothes, arching his back to rub along Sid’s body and tilting his head to one side to expose his neck. He gets to watch in real-time the way Sid fixates on his scent gland, the way his pupils dilate even more and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
Zhenya was happy in his relationships. Perfectly satisfied, genuinely in love. He doesn’t regret them. But there had been a part of him that never let go of Sid.
It’s all instinct the way he spreads his legs, purring enticements as Sid clumsily lines up and moaning as Sid sinks into him too fast, the stretch painful and so good. Sid was always a little careless during his ruts, always a little more selfish than he’d probably care to admit to being with his lovers, and Zhenya missed the rough treatment, missed the way Sid took what he wanted.
He’s going to be sore tomorrow. He won’t skate well, won’t score again, and he’ll have to listen to Sully scold him for yet another disappointing performance in front of their home crowd.
But Sid’s teeth are scraping over his scent gland, and Sid’s knot is swelling inside him, and Zhenya can’t bring himself to care about anything else.
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Chapter 1: Downtown
Chapter 2
Simon Riley was an excellent soldier... Key word being was. After an unfortunate series of events Simon was deemed unfit for active duty military and was put into forced retirement. From there everything seemed to continue falling apart, his landlord giving him the boot, his job firing him, and the final nail in the coffin; his car being totaled in an accident that he wasn't even around to see. That car was his only life line, he'd been living out of it for months but then it was gone.
Simon did the one thing he could think of and reached out to the one person he knew that could help... And that's how he ended up in the entrance of a random alleyway near Piccadilly Square with all his worldly possession in a box and a large trash bag. He's here to meet up with his old captain and closet thing to a father figure one John Price.
Who has yet to show up which is making Simon anxious, though he doubts anyone could tell. What with his skull face mask and black hood obscuring everything but his eyes.
"Simon?" A familiar voice calls out.
Turning rapidly at the name Simon sees the man he's been waiting for walking towards him from his left. Price is the same as Simon remembers, kind eyes, nice beard and bucket hat. It gives a small bit of comfort to Simon to know not everyone drastically changes when coming back to civilian life.
"Come on, follow me! This cold is doin' horrible things to my leg." Price takes the lead leaning heavily against a cane on his left.
Simon follows quietly behind the man as they make their way further into the alleyway. They turn into a small alcove hidden well, as they get closer Simon can see neon blue light flooding a small staircase leading down.
As they begin to descend down, the walls are covered in graffiti designs that all pop out well under the neon. Simon notices a man standing in front of a door; also covered in the designs. Price approaches and gives the man a firm hand shake before pulling him into a hug.
"I still have to see your ID Price, Mom will have my head if I don't." The voice caught Simon off guard, he's an American and from the south.
"Here you go Graves, Simon got an ID?" Price was looking back towards him with a smile across his face. "Anything will do, this muppet just has to know you're legal to drink."
Simon balances the box in one arm, reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulls out his old, beaten up wallet and produces his ID. It's the newest thing he owns and the reason he wasn't in his car when it was totaled. Small mercies that's all he gets.
"Right you boys have a good time," The american, Graves, opens the door. It's only then that Simon notices the neon sign above it that has illuminated the entire encounter, 141. Simon assumes it's the address of the building.
Price shuffles in followed closely behind by Simon. They enter into a relatively large room with seating and booths taking up a small portion of the area, there's a bar near there with another figure. The vast majority of the space is taken up by a large dance floor, a vast majority of the lights are dim and the only two well lit areas are the bar and a DJ's booth against the furthest wall. Another figure seems to be working behind it but it's hard to make them out.
Price walks over to the bar and leans against it waiting for the bartender to greet him. After a bit of time the young man turns towards Price, he has short dark hair, freckles all over his face or at least where a black mask isn't covering it. He's cleaning a glass as he turns cocking his head to the side like a dog.
"Gary, how've you been?" Simon watches as the man sets down his glasses and begins making rapid hand gestures that Simon recognizes as BSL. Sadly he doesn't know enough to understand what he's saying.
