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stormhearty · 11 months ago

Text

Pairings: Eris x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Triggers: pining, reader being shot by arrows, mentions of bloodshed and killing

Summary: Eris watched as your body lay still in the large bed, healing from the poisonous arrows that had penetrated your body. The Autumn Heir is reminded that, no matter how much he loves you, you will always be in danger if you stay around him. Now he has to make a choice… whether to keep you in his arms and protect you with his fire or to unlock the cage and let you go free.

Note: Based on this request! Thank you @strangelygreat for your request! I love this so much. I realized that I never really listened to this song in its entirety. The Broadway version, “If I Can’t Love Her” has a similar feel — it has the same longing and distress. But I listened to <Evermore> and of course, I am in love. <Evermore>, Josh Groban’s version more specifically, has such a beautiful pining feeling; I listened to it while brainstorming and writing this song. This is also based on a scene from the manhwa “Secret Lady”, one which echoes this feeling of pining with angst. I loved this scene in this manhwa, and I highly suggest reading it! This will mostly be under Eris’ POV since the song is from the Beast’s POV as well.

I would suggest listening to the song either before reading this story or during, and please do tell me if I could portray the song correctly!! Or was able to portray a similar feeling to it.

Closing the door behind him with a silent click, Eris stepped into the dimly lit room, his steps leading to a familiar bed, one that held a familiar body underneath its sheets. A hand reached out to grab the back of a chair, dragging it across wooden floors, the echo of scraping wood resonating throughout the quiet room. Placing the chair next to the bed, he gracefully sat down, hands gripping the arms of the chair as amber hues stared at the rise and fall of your back.

The room had grown silent after that, the pitter-patter of rainfall against the large windows and your even breathing occupied the room. It rarely rained in Autumn Court, but lately, Eris felt like the weather matched his mood — bleak, dull, and sober. His gaze moved from your peaceful features to the bandages on your back, the blackened blood that seeped through the white cloth.

It had been a month.

A month since the day you had stepped in front of those poisonous arrows, ones covered with ash — ones that were marked towards him — and almost had your life taken away in front of his very eyes.

He watched as your eyes looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips, the words that slipped from your lips haunting him to this day: “You're okay…”

Eris felt himself stiffen in the chair, hearing the echo of your words through his body. He felt the wood creak underneath his fingertips, his claws splinting the wood underneath them.

He could still see it — how your body slumped against his, that arrow penetrated your skin; how the blood seeped from that wound through your ball gown. He could still smell it — that blood that tricked from the edge of your mouth and onto his pristine clothes. He could still feel it — how your body slowly started to become cold in his warm hands, how your pulse slowed underneath his palm.

The scene was still vivid in his mind — a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked in Autumn Court; on the dangers that followed him. On how every single moment that you lay in this bed, barely hanging into the thread of life — was another reminder to the Autumn Heir that he had started to become selfish — especially when it came to you.

For the longest time, he had restrained himself, his feelings, his obsession when it came to you. You were a fleeting moment — he constantly told himself — one that was not meant to be caged, especially not by him. Not in the political battlefield such as Autumn Court. Not where his brothers waited in the shadows to strike him down every waking second. Not where his father was looking for any weakness to use against him as punishment.

You weren't meant to stay by him, he had concluded.

Eris knew that — from the moment he laid eyes on you, all those years ago.

How you were a breath of fresh air in his suffocating world. You were his haven… an escape from the constant pressures of his Court. He wouldn’t have minded if the world had faded away — all that mattered was you. And Eris knew, oh how he knew, and that very thought was intoxicating and dangerous. All he had wanted to do was to keep you within arm-length, to be able to whisk you away when need be.

But he couldn’t.

“(Y/N)…” Eris murmured your name in the darkness, like a lover whispering sweet nothings.

“I can tell you now…”

Amber hues stared at your sleeping form, unaware of the truth that he was about to spill. Eris knew that the walls listened, his own home against him. But he needed to get it off his chest, to let the world know.

“You were my Goddess for the longest time…”

He shifted slightly to pull pieces of porcelain from his pocket — a broken miniature statue, one that Eris had held onto for all these years. He glanced at the pieces before shifting his hand, to allow them to fall to the wooden floor, the sound barely reaching his ears.

“You were something that I could admire from far away, keeping you at arms distance. Something that I could look at and never touch, never hold. I wasn’t afraid to think of you back then… to wish and yearn for you… To miss you. I never wanted to know who you were, never wanted to know more about you. I was content with just looking.

“But, when I saw you that day… During my coming-of-age ceremony, all those centuries ago, could you imagine — - no… you could never understand how I felt that day.”

You were radiant. A bright light in his dim world. Even in a crowded room, he could spot you from a mile away. You radiated warmth, kindness… purity. Something absent in his world of hatred and betrayal.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, a hand coming up to run through his copper locks before running down his face, pressing against his eyes to prevent the burn of tears.

“It was the first time in my entire life… I wanted nothing more to do than run.

“You were gorgeous. And for the life of me, I couldn’t look at you without having my heart beat frantically in my chest. I felt like my heart would jump out, for the world to see how much you had affected me.

“Was this love? Was this devotion? Did this shift of emotion mean that I could never be able to seek you out again? That I could never be able to think freely of you? I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to.

“I thought that I would be able to manipulate myself into not loving you. How could I? I didn’t know you… all I had loved was what I could see on the outside. I thought I could manipulate myself into thinking to not fall in love with someone I did not know.

“I had thought it would be easy. I rarely saw you, except on passing occasions… Superficial words of greetings in loud halls. It was fine, for centuries, for me to just silently yearn for you. To allow myself not to hold you tight…”

A broken laugh paused his monologue, his hand dropping back onto the arms of the chair as he looked at you. He shifted out of the chair and moved to sit at the edge of the bed close to your form. Eris reached over, wanting nothing more than to feel your skin underneath his hand — to ensure you were still there… alive. He hesitated, his hand hovering over your back, only to move to gently grasp a piece of your hair. He leaned down and pressed a kiss on that one lock of hair.

“But that night, all those months ago, when you sought me out in the forest, knocking frantically on that small cabin door. You had sacrificed your safety to forewarn me of the assassination attempt by my brother. I knew I had to push you away, I had to keep you hidden from the prying eyes of my father and brothers. For they would know, if I had been a moment too late, pulling you in and hiding you within that closet, they would have known how much you had affected me.

“I knew that I should have let you go that night. I shouldn’t have held your hand and pulled you into that cabin. I should have let you run away from this cage I call my home.

“But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t let you go, not when you were the one who sought me out. For the first time in centuries, you were the one who looked for me.”

Fingers dropped that lock of hair, as he settled his elbows onto his knees, hands, once again, pressing against his face as the tears finally broke… cascading down his cheeks in a never-ending river. He cried in silence, afraid that any sob or cry of grief would wake you up from your slumber.

You were finally within arms grasp.

Eris could reach out and hold you in his arms, to press his lips against yours. To love you as he had wanted.

“I couldn’t lie to myself anymore, (Y/N)… I wanted more. I wanted nothing more than to hold you in my arms, kiss you in the dead of night, make you moan my name as we made love… I wanted to drink up everything that you had given me. I wanted your eyes to shine only for me.

“And I regretted it so much.”

Eris felt every regret seep into his body — he regretted letting you into his life, into his world of fire.

“You mustn’t let her lay on her back—-” the priestess hummed out, as the glow from her hands faded away, fixing the bandage to cover the wound.

Eris watched, dull amber eyes staring at your face for any indications of pain. He held you in his arms, your head resting against his shoulder as the priestess healed the wound on your back.

“—-For it may fester with the moisture that can build up. You must lay her on her stomach, to let the wound breathe…” The gentle hands of the priestess ran over the wound, and Eris felt you shift in his arms, your face scrunching in pain. He felt himself growl at the priestess, amber eyes lighting in anger.

The priestess bowed in apology, “—- Her feeling pain is better than feeling nothing, my Lord.” With one last bow, the priestess swept away, passing the Lady of Autumn as the doors closed.

Eris didn’t pay attention to his mother, not when you were shivering in his arms. He sighed softly, bringing you closer to his warmth, letting the fire that breathed under his skin warm you. Fingers ran through your tangled hair, trying to undo the knots that came upon you while you were asleep.

“Why did you let (Y/N) into the Forest House?” Lady of Autumn asked her son, finally breaking up the silence of that room.

It had been a day after the incident — a day after you had taken the arrow that should have taken his life. A day since the priestess worked their magic to try to save you from the brink of death.

Eris had been nothing but a statue, forgoing his duties as the Heir of Autumn Court to just sit in that very room, watching you breathe — as if afraid that if he turned away from your body, you would disappear.

He glanced up at his mother for a moment before he leaned down to bury his head into the crook of your shoulder, the feeling and sound of your breathing calming him, reassuring him that you were still alive in his arms.

“Why did you have to —-”

“Mother…” he breathed out, interrupting her question.

Lady Autumn raised a brow, lips pressing as she allowed her son to explain.

“Imagine there is someone you wanted to protect, would do anything to protect. And you realize… that the person you wanted nothing more to protect was in danger because of you. What would you do?”

Eris shifted so he could lay you back on the bed, gently laying you down on your stomach as the priestess told him to do. He sat at the edge of the bed, tugging the bedsheet to cover your lower half, allowing your back to breathe in the cooling air.

“I would do whatever in my power… to ensure their safety…” she answered him.

Eris ran his hand down your back gently once more before he stood up, his feet dragging him over to the window as amber hues stared out into his Court.

“And that’s what I did, Mother… That night, after I had killed Tharetiur, his blood splattered on the wood of that cabin. After (Y/N) had fallen asleep in my bed, I stepped out into the night, wondering what I could do to ensure she was safe. I couldn’t let her go home, not after running for god knows how long to warn me of Tharetiur’s assassination attempt.

“… I had turned to Drucand —-” Eris’s right hand, one of the few people in Autumn Court he could trust with his life, “—-I asked him, ‘Where is the safest place in all of Prythian?’ I watched as Drucan stared at me for a moment, as if I asked a stupid question, before reaching for the holster of his sword…”

Eris remembered how Drucand pulled that holster from his waist and proceeded to hand him his sword.

“’ Heir of Autumn Court, the first son of Beron and Lady Autumn. The Heir whose blood runs with flames. The safest place… would be in your arms, with your fire and sword in hand.’”

A laugh broke out of Eris, his head shaking at the thought.

“I wanted to send her off, wanted to keep the distance between myself and her… But, I couldn’t. And I started to selfishly think that keeping her by my side, with that sword in my hand, might be the most reasonable solution to ensure her safety. I thought… that no danger would touch a hair on her head, not when I would protect her as my hounds do for me…

“But I failed… I failed, Mother…”

Eris turned around and faced his mother, tears finally breaking through his composure. His voice shook at every confession and every truth he thought knew.

“…It seemed that the Gods and the Mother above had led me to her. Fated us to be together… and yet ripped us apart the moment they thought we had gotten too close. That I had gotten too close to her. It seemed that they used her… her kindness, her warmth, her love… as punishment for me and my discretions…”

Eris believed with his whole being that you were his eternal punishment — for forgetting his promise to forget you, to punish him for yearning for you. Your kiss with death… was his punishment for falling in love with you.

The Heir watched as his mother let out a light sob before rushing towards him, holding him in her arms as he broke — as he finally broke. Eris sobbed, his body collapsing onto the ground in the arms of his mother, his hands wrapping around her as he grasped her shoulders, his body shuddering and breaking.

All because he had failed to protect you.

Amber eyes focused on your body once more, as he slipped out of the memory, the tears drying on his cheeks, determination in the depths of his eyes.

“(Y/N)… I had brought you into my life out of a momentary desire. A want, a selfish want, rather than a need. You were no longer the Goddess that I could bask in your light and warmth. You became a person — a living, breathing person — someone who cried and smiled… someone who showed your heart on your sleeve despite living in a Court that could use that against you.

“You showed me that you were like me, alive. I got to know you, your little habits — how you would bite your nails in concentration, how you would fiddle with the ends of your hair when you were nervous. You were an open book — one that I read so easily and greedily.”

How could he resist falling in love with you?

He couldn’t.

Not when you had accepted his flaws, accepted the darkest side of him — and in the end never turned your back on him. You had stuck next to him, in the horrors of his own Court, sticking out your neck for him every second.

How could he not fall in love with you and declare to let you leave?

How could he just have let you go like that? Not when you weaved your soul into his heart and stole it for yourself.

He couldn’t live without your hand in his, your body next to his own in the dead of the night. He couldn’t live without you.

But yet, there he was, he had been so close to losing you. To the terrors of his brother.

He didn’t regret it.

He didn’t regret the bloodshed that night after Drucand had taken your body from his arms.

All he saw was red, and he had no hesitance in taking Drucand’s sword, using his powers to wrap it in flames, and slaughtering his brothers in front of his father and mother.

There had been no ounce of regret in his blood at the sight of their bodies on those marble floors, blood pooling around them. He stared at his father with a glare, before handing Drucand the blood-covered sword back and taking your wounded body into his arms and striding out.

Eris would kill for you, again and again, if he had to. He would cover himself in blood… a sword in his hands, all for you. He would burn Prythian in flames… all so that he would never lose you again.

It was such a dangerous thought.

You were a dangerous addiction to him.

“(Y/N)… What if…”

There was only one way for him to fulfill his promise — his promise to the Gods, to the Mother.

He leaned over your body, his hand gently running down your leg, over your calf, and grasping your foot.

“What if I would carve my heart out, severing my feelings for you… Would that be enough to protect you and keep you alive from the dangers of my life?”

Eris pressed a kiss against the top of your foot, a notion of devotion from the Heir of Autumn Court.

“If that would be the case… then I would gladly take my sword, and hand you my bleeding heart. To show my eternal devotion and my love for you…”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #eris x reader #eris angst #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar fandom #eris vanserra x reader #( .inbox request: notions of devotion )#( .inbox request )

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fun-k-board · 1 year ago

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Okay so like I saw a lot of MK intro headcannons and they're SOOO good soo

MK intros with Johnny where the reader is like a famous popstar and the two have a constant "will they won't they" (aka A LOT of flirting)

- 😵‍💫 anon (claiming it rn)

Johnny Cage X Gender Neutral Popstar Reader Intros

Notes(s) : It's nice to meet you 😵‍💫 anon, I've never done MK intros before, well I have but they're all in my drafts, so, I hope these are good!

It's not majorly nsfw, but I don't really know how to write flirting without some dirty moments? So, I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted.