But Price does and they hold a bit of conversation for a bit before Price asks for Mom, who Simon assumes is the owner. The bartender, Gary, gestured up before turning back to his work. Price thanked the man before turning and walking towards the DJ's booth, Simon again follows. Once approached Price calls out a greeting towards the figure, Sam, who keeps working and only raises a hand to wave.
Simon didn't notice the door immediately, it was well hidden behind the booth in shadow. Price walked through a small set of stairs that led to a small hallway with 3 doors, one to the left and right and one straight ahead. The one straight ahead had a little sign on it that read; Welcome to O'Connor's, Play Nice & No Rough Housing In My Bar. Price opened the door and stepped to the side to let Simon in first.
Simon is immediately greeted by a two tiered well lit room. Straight ahead is another door with windows lining the wall, he can see a small cobbled road and paved sidewalks lined with other buildings and shops. There are booths lining the windowed wall and the wall to the right of Simon, the wall to the left of him is covered in multiple pictures and a set of wooden double doors that seem to swing open. Directly to Simon's left is a large bar surrounded by stools with a large shelf behind it that's filled with various bottles of liquor.
There's a man sitting at a booth sitting next to two women all chatting, there's two men sitting at the bar watching the TV that has a football (soccer) game going. Price walks over to the table first patting the man on the back while talking to one of the women. Simon learns the man's name is Nikoli and the couple is Sarah and Kate Laswell. Simon has heard a couple of stories about Nik and Kate while serving under Price before the captain had his untimely accident that took left leg that is now a prosthetic.
Price introduced Simon to Alejandro and Rudy who were the two gentlemen at the bar, when there was a small chiming sound as a man and a woman stepped in and everyone seemed to light up.
"Farah! Alex! I didn't know you two were back in town! How's your family Farah?"
"Hello! We got back late last night, they're doing good. Dad says hello John!" The woman, Farah, gave everyone hugs as the man Alex gives a firm hand shake to Nik and Price.
"Where's Mom?" Alex, another American who again caught Simon off guard. Simon wasn't surprised by Kate as Price made a great many jokes about it.
" She is in the kitchen!" Rudy supplied smiling as he turned towards Price.
"She's making a fresh bre- NO!" Alejandro begins speaking in Spanish as Rudy starts laughing patting the man on the back. Simon is a little caught off guard with the variety of people here, with Nik being Russian, The Laswell couple, Alex, and Graves all being Americans, Farah being from Urzikstan, and Alejandro & Ruby being from Mexico. Simon's thoughts are cut short as the double doors swing open.
A man wearing a similar outfit to Gary's comes in, he's wearing a black button up and black slacks but where Gary has a purple bowtie this man had nothing but in his chest pocket he had a little red pocket square. He's carrying a large planter with multiple plates of food that he hands to those sitting at the table. Once he's done he turns around. When he smiles Simon feels like he's looking at the sun, it's so bright.
"Price! Good to see you, Mom told me you'd be stopping by!" The man steps behind the bar getting drinks for Farah and Alex.
Price guides Simon into the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and simmering beef stew wafted into Simon's face. There was another man standing at a stove humming to music that was being played further into the kitchen. Price walked over to him and leaned against the wall next to the wall and started chatting with him. Kyle was the name Simon heard.
"Oh! Simon just walk towards music and looks for the woman with ginger hair, let her know I sent you..." Price smiled reassuringly at Simon before going back to the conversation with Kyle.
Simon did as he was told and began to walk further into the kitchen following the music playing. He rounds a corner to see a woman with ginger hair, long white sleeve rolled up as she's kneading dough.
"Excuse me? Are you Mom? Price told me to find you." Simon said after clearing his throat.
The woman looks at him and smiles sweetly before putting the dough into a tray and slipping it into the oven next to her. She removes her apron and washes her hands quickly before walking towards Simon. Holding out a hand and as Simon grips it to shake she begins to talk.
"Nice to meet you lad, Maevis O'Connor but most everyone calls me Mom. If you'd like to follow me we can have a proper discussion while we sit..." She steps past Simon guilding him yet again. As they pass Price and Gaz she speaks up again.
"Kyle darling the bread is in the oven, the timers are set. You'll be the only one here, make sure John doesn't burn down my kitchen won't you?"
"Yes ma'am, Shepherd's Pie is almost done so I'll watch for the bread." O'Connor nods smiling so sweetly towards Kyle.
"Oh come now Maeve I won't burn down your kitchen!"
" If you keep distracting my head chief you will... Mind yourself this is my kitchen and I keep my knives very sharp John!" She says as she pushes through the doors holding one open for Simon.
She points towards a small booth in the far corner closest to the door Simon had originally entered from. Simon goes to sit down as O'Connor says a few words to everyone after walking behind the bar and grabbing a small piece of paper. She hands it to Simon before sitting across from him.
Simon looks down to see a small menu with four meals on it. His confusion must be visible in his eyes because O'Connor speaks up.
"Pick one and we'll bring it out for you lad!" The same sweet smile across her face.
"Ah no I'm good, I'm not hungry!" As if to call Simon out on the lie his stomach growls.
O'Connor tilts her head at him but before she can say anything the bartender appears at their table.
"What can I get for you tonight?"
"Nothing I'm good..." Simon says again hoping he stomach doesn't betray him again.
He hears O'Connor sigh before ordering a slice of Shepard's pie then looking to him
"What's your drink of choice lad?" Simon again tries to deny to no avail.
"John! What the hell does this stubborn git drink?"
Price who'd sat at the table with Nik, Sarah and Kate have their own booth eating together, turns towards them before yelling back.
"Kentucky bourbon, neat!" Price smiled at Simon as though he could see betrayal on Simon's face even with the mask on.
"Like a good ol' boy" the bartender gives Simon a wolfish smile that makes his heart stutter and his lower half jump. He's extremely thankful for his mask as it hides his blush that's definitely spreading across his face.
"Down MacTavish, no need for that. You've got what you need here." O'Connor swatted his arm, the man MacTavish laughed hard before ducking into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry about him... So you're Simon! I'm sorry to hear about your bad luck lad but hopefully I can help you turn that around. I've got a few spots open for both the bar and the club, which ever is preferred. There's a few potions open in the kitchen and doorman/bouncer for the nightclub." Simon and O'Connor talk about what the jobs would entail and how much he'd make per hour. Simon decides on the bouncer and doorman position.
"Are you still interested in living here? I don't know if John told you or not but you'll have a roommate. MacTavish has a spare room that he's already cleared out and set up. All you have to do is move in, if you're interested."
"Yes, Price told me and I'm more than okay with a roommate." After they confirmed a few details O'Connor left to grab some paper work for Simon to fill out, while walking away she stopped MacTavish who'd just walked out with Simon's food. He sat it down and came back with the bourbon.
"Do you mind if I take this seat? I figured we should chat a bit if you'll be moving in. So I'm John MacTavish but the regulars calls me Soap... Expect for Mom." Again Simon's heart flutters at the smile Soap flashes him.
"Johnny, what's with the nickname?"
"There wasn't an automatic dishwasher when I started working here so I used to do it. I always had soap suds in my hair when I came back to the bar, eventually the regulars took to calling me Soap... It stuck."
"O'Connor mentioned everyone who works here is former military, what did you do?"
"Demolitions! Had a knack for blowing things up, happened to be too close to one of my explosions. Can't hear well enough to continue service... Got to Sergeant Major, what about you?"
"lnfantry, Lieutenant... Psych evaluations didn't go how they'd like."
"Lieutenant huh? Want me to call you LT?" Same wolfish smile and a quirk of his eyebrow, Simon couldn't handle how his heart fluttered.
"No thanks Johnny, Simon's fine."
O'Connor came back with the papers and a pen and sat them down in front of Simon, "Just fill this out and set it on the bar, Tavish your off the clock I'll man the bar. Help Simon get settled in and show him around... Tomorrow's Sunday so I'll train you on what you're expected to do, Simon and introduce you to the team."
"Thank you for this, it's greatly appreciated Ms. O'Connor."
"Call me Mom, lad... I'm sure the regulars will come up with a nickname for you. Goodnight boys." O'Connor walks to the bar as more people begin to trickle in.