Johnny : Fuck, that live show you did? You trying to kill me?

Reader : If that's how you react to me without a shirt then I can't wait to show you more.

Johnny : I love your new single, you should feature in my next movie.

Reader : And what role would I be playing, Cage?

Reader : I don't like how you look at Kenshi...

Johnny : And I don't like how you look at Kuai Liang.

Reader : How about a kameo in my next music video?

Johnny : Only if I can be the sexy, shirtless love interest

Reader : I'm so glad you're fighting shirtless

Johnny : Hah, so is everybody else!

Reader : I think Kung Lao is jealous of you.

Johnny : My fighting skills or that I got to bag you?

Reader : I have a new song idea just staring at you...

Johnny : I can't wait to listen to it while we spend some time alone together

Johnny : Come on, let's just leave them, you know you want me.

Reader : We can't abandon training, Johnny.

Reader : Stick you in jeans and a crop top on stage and the crowds go wild.

Johnny : I can't wait to surprise your fans by showing up.

Johnny : So, you interested in men? More specifically, me?

Reader : Do you think you could handle me if I am?

Johnny : So, I have this amazing idea for a movie.

Reader : If it's the dragon idea again I swear to god, Cage.

Johnny : Training for the tournament is so boring.

Reader : If only we had something to entertain us.

Johnny : We should have a movie night.

Reader : So you can feel me up in the dark?

Johnny : I'm so sorry I had to skip out on your performance-

Reader : Don't worry, Cage, it wasn't anything major...

Reader : I'm pretty sure the entirety of Outworld saw you eyeing me up.

Johnny : I'm about 100% sure that it was the other way around.

#mk1 johnny cage #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x gn reader #johnny cage #mortal kombat 1 x gn reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 x gn reader #mortal kombat headcanons #johnny cage headcanons #mortal kombat 1 headcanons #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat 12 #mk12

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monzabee · 2 years ago

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girl crush – dr3

masterlist || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where both you and Daniel meet your celebrity crushes in the course of a weekend, and decide to give it a go.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader

Word Count: 4522

Warnings: fluff, shy daniel, shy reader, max being a menace (we love you max), awkwardness, 2023 australian gp, oscars (i love you Jamie Lee Curtis, you rock), slight age gap? (the reader is around the same age as Max)

Request: this is a long one besties, but you can read the request here! + “Hello! Can I please request nepo!reader who's an actress and maybe has an oscar or something? Maybe with Lewis or Daniel”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this title changed so many times i lost track, but at the end, i went with the song – mainly because harry styles. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but this was very hard to write because i had BIG plans for it, so i’m sorry it took a while for me to finish it. also, i listened to a lot of la la land for some reason, so here you go. i hope i did it justice, and this was definitely very fun to write and i had a great time writing it, so thank you, to the anons, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Growing up with parents who were obsessed with Formula One had finally taken its toll on you, you decide as you walk towards the Red Bull Hospitality. Your father’s sudden retirement from acting, combined with your mother’s stubborn personality is the reason why you suddenly find yourself at the 2023 Australian Grand Prix. You don’t really know why they didn’t wait for the one in Miami, or perhaps Las Vegas, since their primary residence is in the US, but you had no choice but to join them when they pulled out the ‘We’re getting old’ card. So there you are, after 15 hours of flying over the Pacific Ocean, in Melbourne and ready to enjoy the racing weekend. Or so you think – because you spend the entirety of Friday catching up on lost sleep while cursing every single time your parents decide to call you to let you know how much of a great time they’re having.

In the end, you get ready Saturday morning, to get breakfast with your parents before leaving for Albert Park. Just as you’re about to leave your room, your eyes fall on a familiar hat, adorned with a certain number, and you put it on your head without giving it a second thought. Your parents don’t comment on your choice of merchandise even if they find it odd, which is good, you think, because you don’t particularly want to hear your father tease you over your “teenage crush”. The whole paddock is buzzing by the time you get there, and you immediately feel guilty because you missed the practice sessions the previous day. You quickly lose your parents to the crowd around you, too busy looking at the action around you, when you hear your name being called from somewhere. You look around trying to find the source of the voice, when you find a familiar face which makes you smile.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” You ask, quickly pulling Samira for a hug, who in return points to the camera.

“Weekend job, babe.” She laughs. “I’ve interviewed your father just a couple of minutes ago, actually.”

“Oh no,” You laugh and shake your head. “Did he tell you about his petunias?” “He did, indeed.” Samira nods and hands you one of the microphones in her hand. “Are you up for a quick interview?” She asks you as she gives you an innocent smile.

You nod while letting out a chuckle. “Well, someone has to save your viewers from my father’s garden talk, so why not?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Samira tells you, her words coming of a bit slurred because of the way she talks too fast. She then turns to the camera after making sure that your mic is working. “Welcome back to the second day of the Australian Grand Prix, I’m here with Y/N Y/LN, whose father we just spoke to; Y/N, is this a family day out, or what?”

“This is definitely a family day out, Samira.” You laugh, nodding to strengthen your point. “Not a very usual one, we usually prefer to stay a bit more local for the weekend outings, but you never know where we’ll be next, I guess.”

“By ‘local’, do you mean the Oscars, perhaps? I mean, can we talk about your win for a moment? How does it feel to be the receiver of the award for the Actress in a Supporting Role?”

You take a deep breath as you feel your smile widen, as you can’t even try to hide your happiness. “It feels amazing, let me tell you. It was an amazing opportunity and I can’t thank enough to the lovely director and everyone who made the movie possible.” Samira nods with a satisfied look on her face as you answer. “Congratulations once again for your win. I have to ask, big Red Bull fan?” She asks you in a teasing voice.

“What?” You asked, confused. Only to realise the hat sitting on your head when she points to it with a silent chuckle. You let out a laugh while instinctively touching the hat on your head. “Oh god, you could say so, I guess; yeah.”

“I mean, I have to comment on the obvious part here.” She points to the hat while shooting the camera a look. “Number 3? You do realise the changes in the grid, don’t you?”

You laugh at her teasing voice, shrugging and smiling with an innocent look. “What can I say, I like to avoid the reality and live in my delusions.” After a few more teasing from Samira, you explain with a laugh, “No jokes, though, I honestly hope Daniel Ricciardo returns to Red Bull somehow because I don’t know how I’ll cope without him for another season.”

“A big Danny Ric fan, then, I presume?” Samira asks, pointedly.

“Oh yeah, been for a while now.”

After you’re done with your interview and bid adieu to Samira, who thanks you a dozen times more, you find your parents at the Red Bull hospitality, speaking with none other than Christian Horner himself, accompanied by Max. It’s a slightly awkward transition when you join their conversation, but it passes quickly. It doesn’t take long for your parents to be involved with their own conversation with the team principle, and for you and Max to speak amongst yourselves. Although you ask him every single question that comes to your mind about racing, whether it makes sense or not, and he answers each of them without discouraging you.

He pulls a funny face when he realises your choice of merch, pointing to your hat with a mischievous smile on his face. “Interesting choice, I would have gone with Checo.”

You roll your eyes and huff, taking your hat in the process. “You’re just jealous because it’s not your number, Max.”

“You wanna try that again?” Max raises his eyebrows.

“So what if I’m wearing his number?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest. “He’s a very good driver.”

“Who is not driving this seaso– Ow! Stop it!” Max exclaims as you hit his arm repeatedly in an attempt to stop him talking. “I hope you’re just as charming when you meet him.”

You pull a face while asking, “What do you mean ‘when I meet him’?”

He gives you an unamused look. “You’re either a very good actress, or you are very bad at checking your social media.” His eyes widen when you match his look, which tells him everything he needs to know. “You know he’s around, right? He’s shooting promo stuff, I think.”

“What do you mean he’s around?” You shriek in an attempt to hide your hat, as if Daniel is actually around to see it.

“Yeah, wait, let me call him.” He takes out his phone and quickly dials him before you have the opportunity to tell him not to do that, but he quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket when he spots someone familiar over your shoulder and waves them over.

Your eyes widen as you hiss, “You’re the worst, you know that?”

He winks at you a playfully in return, “Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.” Then, he shakes the hand of the driver, who finally makes his way to both of you, and pulls him into what you can only describe as a ‘bro hug’. “Hello, man.”

“Hello, mate.” Daniel greets him back. His eyes widen in recognition when he catches your eyes over Max’s shoulder, and he side-steps to shake your hand with excitement, which only makes you clutch the hat closer to your chest. “Hello, you’re Y/N Y/LN. Oh my god, I’m a big fan!”

“M-me too!” You manage to get out, and then quickly add, “A big fan of you, not myself. That would be very egotistical of me.” You inhale a sharp breath as you ignore the look Max gives you, and close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Please ignore that, I think the jet lag is finally catching up with my brain.”

“Sure, we’ll call it the jet lag.” Max mumbles, which earns him a hit with your elbow in his ribs. “Ow!”

“I’m this close to switching teams and supporting Mercedes instead.” You lift your hand to show the minimal space you’ve left between your thumb and pointer-finger.

“I think I should take over, here before you drive her away, Max.” He jokingly shakes his hand in a motion to make him go away, and then turns you with a warm smile as Max leaves the two of you to join some of the engineers nearby. “Now, should we get you a Red Bull?”

Talking to Daniel is very easy, you realise quickly. Once you (both) get over your shyness, the conversation just flows in a way you’re not used to. He, too, answers any questions you might have like Max did, but the look in his eyes are different when you show interest in something he’s particularly passionate about. He asks you about receiving your first Oscar, and you ask him about how his wine business is going – which ends up with him promising to send a few bottles over so that you can give it your stamp of approval; you both decide that your review is going be on the back of the bottles.

“But doesn’t it get into your eyes when you’re spraying it?” You ask him, trying to comprehend how the champagne they spray doesn’t go everywhere. “And doesn’t it burn? It has alcohol, and… bubbles.”

“You might be onto something here.” He mumbles in thought, thinking whether the champagne burned his eyes or not. “Occupational hazard?” He asks in an uncertain voice, hoping it satisfies your question as an answer.

“Oh, right.” You nod, taking another sip from the can he got you. “It’s crazy, you’ve won like what? 8 races? That’s crazy, you’re crazy.” The way you keep saying whatever comes to your mind makes Daniel smile as the energy you’re feeling taking over your body for the time being. “Wow, I’ve never felt like this, is this what energy drinks do to you?”

“Probably why you shouldn’t drink too much.” He agrees.

“Sorry.” You smile apologetically, suddenly very aware of the fact that you are, in fact, rattling nonsense in front of your biggest celebrity crush. “You must think I’m crazy, and I shouldn’t be holding you back. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Daniel is panicking inside when you start to get up, his mind scrambling up words to find a way to make you stay – he feels like a kid who’s asking his parents to let him play for a little longer. It’s not that he is not a social person, he is, but the conversation the two of you share is one of the most meaningful ones to him, even though you’re not actually talking about anything that deep. But he realises there is no pretences with you, no expectations, nothing to hide. He enjoys the way you speak what’s on your mind, whether it might be complimentary or the opposite, but he enjoys how you present your opinion and why you have it. He knows he’s extremely starstruck at that very moment, god knows he’s met enough famous people to know what it feels like, but it’s the kind of starstruck that makes him want to be not shy about it. He wants to keep talking to you for as long as you can tolerate him, because in his mind, he might be the one who is butchering the whole conversation up just by shutting up and succumbing to his shyness. He’s hyperaware of the fact that he has held himself back over the past hour, just because he was thinking about the fact that your hair is looking very shiny under the Australian sun and it is his number on your hat. It’s not something the two of you talked about, yet, but when he realises that it is his number on it, there is this inexplicable pride surging over him.

So, with his entire courage, he says, “Stay.” He clears his throat to buy himself some time to think of something else to say. “I mean, I don’t have anything else I need to do, and it’s very nice to talk to you. So, you know, if you want to, we could maybe, I don’t know, continue to talk?”

“Oh.” You let out a breath, eyes wide with excitement (and a little bit of apprehension), but despite all the nervousness you’re feeling, you find yourself back in your seat, and mumbling. “Of course, it’s very nice to speak with you too.”

And so you find yourself immersed in another conversation with the Aussie seated across from you. He is open about the past year – which as a fan you’re dying to know what happened, but don’t want to question him because he is only human after all. But for some reason, it comes naturally to talk about his pseudo-retirement with you. He tells you about his plans for the year, and how he hopes to get back to a seat by the start of the next season. In return, you tell him about the time how you almost stopped acting, but the last project you gave a change brought you an Oscar. It’s a much deeper conversation than before, but somehow you find yourself talking without feeling nervous to do so – without any second thoughts.

“I, uh, I like your hat.” He smiles nervously, pointing to the discarded hat on your lap.

You laugh nervously as your fingers occupy themselves with the visor of the cap. “Thanks, it’s my favourite.”

“Yeah?” The question that leaves his mouth is so soft that you think you would miss it if your eyes weren’t so focused on him.

“Oh, yeah.” You assure him with a little shrug. “Much better than orange, let me tell you, I look hideous in orange.”

A large smile finds its way onto your lips when he lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I somehow find it impossible to believe.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Daniel.” You tease, causing him to smirk back at you. He doesn’t answer you, but instead looks at you with a very particular look which confirms what you’ve just said. Your small stare-down is sadly broken apart by Max, who calls out Daniel’s name to let him know that Christian is looking for him.

There is a sad look in his eyes when he realises that he has to go for real this time, but you give him a sad smile as you let him know you’ll be watching the screens for him during the quali. As you feel the wind breezing around you, you instinctively wrap your arms around your middle to get rid of the shiver the colder air provides. A look of recognition passes through Daniel’s face as he asks, “Are you cold?”

“A little, but it’s oka–”

“I’ll be right back.” Daniel announces as he leaves you and Max, causing the latter to turn to you with his phone in his hand. Max lets out a deep sigh, mumbling something under his breath in a language you don’t recognise, most likely Dutch.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, head tilted to the side to try and see what he’s looking at on his phone. He turns it to you after a while, apparently finding what he was looking for. “What’s that?” You ask, pointing to the phone which displays a paused video of Daniel sitting in a chair.

“He’ll probably kill me once he realises I’ve made you watch this, but the way the two of you looking at each other like lovesick puppies is making me nauseous.” He points to the phone with his head. “Play it.”

You give him a sceptical look, but do as he says and press the little triangle in the middle of the screen. The interview starts to play, and Daniel is talking about racing and the ongoing season. You let the video play for a while before looking up at Max again, more confused. “What am I supposed to see?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Max groans, taking his phone out of your hand and fast-forwarding the video to find what he’s looking for. “Here.”