After Simon finishes his food and drink as well as the paperwork for O'Connor. The whole time he sat silently while Johnny chatted away, normally Simon would have told anyone talking to him this much to piss off. But for whatever reason he didn't find himself annoyed at Johnny and his constant chatter, Simon even responded and asked his own questions.
"When you're ready, follow me." John wink at Simon who was forever grateful that he's wearing a face mask because the amount this man makes him blush isn't fair. "You got anything else you'll need help grabbing?"
"No just the box and bag... Didn't have much before the military." Johnny nods before leading Simon back through the door he came through originally.
John pointed to the door on their left and lets Simon know that it leads to O'Connor's flat, it's the smallest one. It also leads to O'Connor's office in case Simon ever needs to know.
They go up passing a small landing with a door, which Johnny informed him was Roach (Gary) and Sam's flat. They get to the second landing and stop, Simon learns the Gaz (Kyle) lives on the floor above them and that there's a large roof access that everyone in the building is allowed to use.
Johnny opens the door to reveal a decent sized living room with a dining area and a nice kitchen. There are two doors to Simon's right and another on his left between the kitchen and living room. The door on the left is revealed to be their bathroom which was an okay size just very long. The first door on the right is John's room.
Simon's room is already slightly furnished, there's a big bed against the far fall, a dresser next to the door and a closet in the wall him and John share. It's simple and a lot more than what Simon was originally expecting, he's left to unpack his room which isn't much, all of his clothes fit into the first two dresser draws and everything in the box stays in the box under the bed. Simon leaves the room to put his bathroom supplies away. As he enters the living room he's greeted by an unholy sight that makes his heart stop beating and everything else to rush downstairs.
Johnny is sprawled out over the couch in his work clothes, his buttons down opened just enough for Simon to catch a glimpse of his well built chest and the faintest dusting of brown chest hair. His head is leaned back and tilted at just an angle that the light catches every feature of his face and highlights it gorgeously. His arm on the top of the couch perfectly flexing and his legs spread open just right to make the black slacks he's wearing to strain against him perfectly. He's a vision that Simon wants to devour...
Then he opens his eyes and it's like Simon is adrift in the sea, such a crystal clear blue that swallows him entirely. He can feel himself step forward as Johnny smiles at him like Simon's being lured in. Finally though his brain catches up and Simon clears his throat.
"Where should I put these in the bathroom?"
"There's a shelf next to the bath, half of the cabinet below the sink is yours along with the top two shelves behind the mirror." Simon is quick to lock himself away in the bathroom, he's struggling to keep himself calm. Just by looking at him Johnny has made him an absolute wreck. Simon eventually sorts out where his stuff goes before leaving.
Simon leaves and is greeted by Johnny leaving his room in a simple tank top and sweats. Simon walks out trying not to stare when the man lifts his arms high above his head to stretch and lets out the most sinful groan of relief. Simon felt his mouth go dry and his hand ached as they were curled into fists. This was going to be hard on him but he's sure he can deal.
Simon can absolutely deal with his hot as sin roommate.
#ghost x soap#ghoap#soapghost#ghostsoap#captain john price#gary roach sanderson#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#modern warfare#call of duty mw2#cod#cod fanfic#cod au#gaz x price#gazprice#ghoap fic#ghostsoap fanfic#fanfic#cod fic#alternate universe
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I'm adding to this, because apparently Severus merely joining the Death Eaters automatically makes him a murdering, mind-raping monster.
Severus was, from the beginning, treated like shit. His mother was indifferent, his father an abusive drunk. Of course, he would paint all mugges with the same brush as his father, an abuser due to Sev's being magical. Of course, he'd hate them. That is understandable.
His only brief moments of happiness as a child were with Lily, who overlooked his poverty, his "greasyness" etc, and befriended him anyway, and of course he clung to that friendship as the best thing that ever happened to him, because at that point, it was the best thing ever.
Hogwarts was Sev's escape from his father and mother, his abysmal home life. He was going with his best friend, the one good thing he had. Then, on the train, before any kind of sorting or getting-to-know could happen, James Potter insulted Snape and began his bullying for no apparent reason, other than James' bigoted beliefs.