You press play on the video once again, but this time it starts with the interviewer asking Daniel about his celebrity crush. While he’s thinking about his answer in the video, you throw an unamused look at Max, who urges you to direct your attention back to the video. Just as you move your eyes back onto the screen, his answer echoes through the phone speakers which makes your eyes widen. “What?” You ask Max as you scramble to play back the section of the interview.

“So, any celebrity crushes we should be keeping our eyes out for?” The interviewer asks, out of frame.

There is a thoughtful look on his face as he thinks about his answer and once he decides, there is a smile breaking on his face. “I mean, probably Y/N Y/LN. I’ve watched everything she’s in, probably multiple times, she’s just so talented.”

You watch that particular part of the video back a couple of times before Max takes his phone out of your hands with a look asking if you’re okay. “When was this?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “A couple of years back, but I don’t think his answer has changed over the years.”

You blink a couple of times, trying to digest the fact that your celebrity crush also named you as his celebrity crush. “Oh, wow.”

Daniel returns a few moments later with a hoodie in his hands. He smiles at you warmly as he hands it to you. “Here, that should help.”

“Oh, Daniel, you didn’t have to.” You breath out, taking the hoodie out of his hand and putting it on with his help when he gives you a look that says he won’t accept it back. After you fix the oversized hoodie on you, you turn to him with a smile as you also put on the hat on your head.

The smile he gives you in return when he sees you in his number and merch fills your stomach with butterflies, and Max must be feeling weird about being a part of the scene because he lets Daniel know that he’ll wait at the garage. As Max leaves, Daniel turns back at you with a sad smile on his face. “I really don’t wanna leave, but–”

“You have a job to do, Daniel.” You smile with an understanding, putting an encouraging hand on his forearm. “Although I would love to keep you to myself, I’m sure there are fans out in the world who would love to see you back as much as I do.”

He lets out a small groan. “Please tell me you’ll be here tomorrow as well.”

“Well, I came all this way to watch the race too, so I’ll probably be around.” You tease him.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks you in a hopeful voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You affirm.

After a final look, both of start walking in different directions. And just as you’re about to leave the hospitality, you hear him call out your name. When you turn to look at him over your shoulder you hear him yell, “My number looks good on you.”

In retrospect, you wanted to arrive earlier to find a certain driver, but you couldn’t sleep last night because you couldn’t stop thinking about the day’s events. So when you wake up later than your alarm Sunday morning, you rush to get ready to leave your hotel room. By the time you arrive at Albert Park, it’s almost noon. You’re not late to see the race, there is still couple of hours until the big event, but your eyes look around the chaotic hospitality to spot Daniel. You can see a few familiar faces, some engineers you met yesterday and the drivers talking to some crew members near the garage, but there is a small frown on your face as you keep looking for the Australian driver. You’re about to give up when, suddenly, you feel someone grabbing your arm – which makes you jump back with a shriek.

“You scared me!” You exclaim, looking at the stranger who, thankfully, lets go of your arm after your outburst. “Sorry, can I help you?”

“Sorry! I thought you were lost and looking for your boyfriend.” They respond, pointing towards the garages. “I saw him enter a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t have a–” You start the say, but the person is already starting to walk away to the opposite direction. “Boyfriend.” You sigh, deciding to take the advice and see if Daniel might be at the garage after all.

If you thought there was a chaos outside the garage, you’re greatly wrong, because the only word you can use to describe the Red Bull garage is chaotic. There are crew members everywhere, trying to get the cars ready for the upcoming race. So, you do your best to slip through them without disturbing their work. Some of the members you met yesterday greet you, which makes you smile as you greet them back. You catch a familiar set of eyes, which lose the boredom in them and widen with recognition once they meet yours and he starts walking towards you.

He's beaming by the time he reaches you, as he exclaims, “You’re here!”

“Hi!” You greet him and then pull him for a quick hug.

“I’m glad you made it, Y/N.” He smiles down at you, without letting you go, and then gestures around the garage. “Have you looked around?”

You nod, matching his smile as you look up at him, “A little bit when I came in, it’s crazy out there today?”

He lets out an affirmative voice. “It’s always like that during a race day. Where are you watching the race from?”

“The Paddock Club, I think?” You answer him with a small frown. “We watched the quali from there yesterday.”

He pulls away from you slowly, and begrudgingly, holding your hand and starts to pull you away from the entrance. “I have a better idea.” He walks you towards the front of the garage, stopping right in front of the barriers and asking a crew member for a headset.

There is a playful smile on his face when he turns to you with them in his hands, which makes your eyes widen with concern. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?”

He waves his hand, passing the headset to you as he assures, “Of course, it’s the best seat in the house. Plus, it’ll be easier for us to find each other.”

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” You ask him as you do your best to narrow your eyes.

“Absolutely, yes.” He nods with excitement. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of my celebrity crush.”

You giggle in response. “Oh, I know. Max made me watch a video.”

“He– what?”

“It was a lovely compliment.” You assure him, patting his arm with a sympathetic smile.

“I’m going to kill–” He begins to say, but one of the engineers call out his name, telling him that they need him before the race. He turns to you with a groan, jumping over the barriers instead of going through the door, which makes you chuckle, and points to you while walking backwards. “We have to talk about this.”

“We will.” You assure him. Just as you watch him walk by, you call out, “Daniel!”

“Yeah?” He calls back at you.

“You’re my celebrity crush, too.”

Instead of answering he winks at you over his shoulder, which makes you giggle. You’re sure that you’re also blushing, but decide not to think about it too much and focus on the race which is starting. You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, from the start to the second restart to the end. The people around you are not much different, everybody holding their breaths every time one of the cars make a sharp turn. You let out an occasional gasp, or wince throughout the entire race, your hands covering your shocked expression. But, at the end, you’re happy to see that Max is P1 and Checo managed to finish the race in P5. Everyone around you seems to be sharing your opinions, since they are celebrating the good results when you take off your headset.

Daniel finds you eventually, after speaking with some of the engineers and pit crew, and there is a huge smile on his face as he asks, “So, how’d you like it?”

“Are you kidding me? It was insane!” You exclaim, using your hands to relay your point. “Eight cars, Daniel, eight cars! That’s crazy!”

“I get you’ve liked it?” He asks, his eyebrows raising.

You let out a scoff while shaking your head. “Of course I liked it!”

“I’m glad you liked it, Y/N.” He smiles, “So, I’m your celebrity crush, huh?”

“Oh please, you already knew it!” You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “I’m wearing your number, aren’t I?”

He shrugs, letting his hands occupy themselves with the end of the hoodie you’re wearing. “And it looks good on you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at your eyes as he asks, “You’re wearing it again today? Isn’t it some sort of fashion crime in Hollywood?”

“Well, I’ve never fit in much anyway.” You shrug, letting a smirk break at your lips. “It might just become my favourite item of clothing, just so you know.”

“Yeah? I’m happy to hear that.”

“You should be, I’m very particular about my hoodies.”

He smiles at your comment, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes for some reason. “When is your flight back?”

“Tuesday.” You answer him, suddenly very aware of the fact that you don’t have much time left in Melbourne at all. “But I can be convinced to stay for longer.”

His eyes widen with surprise, excitement taking over the sad look in record time. “You can? Really?” You nod your head, which makes him pull you closer to him with the hand still holding your hoodie. “Let me take you out on a date.” His eyes seem to beg.

You nod your head once again, tilting your head backwards to keep your gaze locked to his. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Yes? Are you sure? It’s the point of no return.” There is a playful tone to his voice.

You roll your eyes, taking off your cap and placing it onto his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, ‘honey badger’.” You tease. “Who knows? You might just convince me to say a while longer.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, too.” He echoes your words from earlier.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff

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yanderes-galore · 1 month ago

Note

One Piece Yandere Brook Concept?

Yandere! Brook Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Fear of abandonment, Perverted behavior, Stalking, Jealousy, Murder, Dubious companionship/relationship.

When it comes to writing Brook, I struggle on if I should make him platonic or romantic.

He's pervy in nature similar to Sanji, yet he's the oldest Straw Hat in the crew.

I can probably see him taking on a grandfather-like role with his obsession, even if they are a woman.

He may be teasing in his comments but if he was platonic he wouldn't pursue a romantic relationship with you.

Although, while I feel he'd be more likely to take a platonic role, I can ALSO see him as a romantic yandere who tends to breach his obsession's privacy.

I feel one of the reasons Brook would have an obsession over you is because of his past.

He's been alone for decades after his crew died.

Not only that but the way they died was rather brutal....

He's been alone and isolated for way too long.

He's a gentleman yet also very vulgar.

He's the oldest of the crew yet is still able to experience childish wonder.

He appreciates the simple things, hates cruelty, and is protective/supportive of his crew.

Brook yearns for companionship.

He's waited a long time to find a crew he can stay beside again.

Honestly, I can see him being very caring of his obsession.

He's playful with them, often making jokes and wanting them comfortable around him.

As a musician, I can also see Brook playing music for his obsession no matter the occasion.

He likes to impress you, always finding a new song in his arsenal to play for you.

He finds even more after the timeskip when he's a rockstar.

Like the rest of the crew, you're also subjected to song right when you get up.

Brook may be teasing, but I imagine he respects you.

He feels it would be wrong as a gentleman to disrespect his obsession, especially if they make such wonderful company.

He appreciates every little thing you do and seems very attentive to your emotions.

Brook wants to be the perfect gentleman and companion to you.

He may be a skeleton, but he still has a "heart".

Probably metaphorically.

In terms of his yandere type, I can see him as protective for the most part.

He'd do whatever it took to keep you happy and motivated towards your goals.

I don't really know if Brook would feel jealous, though.

He's a man who knows he's lived his life through.

It really isn't his say on who you should talk to or not.

Although if you were neglecting him, then he has a problem.

He's primarily a protective yandere when platonic, romantic he becomes flirty and perverted.

I feel a romantic Brook would probably steal a few things from you.

Then struggle to explain his motives when he's caught.

Brook might stalk, but it comes off more silly than anything else.

Like the entirety of his being.

Like, you'd probably find Brook in really strange places, but he always has some sort of excuse.

He never likes to admit he's been watching you.

Be that because he's worried for you or just... being pervy... He doesn't want to admit to it either way.

His obsession may be difficult to deal with at times... But he doesn't like the thought of scaring you.

Brook has a certain way of speaking that's rather charming.

He likes to be charming of you, often teasing you just to see you smile.

That and the countless jokes he says to you.

He's endless with the jokes and songs.

The biggest thing that would concern him is being neglected, forgotten, or just ignored.

He understands that having other companions is only natural.

He can't be your favorite... Please tell him he's your favorite.

Brook would get distressed if his obsession wasn't paying attention to him.

You two would often have tea on the ship, you'd listen to his music, you'd laugh at his jokes...

But when he notices distance... He feels uneasy.

Now you're hanging around with others...

He likes you being social, yet part of him tells him you'll forget about him.

He's worried he won't matter to you anymore if you get close to anyone else.

He likes to think he's not the jealous type...

Although he's starting to get a bit concerned.

Brook does not like cruelty, he's never hurt you and would protect you from anyone that would.

However, he begins to wonder if the people around you will really make you happy like he can....

He hates to admit it but he starts to get envious.

He loves your smiles, yet he wants them directed at him.

He loves your voice, but he wants it singing with him.

Brook tried his best to be supportive.

He's a dead man walking, He should just be happy you two are companions.

You have the right to spend time with whoever you want.

But... Brook feels he's the only one who's the most dedicated to you at times.

Brook tries to play fair, he really does.

He fights fair, no big dirty tactics.

Brook would kill for you, but only if he was going to lose you.

He treasures life, especially yours.

If he were to lose you, he knows he'd never get you back.

So, for that... you can excuse him for getting some blood on his sword, right?

He'd slash through enemies effortlessly if he saw you in danger.

Although, he’ll never harm a crewmate... Even if he's worried you'll leave him for them.

Brook actually tries to keep your attention on him.

He does some manipulation, often offering you to join him for various activities.

He can be clingy, too, often asking his obsession for affection,

He can only really hug, though... he laments the fact he can't kiss you.

If you caught onto his behavior, Brook would beg you to forgive him.

He just cares a lot, y'know?

Please don't leave him... he loves you.

You along with the rest of the Straw Hats allowed him a second chance.

He can't let you go now, he refuses to.

In terms of if he'd kidnap you... I'd have to say no?

He's a big one for being a gentleman.

Kidnapping you would go against his moral code.

However... Isolating you?

Well, if it means keeping you to himself, sure....

Brook knows this is dirty.

He shouldn't isolate you, he knows how much that affects the mind...

But... well... you'll have him....

You only need him, right?

Brook apologizes for his actions, yet he can't let you, his most treasured companion, leave him for another....

Hopefully you'll forgive him when he doesn't allow you near a certain person... or even cuts them down.

He won't allow anyone to harm you or disrespect you...

All he asks is for you to smile for him and stay beside him... completely his... with no one else to share you.

#yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #yandere brook #yandere soul king brook

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moralesmilesanhour · 2 years ago

Text

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4

Summary:

wc: 1k+

A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)

prev. next

Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)

The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.

"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.

"No problem, Ms. Keene!"

By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.

The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.

"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.

You tilted your head in surprise.

"Hey, you in trouble or something?"

Miles shook his head.

"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."

"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.

"Kinda."

She clasped her manicured hands together.

"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.

"And put on those glasses!"

Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.

"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.

"Don't need 'em."

"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."

He scoffed.

"Easy, it's…"

The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.

"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"

"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”

Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”

“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.”

“Just this once!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please?”

The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.

“Happy?”

Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.

“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”

“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”

He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.

“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.

“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”

Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.

“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”

“My fault, bro, damn.”

Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.

The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.

“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.

“Sure.”

You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.

“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation.

Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.

“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”

You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”

“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.

“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”

You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.

“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands.

“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. “Same time as usual.”

“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.

“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”

“Not on my bed, I hope.”

The boy gave you a warning glance.

“Relax, you see me sitting?”

You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.

“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”

“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.

Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.

“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”

“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.

“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”

He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”

It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.

“Can you play some music?”

Miles spun around in his swivel chair.

“What kind?”

“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”

“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”

He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.

Old jazz music began to float through the air.

“You like Ella?”

“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”

“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”

Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.

“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”

This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.

“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”

“I like how you talk.”

You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.

“‘How I talk?’”

“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”

Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.

“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.

There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now��?”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”

“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”

He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.

“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.

“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”

“They let you listen to music down there?”

“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”

“You still sit by yourself?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”

“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.

You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”

“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”

“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”

“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”

“That was a moment?”

“Nope, forget everything I just said.”

Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!

Taglist:

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#earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

646 notes · View notes

darkdemeter · 6 months ago

Note

Tis I again! With more requests for darksiders!

Can you write the four horsemen with a human s/o that Is just really supportive and really Open with their love towards them

(Like they always make them tea when they come by their home, or when they go out into the realms together their s/o makes sure they have somewhere confortable to lay down on if they need rest or something to cover them if they get cold.

They also try to cheer them up with compliments and silly jokes [war May not understand any of them but hey A+ for the effort] and are also very cuddly and have those casual touches of like,holding their hand or patting their back, or playing with their hair and maybe say "hey,remember I love you okay?" A little too often as a way of reassurance and are always up to listen to them and their problems if they need It.

They'll of course stop if theyre told to do so,cuz respecting boundaries and all)

These four need some actual love,they deserve so much better!

As always take ur time and thanks in advance!

Have a great day! (And sorry for the huge wall of text)

A HEART SO UNCONDITIONAL

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death/Strife/War/Fury x GN Reader

NOTES: ↳ I thought I'd take a different approach in giving each of the riders their own little short story while mixing around the elements you listed. (That's why it's taken so long.) Thank you @screechinginthevoid for this one and for being so so patient! They do, our Horsemen deserve the world! 😭 WARNINGS! ↳ A lot of angsty hurt/comfort with fluff — depictions of established relationships

✎7.2k

────────────────

DEATH

Who said that loving the reaper himself would be a walk in the park? It’s not, but the hardships don’t worry you. So trusting in him and understanding, yet you always have this overwhelming aura about you that Death remains unsure about.

How can a human possibly have so much love and compassion for him? The very being that will take your life from this world when your time is done.

But you don’t allow that to phase you – to never stop you from reminding him each and every waking moment you share together, how much you love him and that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. You cherish him to the point he fears it blinds your mortal eyes.

Humans, he’s found, are so fundamentally flawed by the very thing that makes them integral to the balance: their love. A power so absolute, yet corruptible and easy to turn, and though you show no sign of that tainted mark he very much believes it has been poisoned by his presence.

You hand him his mug, the dark stew of tea ringing around in tidal circles until it calms under his steadiness and the tea’s stilling reveals his reflection.

A reflection he never took part in recoiling at before, now almost flinching at the dreaded sight before him that was him. Looking up to watch you at the sink, absently humming a song’s tune to yourself as you set to working away at the dishes, he wonders if this settlement is right for you. He’s grown far too attached now. He has to stop it… but he can’t. He doesn’t want to.

Death wonders if the seven sins have infected him with these selfish desires that keep him from severing the cord that’s already pulled you both together. Before, he could have done it without any ties of remorse to haunt him afterwards. Your love is overwhelming. How you express it, how you say it, how you care for him.

He can’t fathom it. Finishing up your chore at the sink, you dry your hands and toss the hand towel onto the counter and wander over, a gentle grin on your lips as you reach a hand to lay on his tense arm.

Death flinches away at the action, alerted by the sudden press of warmth that your skin brings to his colder temperature. He wishes he could succumb to that feeling, bask in its entirety but something holds him back.

Your hand lifts slightly, your smile turned and your brows furrowed to express your sincere, silent apology for alarming him. Throughout this relationship, you have always seen how Death keeps himself well beyond the comfort you try to give him, leaving him to reserve his emotions and affection.

You remain patient that he may eventually open up. Even if it takes you to the very end of your life, so be it.

“Hey,” you greet softly, trying again as you rest your hand back on his arm. “I was thinking maybe we could venture out to the Maker’s Realm? I thought it’d be nice to have a picnic.”

He hasn’t visited that realm for quite some time and he recognises the way you’ve been feeling stuffy inside your humble abode. Itching to be let out of your cage like a little bird. His little bird that sings happily for his ears to hear, trapped inside a cage you don’t see as imprisoning and he’s far too selfish to let you be free.

Maybe this picnic would help him ease out of this habit of keeping you to himself, that finally he can set his little bird free.

The air is fresh with the aging scent of pine leaves and the sun bathes your skin with a comfortable warmth. Through Death’s actions, he hoisted you off of Despair’s back, his grip strong and firm with you before he set you down. Just like always, you scuttle off in that human nature, the basket held tight in your hands as you settle down on the hillside.

Death takes a moment to himself to simply admire it all – perhaps for the last time. His hand runs over Despair’s neck with an uncomfortable sense of dread he has not felt in a long time, the pain that follows the loss of something he holds dear creeping over him that in turn unsettles his loyal undead steed.

“You coming?” you ask, voice innocently inquiring in his absence, laying out a large canvas of a day blanket atop the pasture of grass. While you stare at Death, he feels his resolve waver.

He can’t do it. How the sun sets a glow to halo around you, hair gently tousled in the wind makes you appear like a dream.

He can’t remember the last time he had dreamt, when he had a moment of true peace that granted him an escape from his troubles.

He wants to stay in this place with you always but he knows he cannot. There comes a time where he must wake up. There is a time he will have to let go and say his final goodbyes. Death stalks over to where you’ve set up, intending to sit beside the laid out blanket only to catch your gaze.

You’ve the look as if he’s committed the most heinous of crimes before a large grin crosses your features. “Come on over, I've saved room just for you.”

Indeed you had, the blanket large enough for two, even still he harbours his hesitance. In an instant, you give him that same, sympathetic smile you had in the kitchen. “Only if you want to, whatever makes you comfortable.”

He moves cautiously and inches himself until his weight hovers at the chequered edge. You lean against his side and rest your head against his shoulder, still smiling up at him.

“What a beautiful day. Thanks for taking us out here, I really appreciate it.”

He only huffs in response, shoulders knocking your head off balance from shoving down slightly, but you only giggle. “I do! I really, really appreciate it. We get to spend the day together in the sun and enjoy a nice picnic. And you know what’s even better?”

“What?” He asks, voice low in his gruff timbre. Your smile is radiant. Infectious to the point that it makes something inside his chest swell and pulsate. Dangerously so that he doesn’t know what to make of it, denying the possibility that it may very well be… love.

You raise a finger to trace down the bridge of his masked nose, so lovestruck and in awe of the way his amber eyes flicker like nervous flames, silently watching and waiting. You answer softly, “That I’m with you.”

For a second you think you catch a rare and radiant glimpse of something in his eyes but he quickly diverts his attention ahead to watch the scenery. You know that he’s troubled but in true fashion, he doesn’t unload you with any of it. He’s hardened his shell to keep his secrets from you.

You reach a hand between you and find the cool define of his long, spindly hand, your fingers entwine with his own and give a reassuring squeeze.

“Death?” You ask, eyes shifting to look at him out of the corner of your vision. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s listening.

“I understand that you keep things to yourself but I want to help. I would like to be someone you can talk to.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs. It shatters you, yet you are aware that it is the truth.

“Have I done something wrong?”

He turns his head to face you, eyes glaring downward and you feel your breath hitch, lungs caught in the flames of his eyes.

“I— I’m sorry, whatever I’ve done I am sorry, I just… I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong…” his head bows and his shoulders deflate with a heavy sigh. “Not intentionally.”

“Then what is it?” You move to sit on your knees, facing him.

“Little bird, I fear that you don’t understand what it means to love me.”

His words are a wound stabbed deeply into your heart. Still he continues, scoffing with a shrug, “It all seems tedious to shower me with your affections, only to meet your end with me. Why bother?”

“You don’t get it…” you sigh, bottom lip trembling slightly as tears cover your eyes with a shiny gloss. “Humans are so difficult when it comes to love, yes. But sometimes, we don’t get a choice in who we fall in love with. We just do.”

You’re overcome by the sudden high of your emotions. Before you know it, your arms pull around his shoulders and drag yourself in until you sit in his lap, his hands frozen to hover over your waist. You don’t care if he doesn’t reciprocate your actions, you just want him to know how much you care for him.

“You mean so much to me, Death. Without you, I would have given up trying to survive. Without you, Humanity would have ceased to be. You are the most noblest soul I have ever come to know.”

You recall that time. What you thought would be his final goodbye. He left you in the care of the Makers until it was deemed safe to return to Earth. It wasn’t as much of an emotional farewell on his part, but you had caved right there, as he turned his back on you to walk away — to enter the well of souls and never likely to return.

You cried, screamed and shouted, you begged him to hear your confession. That had been the night when you realised… “I made my peace the moment I knew I had fallen in love with you.”

Your hold around him increases as sobs rack through you. Tears wet on your lashes, you sniffle. “I’m sorry if I’m always clingy, I promise I’ll try and not be, I just—I just can’t bear the— thought of losing you again!”

His arms move slowly to circle around your waist, his presence a haunting comfort as he holds you to him. He can’t bear the thought of telling you to stop. He can’t let you go. His little bird in the cage wouldn’t last, not with wings too damaged to fly on your own again.

To be called the noblest of souls holds a light to the high regard you hold him to. He only did what was necessary for balance, for his brother. But that night, leaving you behind knowing it was for the last time, he was shaken to his core because he found that saying goodbye was so very hard when he realised he had fallen in love with you.

And so he holds you as you cry against him, perhaps not for the last time after all.

STRIFE

With a heart of unbridled magnitude, you love hard and fiercely. It shows in the way you always throw yourself on the towering nephilim whenever he steps a foot on your front porch, face lit up in your excitement to see him shadow your doorway.

“Whoa there!” He laughs, hands taking hold of you yet resisting to use all his strength unless he crushes you like a toothpick, anxiously aware that the daggered irons of his gauntlets can so easily shred and puncture you if he isn’t careful.

You invite him inside with a tug of his hand in yours. “Come on, come on!” You’re always so cheerful and buzzing with energy. He’s stumbling paces behind you as he’s dragged further inside where you begin to make his usual tea in his favourite mug.

“I’ve missed you so much, it’s been so boring around here without you,” you begin to rave and rant on, hearing the creaking of one of the stools support his weight.

You ask with a cheeky smirk, “So what have you been up to lately, handsome fella?”

He replies with a casual roll of his shoulder, “You know me, firefly. Just doing my thing as a Horseman.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” You turn, hotly made tea nestled in your hands that you set in front of him. With a thankful nod he takes it.

“You have no idea.”

With him sitting on the opposite side of the counter, your body hunches forward, pressed to lean your weight on the surface with your palms supporting your chin as you stare with what Strife can assume to be heart eyes.

“What?” he asks, golden eyes blinking rapidly. “Did I ever tell you that I love you?”

Your voice is sickly sweet, sung in a playful note while you tilt your head side to side, lost and aloof in some daydream.

“Every time you see me,” he chuckles and you perk up, grinning like the cat who ate the cream.

“Well, I love you, Strife!” You’re suddenly at his side within a flash, arms thrown around him until you’re stuck to him like sap on a branch. You hum, happy and content to have him back, head nestling against his neck. He smells strong of gunpowder and a musk of burning wood that reminds you of the winter snuggled close by the fireplace.

“I missed you so, so much…” You sigh quietly this time.

Strife had entered your life with a flash and a bang. Literally. He fell from the sky as a massive ball of flame that scorched and melted the world around him. Just when you needed a saviour’s hand, he had arrived. From that day forth, you were constantly stuck to his side, even the few times he tried to brush you off to someone far more capable than him to care for you, you insisted that you remain with him. He made you feel safe in a world that no longer did.

Him? He had almost laughed. He made you feel safe? Even when Ulthane promised that no harm would befall you under his charge, you were still determined to ride with a Horseman.

Was that the point he realised he loved you? Well, you sure left that much an impression on him that he fancied something about you. For the handful of humans that managed to survive you were the only one willing to come near him, no less be with him. It only felt natural in some way when your relationship evolved into something more after a single kiss — but just as instinctual as it may have been, Strife found himself drawn into something forbidden — not intended for him. But you assured him that he was the only one you wanted, that you loved him. The complicated nature of humanity at play before his very eyes. A mortal so hopelessly in love with him of all lovers to choose from.

He strips himself of his mask, letting it sit on the counter as he enjoys his tea while you huddle yourself against him like a kitten snuggling into his lap. Strife’s siblings often remark how attached you were to him. Whenever he would spend the night, the following morning he would have to say his goodbyes until your next meeting.

It hurts him every time he has to see that sorrow flash within your eyes, before you dismiss it and assure him that you will be alright and that you will be waiting for him just like always.

There are days where you will pace the floorplan of your home just waiting for him, to hear the familiar clobbering of hooves raging against the pavement and a snorted whiney from Mayham, who you may have a bad habit of coddling and feeding one too many carrots to from your kitchen window when Strife isn’t paying attention. Hey, he enjoys them and who are you to deny the rider of unrest itself, and it keeps Mayhem from riding your recently planted greenhouse.

“Alright there, sweets?” Strife chuckles, his voice having grown lower with a tired drawl. You hum, happy to bask and bathe in the intoxicating warmth radiating off him that seeps deep into your bones.

“Hard not to be when I’m with you,” you coo softly, eyes droopy and you fight hard to hide a yawn.

“How long have you been waiting up for me?” His question takes a sudden shift as he turns you in his lap, your body small enough that maneuvering you was as easy for him as it is for you to move a feather.

“Not… not that long, just a couple… couple ‘fhours…” Again you strain to keep yourself from yawning. But Strife sets aside his unfinished tea, already scooping you to rest you on your back in his arms and carries you towards your bedroom. You whine, hands tugging at the fabric of his scarf.

“But Strife,” — a large yawn finally stretches your mouth open — “I don’t wanna sleep, I want to cuddle you and tell you how you’re the darndest handsome fella I could ever call my own—”

He shushes you then, hands careful to lay you down on your mattress and pull the covers over you despite the weakened struggle you put up. “How can you be so handsome, honestly? And funny, and strong and just everything I could ever want in a partner?”

The fog of sleep is close to taking you under, however, the last of your energy that wanes like a candle wick almost burnt out comes as an attempt to sit on your knees. Yourhands splay over the large front of his chest, his golden eyes bouncing in their softened gaze as he silently pleads with you to rest. Still, you remain adamant even as the heavy lead drags your lashes down together.

“You know… I just want you to know that I love you, okay? I’m always here for you, ‘m not going anywhere that isn’t with you.”