Severus' sanctuary (Hogwarts) is marred before it even truly begins. He's sorted into Slytherin, and likely looked down upon because 1) he's dirt poor 2) he's a half-blood and 3) he's, oh, the horror, a Slytherin.
Slytherin, at Hogwarts, has been synonymous for "evil in the making" for some time. James Potter targeted Severus because of this, and he and his Maurauders made Severus' school life hell. Sev likely did all he could do to survive in Slytherin, which was conform or, during the political upheaval of the 70's, die.
Severus conformed to his Death Eater roommates' views and standards to survive, which is self-preservation at its finest. He mimicked their words and beliefs to fit in and be overlooked. If he had stood up to them, one against fuck knows how many supremacists, he'd have likely never made it out alive.
Severus made the best of a terrible situation, and the ostracism from his peers and Lily ending their friendship over a word blurted in distress pushed Severus further into the Death Eaters grasp.
I'm not saying that Severus never had a choice because he absolutely did, but the only choice he likely felt at that time was join or die. He was a Slytherin, had darker inclinations, and likely felt like he would finally belong amongst the Death Eaters, with people like him.
Severus learned the hard way how wrong he was, and did his best to get out of such a situation, and dedicated the rest of his life to making up for his mistakes.
And, in my eyes, he more than succeeded.
I don't hear people insisting that Draco and Regulus were evil, irredeemable monsters, when they also happily joined, also to rethink their actions and wanted an out. Draco even put Madame Rosmerta under the imperius and nearly got Katie killed during his quest to kill Dumbledore.
The moral is this: some people felt they didn't have a choice but to conform to what was expected of them (Sev as a Slytherin, Draco as a Malfoy, and Regulus as a Black) to survive, which is such a human thing to do, only to realize they fucked up and tried and do better. All three of these men redeemed themselves in my eyes, and they're all quite similar.
All of their redeeming actions helped Harry end Voldemort, in the end.
Just read a reddit thread and the op said "just realized that Snape only begged Voldemort for Lily's life, not James and Harry"
Yes, and I'd do the same. Why would Snape beg for Potter's life when Potter spent their school years verbally, physically, and sexually abusing him? Why would he beg for the life of a man he despised? Or the child who Voldemort wants dead, because that would end with Severus dead and, y'know, no spy for the Order.
Voldemort only agreed to let Lily live because Severus, who brought him a snippet of the prophesy, asked, and he bestowed that "gift" on Sev for his loyalty and dedication to the Death Eaters. If Sev then stretched whatever minuscule good will he had with Voldy by asking for James (his actual abuser) and the prophesy child (the child Voldy thought was a very real threat and wanted dead due to his insanity) he'd have been AK'd before he could blink, and then where the fuck would the order be without Severus Snape, spy extraordinare?
Harry would have diedvor been seriously injured first year when Quirrelmort was cursing his broom because the only one doing something was, you guessed it, Severus. Snape. All the other teachers were gaping with their thumbs up their arseholes. Because most of the teachers at hogwarts are. useless.
Severus Snape is not a good person, even I as a Pro Snape Simp Bitch can admit that. He's cold and cruel and caustic, but he is a great man. He more than deserved his redemption arc. He sacrificed everything in the name of love to protect the reckless idiot Harry James Potter and risked his life and literal soul to do as Dumbledore bid, as casting the killing curse actually marrs the soul, y'know.
You don't have to be a nice person to deserve redemption. You just have to be good and do the right thing.
#pro severus snape#fuck james potter#anti james potter#idgaf about james potter#i love severus snape#severus snape#pro snape#sevvy baby#they will never make me hate u#honestly#anti lily evans#because shes a bitch and a bad friend#hp#harry potter#anti dumbledore#regulus black#draco malfoy
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Me watching my Inquisitor walk off with Solas at the end of the game like :) "aw cute ..hey if Mythal hadn't told you to stop would you have murdered her,," (I haven't played the other endings yet).
This!!!
(Obviously, not murdered her personally, but he absolutely had no qualms about doing the ritual once more - knowing the consequences of it.)