The darkened lines of his brown brows flex up, furrowed in his contemplation over your words. It’s almost like his spiked hair became tenfold bristled under the weight of such a reminding confession. Often, you tell him these things and he still has a hard time accepting that they mean anything true. You’re a human, even love is so cruel in blinding you.

He figures that you will eventually grow out of it. Someday, you will find another man who will take care of you. He dreads the day that you will no longer be his baby, his precious love; the bright star alight in the cosmos that guides him home every time.

A chapped kiss lands on your forehead, almost ghosting over the contour of your skin and he leans in close with a whispered, “Sleep.”

Nestled under the covers and head draped onto your pillow you let yourself drift off into a much needed slumber. Strife sighs from his place beside you, crouched and yet still very much hovering over your sleeping form. His hand runs over his face, deeply engrossed in the endless branches of unfinished thoughts and dwelling fears.

Is it all true, what you say to him? You have this way of overwhelming him and giving him exactly what he wants deep down. You say the prettiest of things to him, whenever you kiss him he believes he’s found his heaven eternal with you in his arms. How you refuse to go about your daily life until you have expressed exactly ten times how much you love him, that when you wake up in the morning happy it's because he’s the first one that crosses your mind and because you had the sweetest of dreams about him.

You look so at peace when you sleep. Rarely can he enjoy it, haunted by sin and haboured regrets, a place where his greatest of fears can become a manifested prophecy that warns him of what will become of him. Of you both.

So he goes without. Besides, unlike humans who require it in their health, that’s not so much the case for him. Still, your dreams must be so sweet. So innocent of him. Unknowing of the real him, the identity he can never allow you to love.

You awaken first to the feeling of something enclosing your waist with a vice-like grip, squeezing you in and in until you're struggling for air. Secondly, the sound of choked cries and intensely curt breaths that come and go far too quickly. Your eyes are wide, rubbing away the drowsiness in them as you immediately tend to Strife, armor stripped into clunky masses on the floor around the bed like a protective shield.

His large shoulders heave, the warping trail of heat rising from his body as he drowns in his sleep, his arms hold around you tighter.

“Strife, baby— it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here,” you croak, voice already trembling with tears brimming in your vision.

He hisses out your name with such vigor that it makes something in your heart rip asunder. He sounds so angry. So guilty.

You call to him in his dreams. His eyes open, the powerful glow of tear filled gold bright and blinding you with dark spots. His breath shifts so sharply that his body physically vibrates against you, his chin tucked and pushed into your sternum, he glances up at you and his arms weaken their grip on you.

Your hands caress the scarred texture of his skin, fingers tracing each one with delicate intent when you feel him flinch and shudder under your touch that finds its way to comb one hand through his hair.

He tries so hard to keep the tremble of his sobs silent yet you’re aware that his resolve has crumbled, that front he often puts up cracks under the pressure and you’re there ready to catch him.

“I know it’s tiring to hear me say it, but remember that I love you. I’m here for you.”

His arms then curl around you, holding you so that you have no choice but to remain there with him. He doesn’t want to go back to the past, he’s unsure what awaits him in the future. All he wants is to be here in the moment with you.

With a low voice, he utters, “Too many times… but please remind me again.”

WAR

Most honourable souls are not without their contrasting attributes. The red rider is known for his stoic personality and for being an unrivaled engine of chaos and pain, you are one of the very few who see him under the battle-worn hide.

He’s endured much, been the discarded tool to a plot set to unravel the whole cosmos asunder and and let him take the fall for it. He’s been beaten down only to get back up when he saw you hidden away, eyes wide in your terror for the fate that awaited you should he fall.

Never once did he fail you.

All this time, he’s been nothing short of a protector, an honourable warrior who seeks only the fairest of retribution and the security of all that depend on him to make things right and at peace. You don’t see him as the monster others make him out to be. In your eyes, he is someone very special to you.

“So where exactly are we off to, hero?” you chuckle, feet kicking up slightly with Ruin’s incredible yet lackluster stride, hooves clobbering so hard it digs puddle sized gauges into the dirt.

War sighs, his chest easily pushing you forward in the saddle easily to it’s both embarrassing and flustering. Your cheeks brighten with a blushing pink. “We are scouting ahead. The ruins should not be too far ahead now.”

“You said that eons ago!” you huff. Eyes rolling drastically they almost fall out of their sockets.

“It’s not been that long.”

You pucker your tongue between your lips, popping an obnoxious raspberry. The ride wasn’t at all bad, just a tad boring and your thighs were beginning to ache just a little from being sat in the saddle for a while. War’s hand had a controlled grip on the bulky chains acting as the reins, leaving your hands to either grip the horn or fumble in resting them atop of War’s larger one. The latter of which you’d feel his chest lock up with a sudan hitch buried in his throat and a smile stretching far and wide across your face.

Your effect on the Horsemen was really that obvious, wasn’t it? Anyone can see it.

Because of your arising boredom and your need to entertain yourself, you begin to mimic the action of looking out for the ruins War spoke of, hands curving into little circles to cup over your eyes. “What are you doing?” you hear his voice ask from above and your turn your gaze upwards, hands still formed into makeshift binoculars. War will only ever admit to himself, he almost chuckled. “I’m keeping an eye out for our destination.”

“You are being playful,” he remarks, seeing you bounce your head in agreement as your hands fall to hold the scratched metal of his gauntlet.

“You caught me. I’m just bored, ugh!” Pouting you add timidly, “And my butt hurts.”

You jerk forward to catch yourself against the horn with a gasp, Ruin’s weight shifting to a complete stop. Turning your chin, you catch a glance at War who’s looking elsewhere other than forward, his head moving slowly this way and that as you follow his gaze. He’s scanning the nearby cliffside to your side. One wrong slip of your footing and you’d be rolling down a steep incline of rocky foliage and winding branches before you even make it to the rushing stream far below.

But the scenery is nice. A sunset smearing softly integrated pinks and darkish purples, reveling in the warming tan of orange nearest the silhouette horizon.

You breath out, eyes transfixed, your stun an evident and final confirmation to War that taking a small break wouldn’t be so terrible. Who knows just how long his siblings would before meeting him at the ruins.

With a firm nudge of his boot, War commands his steed to steer himself towards the sloping hillside, the horse chuffing loudly a cluster of embers that spark and frazzle with a crackling pop like flaming stars.

The saddle is cradled to one side with War’s dismount, almost turning you over and out of the saddle completely before he aids you in getting you off Ruin’s back.

Your back pops delightfully from stretching and you sigh in relief. The chance to stand and pace around allows the blood flow to seep back into your legs, standing at the cliff edge, you stare out at the picturesque scene with a deep inhale of the breeze. “It’s so pretty,” you say with a toothy grin that crinkles the corner of your eyes.

As you stare in admiration, War lets himself stand beside you, a regular force of habit that something may dare try to leap out and attack you, it’s ingrained into him as muscle memory to put himself between you and an enemy.

But you haven’t encountered any enemies. Noo once since you arrived in this realm, its atmosphere almost entirely made of a peaceful ambience. For once, War can somewhat relax.

“I kind of miss Earth being this way.” It’s hard sometimes to think of home, it’s once way of life slowly thriving, but it will still take some time to become an inhabitable biome. Until then, you mostly travel with War. On the off chance that you must stay behind, you stay with the Makers or the pocket haven with other humans until he returns to collect you.

Meanwhile, War silently contemplates a darker memory. Back when the nephilim invaded countless realms much like this, carving out its natural beauty to leave behind a shattered husk. His hands clench into tight fists, weight crunching the dirt under his feet with a low rumble. He thinks about the terrible rage he becomes whenever he loses control of himself, slipping into this facade that feels all too real, fearing that it may very well be the real him; that his code of honour is the facade.

By the time he snaps out of his thoughtful stupor, he sees you playing in the dirt.

Stick in hand, your drawing something, focus entirely on your illustration and War cannot help but half-heartedly ask, “What is that?”

“Us!” you beam, “there’s you, there’s me and this is Ruin.”

The war steed bellows a proud whiney at the mention of his name, massive head shaking the heated curtain of his mane. His front hoof paws the ground in triumph. War kneels down, body closing in that his shadow very well hovers over you while he studies what you’ve drawn.

“And… what are you doing there?”

To answer his question, you lean into him and plant your lips to his cheek with a quick peck, chuckling at the Horsemen’s expression that is too stun to compute. His frozen eyes are wide and it takes a good long while before he even blinks. He turns his head with a frightful and sudden jerk, the fading sunlight letting you see that which the overcast of his hood fails to hide — a pink dusting of a blush in his cheeks.

“What— was that for?”

“Because I love you, silly!”

You settle yourself down on the patch of grass and pat your hand encouragingly for War to do the same beside you. Once he does, albeit the awkward motion of adjusting himself to do so, you lean all your weight against him that he supports with no issue. To him, you weigh nothing more than a feather pillow.

Your head presses to the hardened bulk of his shoulder. You sigh in contentment.

“This is really nice, being out here with you.” Your hand falls over his, the comfort of it letting all your fears and worries wash away. Whenever you try to hold hands with War, you are the one to initiate it, feeling the hesitant way his hand tense before it releases and coaxes itself to grab yours in turn. However, you decide against trying to force it.

He asks, “You truly mean that?”

You nod in reply, cheek rubbing against his arm. “I do.”

Then you feel it. His hand turns so that his palm flatley faces up and his large fingers curl around your hand, capturing it in his grip. “You know, if I had my sketchbook right now, I’d paint you like one of my french girls.”

Your voice had dropped into an exaggerated accent, your other hand pursing your fingers together.

Of course, another playful jest goes right over his head by the puzzling quirk of his snowy bow. That’s joke number 1,551 and counting. Many of your journeys consist of you trying to get one joke to land with the behemoth in red, but none have seemed to catch. Your face puckers inward like you sucked on a lemon and tried not to react.

By now the sky has grown darker, stars dotting the sky’s nightly canvas and the moon rising just as the sun’s last rays kissed the mountain terrain.

“Hey, War, knock knock…”

His lips form into a sneer, tsking in a slight of annoyance. Not this again…

He sees you’re not going to back out of this one, far too stubborn to do so. Giving in for the first time ever to the infamous two lines he’s heard too many times to count, he grumbles, “Who’s there?”

“Me?”

His eyes narrow again. You’re up to something with this, he knows it. “Me… who?”

“It’s just me, and I want to tell you that I’m thankful to have you around. Whenever I wake up, I think of you and how you’re doing, and if that someday… you’ll finally recognise that you are my hero — and not the monster.”

This is the most peculiar of jokes. But wait, you’re not laughing. You’re not waiting for him to acknowledge the play on of the punch line. You’re being genuine. “And that whenever I’m not around you, I get so scared not only for myself but for you. I care about you so much that I stay up in hopes that I’ll see you again before I collapse from exhaustion. Whenever we’re riding together, I feel secure and warm because I know you have the reins and you have me.

When you’re around, you scare away the real monsters. And that is what a hero does, and that’s what makes you my hero. Because you’ve always been there when I needed you.”

War’s eyes fall away and you take his loss of eye contact as failure. Again, he doesn’t see how much you love him, how your heart pounds rapidly when you both stand close to one another and that your heart is his for eternity. That for you, there is nobody else to love. Only him.

His hand that holds yours drags you into lap and his lips ghost over the crown of your head, causing your eyes to widen and your chest to cease its breath. “I’ll always be there for you, my love.”

Tears mist over your vision, wetting your lashes as your arms reach around him as far as they can, engulfing him in a hug. He really is your knight in armour of creepy faces.

FURY

Her determination remains just as strong, even now. She refuses to let you see at her weakest. All you want is to be a rock for her to lean on when things get tough. She cannot accept that, will not let you shoulder the burdens that are hers to carry.

She’s a fearsome sort of stoicism but therein lies her beauty in your eyes. Where she sees nothing but a misshapen and discarded weapon of war, you see the comings of a Phoenix rising from the ashes. A past that seeks to destroy her and yet she still fights on.

She inspires you in ways she can hardly imagine. The days she comes to ride up to your house, elegantly sat in Rampage’s saddle with a sense of control on the reins that chink and chatter with a chainy rattle, you’re already launching yourself ten feet out of the door and making her pull hard to a stop.

She bites your name harshly, face furrowed into a glare. You know her better than that, it shows in the coiled edges of your big and bright smile.

“I missed you!” You cry out, bouncing on your feet like a hyped jackrabbit.

You throw your arms around her without a second thought once she has dismounted. Despite the obvious of her much taller height, you hold nothing back in the way you hug her tightly.

She’ll feign annoyance as her dark lips turn into the faintest of smiles in the shadow of her features, a telltale sign that she appreciates these wonderful moments that she secretly misses.

However, there are times that your illustrious partner of a Horsemen will shut you out, more often than not as of late, she huffs and mutters to herself with an expression screwed into a sneer. She’s troubled by something and its mystery writhes a flare of determination within you to find a solution. A problem solver. That is what makes the bulk of your intimately struggling relationship with Fury. You try to solve all her problems, no matter the weight, big or small.

She walks with a swaying saunter towards you, Rampage pawing at the ground with a ruffled snort, shaking off the remnants of unease his rider held. “How’ve you been, Fury? Would you like some tea? I also thought we could finish reading that book together, or maybe have a late evening dinner in that realm—”

She flicks her wrist dismissively, bluntly saying under her breath, “Whatever is easiest. I don’t have the patience to decide.”

It stops you in your tracks for sure. The impact of her response weighs heavily on your heart and you bite aggressively into your lip to prevent yourself from shedding the springing flush of tears. She’s just mad, you try to reason with yourself. I have to find a way to cheer her up.

You follow her inside, watching how her body slumps forward slightly with a sigh as if she sheds the cumbersome shell of her burdens at the door and proceeds forth with a more sluggish pace. You frown at this. “I’ll make you a tea,” you say from behind and rush off to the kitchen, setting to making her drink before going off to fetch one of your comfort blankets. Whenever you find yourself in a pit of doubt, sadness and impending woe, you toss one of the soft blankets you’ve had for as long as you can remember,snuggling into its warmth as you settle in with a good book to read or a small puzzle to fix your mind on something. It always helps you, so why not try it on Fury?

You see her take a seat on the couch, posture slouched so far forward now it rivals Death. Hands clutch into the blanket, nails gnawing into it thoughtfully, praying that this works, then like a mouse you tip-toe out from your hiding place and throw the blanket over her shoulders, enveloping her in another yet shorter hug.

“Ugh– what are you…” Her eyes shift to turn to you, lips revealing a nasty snarl on her part but she stops suddenly, seeing the flash of something cross your face. She doesn’t mean to project her anger onto you. It’s just that she can’t exactly explain why she keeps coming back to you when she is in this particular mood, feeling like she has nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Still, she pushes you away with every attempt you make to cheer her up.

“A comfort blanket,” you answer with a kind smile. “They always make me feel better.” You round the couch and sit at her feet, hands taking a second guess before they find a tender placement on the armour of her leg.

“Hey, remember I love you and I’m here for you.”

You see the gears turning like clockwork in her head, eyes torn between narrowing and relaxing and the contortion of her mouth leaves you to believe she’s fighting herself on this. She wants to say something but nothing is coming out. She’s trying to find a way to word it without hurting you to the point that it may break you.

She cares for you, more than what she would like to admit to anyone. But it’s true. She has become ensnared by your attention, your love and the way your presence is uplifting to be around. Like a moth drawn to a flame she keeps coming back.

“It’s hard.” It stings her to say it, but she just needs time. She needs to think this through. “I know you love me. But it’s just… it all feels too much for me.”

Your eyebrows move upward, sympathetic as she speaks her mind. It’s not common for her to be so vulnerable with you. So you take it in stride, taking in a deep inhale.

“I’m sorry. I will do better in toning my extreme outpour of affection until you’re ready.”

Sometimes you wonder if you carry on a tad bit more than you should, giddy and over excited to see Fury even if it’s only been days between visits.

If this is how Fury feels then it is your obligation to be supportive and respectful of her wish for space, granted it may prove to be a bit of a challenge but that is what relationships are about. Overcoming the many trials you face in one another and together.

She nods thankfully and you hum, pressing a quick, light kiss to her forehead and then head to the kitchen, soon reappearing with her steaming cup of tea.

By the time you get back you see she’s immersed herself in the comfort blanket, hands tugging it over herself that bit more until her focus lands on you, eyes moving between your genuine smile and the mug cupped in your offering hands. She takes the beverage with a softly muttered, “Thank you, dear.”

The two of you curl up together on the couch, and Fury lets you drown her mind with the last half of that novel you wanted to finish during her last visit, only to find that you had passed out, reading yourself into a slumber that left her tugging heartstrings no choice but to carry you to bed and lay you under the covers, bidding you a farewell.

As you read the contents of the page, mesmerised in the storyline, Fury’s attention is only half engaged with it – the other just taking the time to admire you.

How well you have taken her request when for sure she expected you to cry. She didn’t miss in catching the way a glossiness covered your eyes when she spoke with you, and perhaps she should feel shame for it. She’s pushing you away because she’s utterly terrified. She doesn’t register your voice saying her name, finally snapped out of it she looks to see one of her hands clenching into the couch arm, ripping and rendering its cushioned flesh.

Before she can begin to make any form of apology, you raise a hand to pause her, understanding that her mind had been elsewhere.

It isn’t… easy being a Horsemen. Hell, it’s not easy being a human sometimes, and the factors of this relationship should be difficult and impossible on any and all levels. You don’t let it stop either of you in the end. You do what you must to make it work, you fix her problems just as she fixes yours.

“Why are you so understanding?” she asks and your eyes widen a little, blinking a flutter of your lashes a few beating times. Your shoulders shove up and down with a steadied breath.

“Because I—” you cut yourself off, aware that you’re it again. You clear your throat and tilt your head to the side, meeting her gaze. “Well, because that’s what you do in a relationship. You have made your concerns known and it is up to me to respect that. It’s… what humans do. We care.”

“Will you stop completely?” You know what she means. Somewhere deep inside she adores the shower of affection you show her, but delving outward is the hardened hide of a warrior. A fighter who has known nothing of love like your own. You shake your head, lightly chuckling. “Never. I adore you too much. My love is unconditional when it comes to you.”

A wider smile forms over her face then. It may not take so long as tomorrow to think this through and to be more accepting of your overbearing nature to coddle her with your love. Afterall, it was the way you expressed how you felt for her. A human so special to her, how could she deny your unconditional love?

#headlinesxcomics publishing #happyfic hour #darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders strife #darksiders death #darksiders war #darksiders fury #darksiders x reader #darksiders death x reader #darksiders strife x reader #darksiders war x reader #darksiders fury x reader

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mountain-maiden · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Nothing

Summary: Joel comes home from patrol in need of comfort and reassurance.

WC: 2.7k

TW: 18+ MDNI, Oral (m receiving), men whimpering, religious imagery, Taylor Swift references, author went to catholic school during formative years, author has never enjoyed giving head and didn't know how to write it :/

This is the first fanfic I've ever posted so please be nice to me!!

The snow crunches beneath Joel’s boots, yielding to the solid weight of a man on his way home. Moonlight filters in through the clouds, guiding him to your shared abode as the rest of Jackson sleeps soundly. It had been a extra long patrol, his late return made even more devastating by the knowledge you had most likely made dinner for two and eaten alone.

His hand warms a pebble in his pocket, your pebble really. You had picked it for him during a patrol together last July, claiming the warm brown of the rock matched the honeyed irises of his eyes. He remembers how he scoffed at the notion but here he was months later, clutching the small stone for some semblance of comfort. You had rediscovered it a couple months ago, borrowing his jacket and marveling at the tiny stone that had made it all this way, stowing away in his pocket.

“Does it ever miss the river sometimes?” You had asked, a small smirk playing on your lips as you slipped it back into his coat. He’d been found out, yet he had never really minded your small discoveries.

He could never simply lay back and bare his soul to you, but with each calloused layer you peeled away, Joel found himself eager for you to reach his core. To peer into the depths of his soul and deem him still worthy of your love. He didn’t expect God to forgive the sins he’d committed, had stopped praying for that long ago. But at the altar of your hips, he’d get on his knees and beg for absolution until he dissolved into the dust he knelt on. Joel didn’t believe in much these days, but he believed in you with an intensity that could rival the most devout priests of the days of before.

Finally, he is bathed in the warm light of your home, bleeding through the blinds and blanketing the snow covered path to your front porch, beckoning him inside. Joel opens the door and immediately all the tension he had been carrying begins to dissipate. The warmth of your home melts the frost from his bones as he kicks off his mud coated boots, discards his soaked through socks, and hangs his threadbare coat, eager to see your face.

He find you in the kitchen, humming a tune he remembers from right before the outbreak, something Sarah had made him listen to, probably that Taylor Swift she was always going on about. Your whirl around when you sense his presence, eyes lighting up as you realize it’s Joel standing in your kitchen.

“I like that song,” He smiles, walking forward to embrace you, “Sarah used to listen to it a lot.”

“She had good taste,” You loop your arms around his neck, pulling him in, “Never would have taken Joel Miller for a swiftie.”

He can feel you chuckle at your own joke, but he feels no need to defend himself. Instead he focuses on the feeling of your body as he holds you against him, as tight as he can without fear of hurting you. It’s a ridiculous notion, but Joel finds himself hoping if he presses himself to you just right, he can meld your two beings so he’ll never have to be without again. It’s a selfish thought, you have a life outside of him, which is why he doesn’t voice it, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

Eventually you pull away to inspect his face for any sign of injury, but all you find is Joel doing the same to you. It’s almost comical how the man will be on patrol in the dangers of the wilderness for days and still worry for your health while you lounge in the safety of Jackson’s walls.

“I missed you,” Joel whispers, and he means it with the entirety of his being. The words incapable of expressing how devastatingly incomplete he felt without the melody of your laughter accompanying his meals, the bite of your scolding when he was reckless, the warmth of your body pressed against him at night.`

“I missed you too,” you smile, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair, smoothing out the greying strands that had become tousled by the wind during his journey home.

“I saved you food,” you gesture to a closed tupperware sitting on the counter, “Do you want to shower while I reheat it for you?”

“I- Um, would ya mind joinin’ me?” Joel asks, suddenly feeling shy as if he’d just asked for your hand in marriage instead of company in the shower.

“Not at all,” you take his hand and walk to the bathroom, unable to hold back a small grin at the knowledge Joel craved your closeness just as much as you craved his.

You enter the small room and sit Joel on the closed toilet while you fuss over the water temperature. When you deem the water an acceptable heat, your attention returns to Joel’s seated form. You reach for the bottom of Joel’s shirt and he begins to protest.

“I don’t need yer help takin’ my goddamn shirt off,” He huffs, no real heat to his words as he lifts his arms to aid your efforts.

“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean you don’t want it,” you tease, “it’s okay Joel, we both know you’re a big softie in disguise.”

He grumbles some form of an argument but makes no real effort to convince you. Instead he quickly becomes distracted as you kneel to unbutton his jeans, belt already discarded on the floor beside you. You pull his jeans to the floor and look up to meet his heated gaze, a small smirk playing on your lips. He holds back a groan as you peel off his boxers, removing the last barrier between him and your mouth, and watches in dismay as you stand up.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later Miller, now get in the shower,” you instruct before beginning to remove your own layers.

Joel shakes his head and laughs as he steps into the warm stream of the shower. He lets his head hang as he feels the water cascade down his back, removing the days of sweat and grime from his skin. You pull back the curtain and step in to join him, immediately reaching out to loop your arms around his neck.

“Hey Darlin’” Joel gives you a lopsided smile, letting you know he was finally starting to relax.

“Hi baby,” you giggle, “Come here often?”

You watch in delight as he chuckles and pretends to pull away, “Didn’t realize I invited a dork into my shower,” Joel snorts.

“Oh please, you knew full well you were inviting a dork into your shower,” you laugh, reaching up to tip his head back and let the water run through his hair.

“And, I actually prefer the term comedian,” you continue, stepping behind him to reach the shampoo and conditioner.

“Comedian my ass,” you hear Joel mutter as you pour the shampoo into your hands.

The steam from the shower envelopes the both of you as Joel stands beneath the warm water. Your fingers tracing slow circles against his scalp, melting away his tension. It wasn't just the physical weariness from the patrol; it was the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders, the burden of surviving in a harsh post-apocalyptic reality. And, as your fingers worked through his hair, you could sense the tough facade he tried to hard to maintain slipping away.

"Joel," you whisper, your voice a soft caress, "you don't have to do it all alone. You have me."

He sighs in a mixture of relief and vulnerability, his guard down in the sanctuary of your embrace.

"You've been taking on Tommy's patrols, fixing everyone’s houses, looking after Ellie," you continue, tilting his head back to rinse the soap from him hair, "but you can't save everyone."

His response is a low murmur, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily silenced by the soothing rhythm of your touch.

"I can't just watch. People rely on me," Joel croaks, his voice raw with the admission of his own limitations. How could he explain his selfish motives, how it wasn’t about helping them, but saving his soul? How could he explain the weight of his past, how little time he had to redeem himself, how little time he had to become someone worthy of your love?

"And who do you rely on?" You ask, hands reaching around to his front, tracing patterns on his abdomen. "You don't need repent for surviving, Joel."

Finally, he turns to face you and you press a soft kiss to his mouth, relishing in the restrained groan he lets out. You pull away to find his eyes glazed over in lust, gaze fixed on your lips. Apparently you take too long to reconnect the kiss, because suddenly Joel is surging forward, capturing your mouth in a desperate kiss.

He kisses you like a man starved, teeth colliding, tongue demanding entrance to your mouth, pressing your back to the cool tile of the shower wall. Fitting his thigh between your legs, you can feel his length hardening against your hip while you grind on his thigh, letting out a soft moan at the feeling.

“‘Atta girl, so good for me.” He murmers, words spurring you on as you let out small whimpers of frustration, the angle just off, or the pressure not quite right. Joel shifts to get to his knees desperate to taste you, but halts when you grab his arm, tugging him back up.

“Just, let me,” you sink to your knees, Joel’s broad shoulders shielding you from the spray. You press light kisses to his hips and he can’t stifle the soft whimpers that escape while you continue to tease him, lips brushing everywhere except the place he needs you most.

“Fuck baby, Ple-” He chokes on his words when you suddenly take as much of him as you can into your mouth at once. His eyes rolling back as he fights to keep his hips from thrusting forward.

His fingers find purchase in your hair, not to guide you but to ground himself as you send him to what he imagines is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. A sinner such as himself is never going to see those pearly gates, but in the tight heat of your mouth he can’t find it in himself to regret any of the sins that paved his path to you, his own personal salvation.

You continue to take more of him with each pass, using your hands to make up for the length you can’t fit, encouraged by Joel’s mixture of soft gasps and choked moans.

“Fuck baby, I’m not gonna last long” He warns.

Joel's words only motivate you further, bracing yourself with his thighs, relaxing your throat and taking him deeper into your mouth. He can feel himself hurtling towards the edge with each passing movement, his hips bucking involuntarily against your ministrations.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart, so perfect for me,” endless praise spills from his mouth as he feels his climax approach, knowing he can’t last much longer.

“Gonna swallow for me, pretty girl?” He knows you can’t answer, he also knows the answer is already yes.

He feels the familiar pooling of warmth in his gut and all the warning you get is a drawn out groan before he’s spilling into your mouth. Joel towers over you panting, bracing himself against the tile of the shower wall as he recovers from the waves of pleasure still crashing over him.

“So fucking good to me,” Joel murmers, reaching down to help you off the slippery floor of the shower.

“Not doing anything you don’t deserve,” you give him a quick peck before turning the water off, having used beyond an indulgent amount.

You make to step out of the tub but Joel pulls you back in for a searing kiss, battling his irrational fear that the second you leave the shower, he’ll discover you were just a figment of his imagination. An angel bestowing a temporary blessing on a man built more of sin than flesh.

When he pulls away, you leave to fetch a pair of towels and return to dry him off. Joel is ashamed of how underneath your attentive care he allows himself to feel loved, how your patient hands wipe away not just the droplets of water but also the misdeeds of his past, leaving behind a glowing trail of love. He knows he doesn’t deserve any of this, but he’s taken plenty of things that didn’t belong to him in the time before you met, and he figures your affections for the man you believe him to be, a good man, can be his one last stolen good, his perfect crime.

“I love you,” you run your fingers along the broad expanse of his shoulders, before cupping his face, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“I love you too,” Joel whispers, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your shared room, forgoing clothes and crawling into bed.

“Can I return the favor?” Joel asks, beginning to position himself further down the bed before you grab his arm and pull him back up.

“We’re both tired Joel, you’ve been awake for days, lets just sleep. Yeah?”

“You’re too good for me baby,” Joel brushes a stray hair from your face, “I’m hopin�� you won’t figure that out for a long time though.”