Let me preempt this by saying that I wanted there to be a happy/fulfilling ending to Solas and Lavellan. I'm not a blind hater! Just someone who finds it very hard to put my own Lavellan in the place of the 'Lavellan' provided to us in DATV.
The Solas/Lavellan relationship already was kind of iffy (power imbalance, constantly dragging her culture, removing her vallaslin/then dumping her, constantly lying to her, etc...) but DAI did a great job of making you feel sympathetic towards his plight - especially after Trespasser! He woke up in a world so divorced from his own that it was unrecognizable - the people he had done so much for were suffering from the consequences of his actions, justified as they may have been at the time (stopping the evanuris). His actions led to great suffering in the pursuit of preventing even greater suffering.
Even after we learned of his plans in Trespasser, it was very much: "cool motive, still murder."
I felt sympathetic towards Solas and the implication that we could change his mind, given to us in Trespasser, gave me hope that we would be able to convince him of another path. That he could find a place in Thedas as it is now and look to the future. That was why I chose the option to try and get through to Solas, despite knowing that his plan would lead to mass death/terror if it went ahead.
I always expected the Veil to fall at some point, but i was hoping there'd be some more nuance to it than: veil gone, demons everywhere, lots of people die. Well, I was very wrong lmao.
But, if anything, the game made me entirely unsympathetic towards Solas.
The moment he started his ritual he chose the old elven empire over Lavellan - over her family, friends, home, culture, and anything else she may have loved/valued.
And he did this twice.
He chose to pursue lowering the Veil - knowing that thousands would likely die. For all his insistence of 'minimizing the damage' he went in knowing that many more people would die because of his actions. There was no justification of stopping the evanuris this time either - no excuse of not knowing the potential consequences of his actions like the first time.
He chose to begin the ritual that ended up releasing the Elven Gods - knowing full well the risks it entailed.
He killed Varric - whether by accident or not, it was by his hand.
He chose to use blood magic to manipulate Rook into thinking that Varric was alive - puppeting his corpse around in Rook's eyes and putting his words into Varric's mouth.
He chose to manipulate, mold, and guilt Rook into the old 'switcheroo' in his mind palace/regret prison
He chose to 'free' the elven people by bringing down the Veil - regardless of their feelings about it (elven Rook can call him out on this!), never mind the consequences or ramifications of a bunch of people suddenly having their bodily autonomy overwritten by now being magic/having immortality.
He looked at the devastation caused the by the Gods and still went ahead with trying to bring down the veil again.
These are the thing he does in-game - not even mentioning making the dwarves/titans tranquil, creating the blight, started the chain of events that led to SOUTHERN THEDAS BEING DESTROYED, and taking my good gear from Inquisition!
Aside from the 'all lore leads to Solas' reveal just being really dull it also does nothing to help with making me sympathetic to him as a character. The audacity of this man to say: "it was like walking in a world of tranquil" when he fucking lobotomized the dwarves/titans is wild in retrospect.
If he didn't do the ritual at the beginning, if something else went wrong and that resulted in the God's being released, I could understand why a Lavellan would still want to get through to him. It would make sense - she could stop him from doing it again at the end too! You can still have him conflicted and torn between the restoring the past or pursuing the future - but this doesn't happen!
He never chose Lavellan in this game! Hell, it's Mythal who convinces him to stop?!! He owes her nothing! He's learned nothing from this!!! He's only stopped because Mythal 'pardoned/freed' him - once again showing that he values the ancient elves/mythal over her!!!
How impactful would it have been to have him choose Lavellan over Mythal! To show us this! Mythal, who 'crawled through the ages for a reckoning' (which was retconned to her being sad about the elves lmao) telling Solas to go through with the ritual and him touching grass and saying 'no'.
It's something I feel was wildly out of character for him as well - he never came across in DAI as being subservient to Mythal, if anything the ending cutscene gave me the impression they were equals?!
After everything he did in this game - after all we learn about what he did in the past - I had no interest in reasoning/appealing with his ass. None whatsoever. My inquisitor/Lavellan asking if Solas can be reasoned with only made me regret making that choice - perhaps other people's inquisitor's would say that, but mine would not, especially after everything that happened in game.