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes at the man above you, “one day I’m going to get it through your thick skull that you are a good man, Joel Miller.”

“My skull ain’t that thick, you wound me Darlin’” Joel clutches his heart dramatically before draping himself over you, resting his head on the soft cushion of your chest.

“Aw baby, it’s not a bad thing, a skull that thick has made you real hard to kill,” you chuckle, softly tapping at his head in jest. He lazily swats at your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling himself closer to you.

Minutes pass in silence, you assume he’s fallen asleep and are about to reach for your book, when you hear the soft rasp of Joel’s half asleep voice.

“Sometime’s I think the end might be comin’,” He murmurs, burrowing his face in the valley of your breasts, determined to mold his body to yours, “Everyone’s up to somethin’.”

You frown at his sleep-muddled words, clearly not meant to be voiced, and stroke his hair, “Yeah, there’s been a lot of push and shoving.”

You wait for a response and when a few moments pass in silence, you grab your book and begin to read, hoping the rustling of pages isn’t enough to wake Joel. You get lost in the story and hours pass before you are closing the book and turning off the lamp, preparing to sleep. You have to resettle into the pillows and the movement causes a disruption in Joel’s slumber, a quiet groan leaving him as he attempts to get closer again.

“I might be too soft for all of it,” He murmurs, pulling you into him so he can hear your heartbeat as he drifts off. In his sleep addled state, Joel had confessed his greatest sin. The softness you cultivated within him, intertwined with the fear that perhaps he was already too late for redemption. He could carry the weight of regret every day, but it was growing hard to ignore the feeling of futility when faced with trying to mend a lifetime of mistakes in the few years he has left. Why endure the struggle for redemption when he could find heaven in the warmth of your embrace? A sinner too complacent to repent.

In the delicate balance of vulnerability and resignation, he clings to you, his sanctuary in the face of an irredeemable past. In your arms, Joel finds reprieve from the crushing guilt, thoughts consumed by the comforting rhythm of your heartbeat. God might demand repentance for entrance to heaven, but all you’d ever asked of him was sweet nothing.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you

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zerokurokawa · 8 months ago

Note

I absolutely love your writing so I'm back for more!

I really like the whole song prompt idea since I usually listen to music while scrolling through here so I wanna keep that going.

This one is gonna be based on I'd Rather Go Blind by Etta James (or by Beyoncé up to you)

Im think cheater!bonten!Ran x singer!reader, where reader has known for a long time about ran's cheating but decides to not leave him. Reader would eventually have to perform the song (the one above) infront of bonten. I feel like when Ran finally realizes the song is about him he would try his hardest to push through the rest of the performance, he's ofc infront of Mikey and the others so he would try to stay and act nonchalant but wouldn't be able to due to all the staring coming from Mikey. (I also feel like the entirety of bonten would see reader as a sweetheart who's just trying to make it through) I feel like they wouldn't be fazed by his cheating but more so surprised about him cheating on reader of all things yk?

Omg that's a lot but I truly believe you can bring it too life!

(also please feel better soon!!!)

I'd Rather Go Blind | Bonten!Ran x Reader (Cheating) </3

You were talented, exquisite, poise, and perfect all around. How could this have happened to you? Finding out through the great vine of people and connections you had that Ran, your long time boyfriend, had been fooling around on you was not supposed to be apart of your life's story. Being a club owner had its perks, you supposed as you thought about the copious amount of women he came across while partying and running the damn thing.

You often performed at this very club. You sang like an angel sent down straight from heaven and Ran often paid you extra on the nights that you took over to perform. People from all over the city would come and see you and they knew you by name, asking if you were the that was going to be putting on a show tonight. You were practically famous in Roppongi.

Yet here you were, begging yourself to get it together after reading the messages that were sent to you anonymously through text about Ran messing around. You had a show to put on tonight, everybody was going to be there as well. As you gathered yourself together and looked in the mirror, a small tear fell from your left eye and landed on your cheek. You dabbed it off with a napkin and whispered to yourself, "Showtime".

______________________________________________________________

There, on stage in an elegant evening gown, you stood. Smiling and greeting everyone while the thoughts of him being with another woman ran through your mind. You had told the backstage crew already which song you were going to sing, and it was a ballad towards your lost love.

The music began and you saw Ran sitting in the crowd, smile glistening at you as you were his pride and joy. Disgust came across your face, as you noticed he had not a single clue that you knew.

Something told me it was over When I saw you and her talkin' Something deep down in my soul said, 'Cry, girl' When I saw you and that girl walkin' around...

You continued to sing, watching as Ran was starting to shift uncomfortably in his seat. His face remained nonchalant as you reached the chorus of the song. Mikey and Rindou, who were sitting next to him, noticed his behavior and began to stare, questioning his nervous antics.

I would rather, I would rather go blind boy Than to see you walk away from me child, and all...

Ran would finally get the hint, the song was directed towards him as he saw the anger begin to spread across your face. The lyrics, the body language, everything... he knew that you knew.

So you see, I love you so much That I don't want to watch you leave me baby Most of all, I just don't, I just don't want to be free no...

It was this verse alone that made Ran stand up to leave. He had enough of the guilt, the embarrassment. He knew that Mikey and the others knew. He knew that you normally only performed upbeat pop songs, yet, you had chosen a ballad of lost love to call him out on his bullshit.

And baby, baby, I would rather, I would rather be blind boy Than to see you walk away, see you walk away from me, yeah Baby, baby, baby, I'd rather be blind now...

As you reached the end of the song, Ran was left standing at the corner of the club. By the door, he waited until the last line. Once he heard it, he slammed open the door and walked out, leaving you on stage with a large crowd cheering for you. You had conveyed the message of your broken heart.

______________________________________________________________

Ran had snuck up behind you in the back of the club in your dressing room. He had tears in hi eyes but strangely enough, a blank look on his face.

"It's over, isn't it?" He finally spoke as you looked at him through your mirror.

"I'm afraid it is, Ran."

"Would you ever let me explain myself? Would you ever let me redeem myself?" He begged.

You couldn't speak. You were at complete loss for words as he tried to wrap his arms around you. Three years were down the drain.

"No..." You said quietly. He unwrapped his arms and stood back. You looked up, eyes watering and makeup starting to run. You looked so beautiful when you cried, like a weeping angel with the voice of a siren.

"Please... Y/n..." He begged once more.

"Leave, Ran." He did as you said, but not without turning around once more to look at you; taking in all of your beauty.

(A/N: I'm feeling a lot better, hope you enjoy this! It broke my heart just to write it.)

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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

Note

Reader that can emit sounds from their memory(like as an aura)

Walk into a room? Why do I hear boss music

Comedic timing? Fuck yeah.

Bored? Jumpscare noise.

Zhongli talking? Jeopardy theme.

Someone is annoying? Earrape.

Think about it!

Hello! I’m the 12th Harbinger, aka as CHIL- bitch shut the fuck up, WHATS UP ITS YA BOY AQUARIUSSS- /ref

lmao imagine you walking into a room like this in teyvat, with like that audio I SAVE BY GIVING IT CPR- TIGHT AS VIRGIN BOY DONT GET NERVOUS-

(also ill stop apologizing for the late replies to these, bc as we all know by now that im slow and u will get answered eventually i promise tumblr most likely didnt delete u guys asks im just hoarding them LMAO)

I’ve been super busy running in circles so sorry about ghosting! I still very much enjoy and love u guys and love seeing you guys enjoy my stuff :’)

Still cant believe that, but thank you!

JEOPARDY THEME MUSIC WHEN ZHONGLI TALKS

HE’D BE SO CONFUSED

THINKIN HE GOT AN ANCIENT CURSE HE DOESNT KNOW ABT PUT ON HIM OR SMTH BC HE’S ALWAYS BEING STALKED BY THIS SONG-

(tbh unless the person is super observant I dont think most ppl would get that it’s YOU causing this chaos lmao)

◇

Like I can see Zhongli eventually getting it lol, other ppl I could see after the first few weeks of interacting with you (esp bc you mix it up, honestly it was only bc u kept playing the jeopardy theme over and over when Zhongli ranted on too long that he got it was you 💀):

Heizou (he’s the best detective on all of Inazuma’s islands, ofc he got it! no he will not acknowledge that he totally thought you were hiding a very musical tanuki somewhere on your person at all times lol)

◇

Alhaitham and Cyno (haitham took like, two hours of walking around town with you and knew, bc he’s a little know-it-all lazy bastard like that, and Cyno is actually just really aware, despite what most ppl think, he’s the General Mahamatra and not just a regular Mahamatra for a reason after all)

◇

Tighnari (i stg he can like, smell when bullshittery is happening in his vicinity …or... hear?)

◇

Venti (unsurpringly, he’s totally in love with this power of yours, i mean he definitely loves you cares about you a lot he says, but you’re starting to think he’s just lying to butter you up into pranking Diluc, Barbara, Jean, and really the entirety of Mondstadt more often including Zhongli just so he can laugh until he’s on the ground again, also he definitely once asked you to make a dragon sound that’s the equivalent of shouting FUCK at Dvalin when he was flying overhead one day)

◇

Hmm

Hm hm hmmmm

Who elseee, i need a characcctterrr lisstttt…

Albedo (duh, he’s albedo, you think he has an entirely too thick folder dedicated to your recent obsessions, you rant a lot about it while playing and also he can access your browsing history 👀, and he somehow doesn't know that about you?? You’re like, literally one of his long-term, there-for-life, has-bought-a-house-for-free-in-his-head-you- arent-even-on-rent-anymore, hyperfixations or special interests. Autistic!Albedo is autistic, Because I Am Your God, And I Say It Is So.)

◇

Dehya (always knows when its you walking around near her bc you like to listen to your old world’s songs too often when you arent pranking bitches, she actually rlly likes it and your music tastes…)

☆

HOLY FUCK SPEED RUN BC GOD THERE’S TOO MANY BITCHES WANNA BE YOUR BABY, RIDING AROUND IN A DAMN MERCEDES-

OKAY-

SO not all in the same way or at the same time, or even the same length of time did they realize you literally change background music or some shit so I’ll let you just- you know okay- like you get it- you get it.

Xiao, Kazuha, Kaeya, Diluc, Ayato, Yae Miko, Keqing, Qiqi, Klee, Sara, Kuki, Nahida, Ningguang, Rosaria, Scaramouche/Babygirl, Dainsleif, Kokomi, Xinyan, Yun Jin, Yelan.

Jfc got the whole damn pride flag up here

Anyway everybody else outta luck, at least takes em a month or longer to get it lol

♡

Sorry abt the end there i didnt feel like writing out all those bitches bc the few I did before were already longer than I thought they’d be…

Also, I am posting these spam of drafts (and that old follower 100+ event possession headcanons in prep for the next 2 weeks bc I will be really busy, again :/

Got spring break shenanigans this week, then I’ll be running around like a cat with zoomies bc im getting ready to install/actually submit my artworks for the gallery exhibition!

…wish me luck or prayers or anything good from any god you believe in, I need the strength.

With love, safe travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

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mrstellmeafuckingsecret · 3 months ago

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SIRIUS' BIRTHDAY WEEK !!!!!!!!! @lilacella's post btw x

day v : non-magic au head canons.

occupation.

i love my political man sm. him being like a speaker, pref for convicts/wrongful convicts is so very important to me. he's rich, he's intelligent, he would give good speeches, he's smart enough to pander to the younger audience.

on the other hand, i REALLY like him as like . a neurosurgeon. or like a biophysicist. i really like him in bio grr. he's super smart i feel like he deserves to do something with it.

also, just for funsies, i like the idea of him being like an influencer. he would be so controversial. or like a tutor on youtube who doesn't have any energy and all the comments are like 'i love biology haha can he give me a personal lesson for the reproduction chapter 🩷'

OH AND ALSO. model sirius. my baby.

hobbies/likes.

writing <33

reading !!!

fashion

crosswords

lowk studying,

playing music (pref the guitar or piano)

cricket

looks/clothing.

6'0-ish

straight hair

LONG hair, falls to his hips

long nails

cant decide if he wears highly curated fits or wears incredibly basic ones because his body is the fit,

tattoos.

shoe collection

had a bottle blonde era.

buzzcut.

music.

idk i wanted to do this but i dont know any music artists except of like the mainstream pop princesses,

probably likes 80s/90s usic

rock, nu metal, classical. bye.

bon jovi, queen, nirvana ("NAME 3 SONGS 🤬🤬"), pink floyd, etc idk

doesnt like taylor swift but has gotten drunk and the entirety of midnights with it with lily

will fight people who listen to punk music and thinks that makes them punk while being like . conservatives.

has a lot of music history knowledge thats just spawned in him

backstory.

trying to figure out a muggle au ver of the war is . hard. its meant to be world war 2 ish so i suppose the obv route to go is nazis (boo!!!). azkaban is switched out for solitary confinement . idk :(

also, idk, i imagine him growing up super religious.

i feel like him living on the streets till he makes it to potter manor is also a lot easier to incorporate here and yum im a sucker for homeless sirius.

moodboard.

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wehangout · 23 days ago

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✍️AO3 Wrapped!!✍️

Thanks to @energievie @jrooc and @blue-disco-lights for the fun tag!

How many words have you written this year?

AO3 claims it's 155k, but it's including Suncatcher in its entirety, and a reposted fic, so no. But if I do the math by subtracting most of Suncatcher and the reposted fic, and then adding WIPs it's about 144k which is bonkers.

How many works did you publish this year?

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Suncatcher. Finishing that felt good.

What work of yours has the most hits?

Suncatcher (17,379)

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Wanna Go Again? Like, I knew you guys were pervs, but wow

Favorite title you used.

I thought Five. Four. Three. was really clever given the fic. Countdown to midnight? Nah, we're counting down to their first kiss.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

Wow, for the first time in forever I did not use a single song lyric

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Ian and Mickey

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Ian and Mickey

What work was the quickest to write?

Hey, How's it Going?

What work took you the longest to write?

Probably one of the Fast & the Furious ones.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Three started, but I wanna do more F&F and more hitmen au

What’s your longest work of the year?

Excluding Suncatcher because most of it was written previously, Wanna Go Again?

What’s your shortest work of the year?

Five. Four. Three.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

None that are posted.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Explicit Sexual Content. Weird.

Your favorite character to write this year?

🥰Mickey🥰

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

🙄Mickey🙄

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

One WIP explores Lip/Mandy in a very AU setting which I'm excited about.

Which work of yours have you reread the most?

Either Tequila Sunrise or Of Monsters and Men (which was my repost this year)

How many kudos in total did you get this year?