She came across as delusional: standing on the ruins of a blighted Minrathous, the south blighted to hell, dead all around them, blight tentacles everywhere, a gaping hole in the Fade right next to them:
Lavellan: "I forgive you! All you have to do is stop." Solas: "But I cannot."
Boom! There it is.
At this point it's not romantic, it's just sad! Sad that she's spent 10 years pining after a man who seemed to learn nothing at all from what happened in DAI.
------------------------
There should have been some sort of a dialogue option with Lavellan right before you go into the big fight - she can ask you what you think of Solas, if he's truly regretful for everything that happened, and then you can give her an answer that can 'change' her approach to Solas in the end - giving the player some agency as to how their Inquisitor would actually respond to this.
Ending One: Bye Bye Bye
Rook: "HE'S A GUY."
alternatively, "Look around you! Look at what Solas has done - what he's threatening to do even now after all of this! You gave him every chance to turn away from this path. So did Varric...and look at what he did!"
Lavellan is bitter/angry with Solas: "It seems we never were people to you after all."
Refers to him as 'Fen'harel' and not Solas - dig the knife in deeper, give us angst!
"Just go. You love the Fade, don't you? Enough to do all this - enough to kill Varric for your pride in a dead world that no longer exists. We were never 'real' to you, were we?"
Solas says his goodbyes, expresses his love, and Lavellan steps back.
Solas leaves voluntarily, his 'situation-ship very much over', to stew in his regrets for the rest of his life.
Ending Two: Bittersweet Goodbye
Rook: "Girl, it's been 10 years."
alternatively, "You loved him once, perhaps you still do even now - after all he's done - but love wasn't enough. Love does not excuse this."
Lavellan is firm with Solas, does not excuse his actions, but has a bitter sweet farewell: "I had hoped…it doesn't matter what I hoped. You made your choice - it wasn't me. It wasn't our friends. It wasn't this world. You can make a choice now - if I ever mattered you. If I, if our friends, were ever real to you."
They can have a final goodbye, a goodbye smooch, and then he can go off to the Fade.
Bittersweet ending - acknowledge what they had and then provide closure.
Ending Three: Happy Ending (?)
Rook: "He didn't mean it babe. He's tots sorry."
alternatively, "He seems to regret what's happened - I've seen his memories, his regrets. He believes this is the only path he has. Perhaps you can convince him to find another."
Default Lavellan ending basically
"There is no fate but the love we share" blah blah blah
As happy an ending as it can be when you have Lavellan fuck off to the Fade - leaving behind her life, friends, family, and whatever remains of the world for an eternity.
I'm being mean but I genuinely wanted a happy/fulfilling ending for them both too - despite the fact that this game seems to want that ending as well, it did little to convince me of that. :(
I genuinely liked Solas in DAI - despite his flaws, I thought his romance was compelling and I was hoping to be able to convince him to change/alter his path. I can see what they were trying to do with him in DATV but it's so hard to feel sympathy for him when we see/know the results of his actions. The story in this game is doing anything but convincing me to give him a 'happy ending'.
'Love' can't excuse what he did and neither would my Lavellan.
Also RIP Sandal's Prophecy about the Fade lmao
#super compelling character#stuck in a very uncompelling story#if you're happy with the ending I'm glad! my Lavellan would have kicked his ass though#hard to feel sorry for a guy who ends up inadvertently nuking the world while planning to do a ritual that will kill thousands#Oops I accidentally pressed the nuclear missile codes instead of the regular missile codes my mistake tee hee#i would have LOVED the chance to try and change his mind btw - I WANTED TO SAVE HIM#Gareth David-Lloyd was the highlight of this game#which makes this all the more depressing#delivered the performance of a lifetime for this trainwreck of a romance ending#I've also read the post about the ending mirroring andraste and the maker and I honestly think it's pretty cool but...#counterpoint: she's Dalish#fuck the chantry#DAI Solas is superior change my mind#wasn't reduced to an exposition machine either#my cat stepped on my laptop while writing the post - i copied and pasted his message to u all:#uyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy126qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw5rtt#words of wisdom#datv spoilers#datv critical#bioware critical#dragon age the veilguard#solavellan critical
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