2,431

Which work has the most comments?

Suncatcher

Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Does the Big Bang I'm working on count?

Did you write any gifts this year?

Did you receive any gifts this year?

I did! @bawlbrayker wrote a little something and gifted it to a bunch of us 😂

What’s your most common category?

What do you listen to while writing?

Nothing

Favorite work you wrote this year?

Suncatcher will always hold a special place in my heart and finishing that meant everything, but The Prison Chick is right up there.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

144k words and you expect me to choose? Okay, I'll pick from The Prison Chick since I just said it's my fave ...

He shifts at his seat on the bed. “Look, can this be done? I did what I did, Iggy did what he did, and now you’re safe, yeah?” You step closer. “You helped me.” “Whatever.” “I want to help you, too.” He meets your gaze. “You already have.” “No, I mean it, I –” “No, I mean it.” His gaze flickers to Starry Night and back again. “You’ve helped me. More than you could ever know.” “All I’ve done is try to be your friend.” “Yeah,” he says, voice soft. “Exactly.”

Biggest surprise while writing this year?

The way I started again and just ... didn't stop. (also some of that kinktober like wow)

Tagging @palepinkgoat @gallawitchxx @whatthebodygraspsnot @bawlbrayker and @catgrassplantdad

#tag game #ao3 wrapped #thanks evie!#this was fun!

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itsdannysworld · 9 months ago

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One Last Kiss

Hiii! Im back with some angst with a lil bit of fluff and then more angst Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Reader Warning: angst, breakups, sad shit lmao (also I listened to xxxtentacion while writing this so I feel like the song remedy for a broken heart fits this)

enjoy-

“So this is it? Really y/n?” Sam and you had been arguing for over an hour, both of you sitting on opposite sides of the couch. “Yes Sam, it really fucking is. I’m done not feeling cared for! I know you're busy but Jesus Christ Sam! I just ask for the occasional text back and maybe for you to actually be home but no, I never get that.” You knew his schedule was packed, leading him to spending many nights sleeping on the uncomfortable couches of the studio. But also nine times out of ten he was crashing on one of the guys couches after drinking away his liver. “Fine then, I guess this is it.” You lowkey wished he would’ve fought for y’all more. “Sam, did you ever even love me?” You were starting to cry at this point. You hated that he was seeing you cry over y’alls breakup, but your tears were hard to contain. “Oh y/n baby, of course I loved you. It’s just, shit man.” His eyes welled with tears.

“Loved?”

“I guess, I mean I love you. I’m just no longer in love with you.” You don’t know what snapped but suddenly you were filled with an overwhelming amount of anger. “So you’ve just been leading me on Sam? Seriously? Fuck you.” Your voice broke at the end. Saying “Fuck you” to him was so foreign. You rose to your feet and went to grab your keys and purse, barely being able to see through the tears streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry y/n.” He had stood up and started walking towards you. “This is going to sound so pathetic.” You whispered. “No love, what's up?” He replied with the same tone you had. “Can I have one last kiss before I go? Please.” He nodded before pulling you in. You ignored the mixture of snot and tears as you leaned in for a final kiss, wishing everything was normal.

Three months later, give or take

It took awhile, but you sorted life out and had adjusted to being single. You started working for a record label as an assistant, which kind of sucked, but interacting and working with music had always been your dream. That’s probably what made you and Sam connect so well, the shared love of music.

Fuck why am I still thinking about him?

You had gone a week after the fight to pick up your things, there were many more tears, and a surprising amount of kisses for two people who had just broken up. Y’all hadn’t spoken since, and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him.

That's why it caught you seriously off guard when you walked into a meeting to find the entirety of Greta Van Fleet sitting across from you.You wanted to turn around and run to your car, and you could probably get away with it considering how much your boss loved you. You felt bad though, not wanting to ditch her and your job.

“Hey y’all!” You plastered on a fake smile. Sam looked normal, which oddly stung. You didn’t want him to look or feel awful, but you wished maybe he would give off the appearance that the breakup hurt him as much as it hurt you. “Y/n! I didn’t know you worked here?” Josh stood up from his chair and gave you a massive hug. His bear hugs were something you had always loved, and it immediately put you at ease with the situation. “Yeah! It’s pretty new.” You smiled and took your seat.

After the longest meeting ever, you said your goodbyes and hurried out of the room. You stayed quiet for most of it, but caught Sam’s eye more than you’d like to admit. “Hey, y/n.” You heard from behind you. You spun around to meet Sam’s eye. “Hey.” You replied monotonously. “Can we uh, maybe go get coffee or something? I think we should catch up.” He offered. “Um, sure. I get off in an hour.” It took everything in you not to give him a hug or tell him you miss him. “Cool cool, well I gotta run to the smoke shop and I’ll be back to pick you up?” You nodded. “Yeah Sam, that’d be great.”

The hour passed by a lot quicker than you wanted it to. You said goodbye to your boss and headed out the door. You quickly found Sam’s car and knocked on the window before hopping in. You had always done that so you didn’t catch someone off guard before hopping into their car, and Sam always bullied you for it. “So you still do that?” He said as he backed out of the parking space. Mhm.” You absentmindedly reached into the cup holder where he always kept his vape, picking it up and taking a large hit. You exhaled and immediately realized your fuck up. “Shit, I’m so sorry I should’ve asked first.” You said. “No hun, don’t worry about it. In all honesty, I got green apple because I know it’s your favorite.” He admitted sheepishly. “You’re sweet.” You smiled. So maybe he did miss you.

After riding in silence you finally arrived at your usual coffee spot. He parked, but spoke up before you had left the car. “Look y/n, I’m so fucking sorry. Leaving you and treating you like I didn’t care was the worst decision I think I’ve ever made” “Sam, you said you didn’t love me.” You muttered. “Well I guess my dumbass does, because you are all I ever think about. I miss you more than I can even explain. I guess I was just in such a weird rut I convinced myself I didn’t love you anymore? Fuck I don’t know how to explain it.” He looked frustrated, mainly with himself. “Sam, I miss you more than anything. And I love you beyond words, but I just can’t do us again. I was and still am so so fucking hurt. I’m sorry.” At this point you were both crying. “No, I get it. And this is going to sound so pathetic.” He mumbled the last part. “Mhm?” “Can I have one last kiss? Please.” “Of course Sam, I could never deny you that.”

#gvf #jake gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #danny wagner x reader #sam kiszka gvf #josh gvf #fanfic #danny wagner #sam kiszka x reader

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 1 year ago

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Their Song (Killshot, Part 4.)

Description: The occupation as a member of SAS came along with many restrictions and rules one had to follow to a dot. It could get even more intense for a soldier carrying a lot of trauma and not enough self-love, if any at all. Thank God, this lonely soldier meets a lonely florist one day, and as they say - animals have the best judge of character.

Part Summary: While Ghost was trying to process the new information during his military duties, Cassie had a different idea on her mind - inviting you both to join the party during the upcoming karaoke session.

A/N: Okay listen, I know we're here for our boy Ghost and his story, but come on - we can not ignore how fine of a specimen Captain John fucking Price is. Like girl, don't even pretend you wouldn't be smitten by this charmer. He's the catch, the moment, the stunner. I wanted to write a chapter that focuses on the relationship between other characters too, so expect some bonding between Johnny, Cass, Nelly, Gaz and Price. Cuz we love good friendships and happy families. The chapter's ending is heavily influenced by Saturn and Turning Page by Sleeping at Last.

Warnings: Strong mentions of anxiety, reader getting hammered, usage of alcohol, and smoking (both mentioned and active), Simon Riley secretly having the voice of an angel. A lot of '...' is used in emotionally heavy moments. Mentions of various pop songs - it's not important, you can imagine singing any song you'd like - the only song I'm adamant about is Meet Me At Our Spot (by the Anxiety) being their song because the entirety of the story is built on it.

Word count: 9.5K (i have no apology)

Tagging: @poohkie90

Master list: H E R E | Ghost's tapes: P L A Y L I S T

Cassie did as she promised - after Simon texted her the address, she was at your flat within the next 15 minutes. The traffic was usually clogged at this hour, but she did her best. Simon couldn't appreciate it enough. "... And I've cooked some vegetable broth for when she wakes up. Think it's a bit strong, but whatever. It'll get her back on her feet.." - Simon explained to Cassie as he walked through the flat, explaining what went down that evening. The woman listened intently, nodded, and hummed when needed. - "Promised her I'd wake her up when it's done, but she looked miserable the last time I checked on her."

"That's very nice of you." - Cassie smiled, putting her coat away as she was making herself more comfortable - she packed fresh homey clothes and the most basic hygiene she could need in case your flu got even worse than that. Living alone wasn't easy and sometimes, you needed someone to rely on - Cassie, still considering you one of her closest friends, was glad she could be that someone for you. - "She's lucky someone's looking out for her like you do.

"The least I could do, really." - The man grunted, putting his jacket on. No matter how much he liked being around Cass, he wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He was barely containing the urge to beat Billy to a pulp and he didn't want to direct these intense emotions towards Cass or, in the worst case, you. - "Bonnie's also taken care of, took her for a walk, and checked she had enough to drink and to eat. Would be wise to walk her in the morning, though." "Aye aye, captain. Stop worrying - you keep on forgetting that I live with Johnny, I know how to make shit work." - The blonde nodded, smirking at all the concern she could see in Simon's eyes. - "I'm sure both of them will be alive and well tomorrow morning if you'd like to check on them. Or, you could cancel your plans and hang around? I'm sure Y/N would be delighted to see you when she wakes up." "Can't. It's urgent." - Simon dismissed, looking around for the last time. The peaceful image of being able to put his shoes in the same shoe rack was smushed by all the anxiety and hatred he was feeling. It felt as if this image flashed in his head years ago, not a few hours ago.

Cassie was waiting for Simon to make sure everything was okay - it was hard to say what was going on inside his mind, but there had to be something. Yes, she and Johnny caught the wind that your chemistry seemed to be flowing well - especially after you disclosed to her that Ghost visits you nearly every shift, spending your lunch breaks together. She wouldn't have suspected the two of you were at this stage, though. Cassie was... Genuinely happy when she heard Simon was at your place, taking care of you when you got sick. The two of you were one of the best people she had gotten to know - and from what little Johnny told her about L.t., neither of you had the best of luck with the people who hung around you. Cassie wasn't sure who it was when it came to Simon, but in your case, Billy was the prime example. She hated his guts ever since you introduced them on one of your shifts. The guy gave her the chills even though she mostly liked everyone - that was a major red flag.

Therefore, the knowledge of the two of you... Spending time together, getting to know each other... That was something that made Cassie smile. "Hey, Si?" - She asked when Simon finally walked to the front door, ready to leave the apartment. "What is it?" "Hope you didn't forget about next Saturday?" "How could I? You and Johnny keep bugging me off about it. Price also chimed in today." - Ghost reiterated with irony, sending one of his famous wink in Cassie's direction. - "Can't wait." "Take care, big guy."

For the next few hours, Cassie and Bonnie dozed off while watching the Bake Off - the two were splayed on the couch, nuzzling together. Bon usually slept in your bed (you even bought the doggie stairs for her since she was too small to hop onto it), but since your door was shut tight and there was a new strange human friend to hang around, she gladly spent the night with Cass. It could be around four in the morning when you woke up, setting on a journey to take a piss, have some veggie broth, take some painkillers, and then, go to sleep again. As you noticed Cassie messaging her eyes (the creaking of your floorboards woke her up), you thought you'd simply made her up. The last you remembered, Ghost didn't have long blonde hair and a petite figure. She frightened you when you walked back into the living room - the girl was standing in the small kitchenette area, heating up the broth while making you both a cup of tea.

"Mornin', sleeping beauty." - She hummed as she stretched her back, yawning as she did so. "Hi." - You muttered back, coughing right after. - "What are you doing here? When... Did you come?" "Around 8? Ghost had something going on and couldn't stay, unfortunately, so he called for backup. I'm the backup." "Figures. So sorry to bother you, but I'm good, Cass. Bet you'd rather be doing anything else than hanging around with me right now." "Shush, Y/N. I'm glad to be here." - The woman answered, sending you one of her heartfelt, genuine smiles. Damn, she was still the same sunshine you remembered. - "On a different topic, I hope you're hungry. The broth smells so damn good." "He promised to wake me up when it's done. Bet the plans came out of nowhere." - You assumed, putting on a sweater to try to fight off the chills. You were so cold that your teeth kept on clattering.

"Does sound like Ghost to me." - The girl answered, snickering. - "He checked on the flat at least four million times before he left, though, so you can be sure we're safe and sound here." "Were you cleaning up?" - You wondered, noticing the folded clothes - furrowing at the sight of your coat also being neatly folded. Whoever was cleaning up your kitchen was a damn genius. All of the appliances suddenly seemed pristine, even those that you struggled to clean for years. Everything was organized in a way that simply made sense. It was hard to explain, but the newly given order made your kitchen three times nicer. Also, all the mess laying around the flat, that you've been planning on cleaning the entire week, was neatly put on the coffee table for you to organize - along with that fucking photo... And that fucking letter. "No, me and Bon dozed off after McAvoy went on a tangent about his dough being a bit too wet." - Cassie admitted honestly, putting a mug filled with hot tea in front of you. You didn't flinch away from the sight of the photo and the letter lying on the coffee table, your expression devoid of emotion.

Ghost, you realized, your expression slowly drowning in worry and horror. Did Ghost see it? Did Ghost read it? Of course he did, you didn't bother with picking up the photo even though you knew it was lying under the fridge. Why would you? But what about about you now? You were in so much trouble, if Billy gets to know, he'll come and... You had to almost slap yourself. Billy wasn't there to do shit anymore. You were safe. As you sat there, frozen in place, you realized you weren't even mad at Ghost - it felt so freeing for someone to know. To know what you're going through, to see it all on paper. You should've been raging, you should ask Cassie to call Ghost's sorry ass so you could talk with him about who gave him the right to fucking snoop - and instead, you were so fucking grateful. A huge portion of the weight was lifted off your shoulders, realizing there was someone you could confide in regarding what Billy said... You could tell Ghost about everything Billy had done to you.

Sure, most people didn't like Billy, but none of the said people knew how bad the situation truly was. Others could see only how he treated you in public - how he talked about you as if you were a pet, something he had to take care of, something so annoying he hated it with every fiber of his being. What they didn't know? About everything that had happened in your old apartment, about what went down behind the closed doors. None of them knew about the numerous emergency visits, about all the 'stairs you've fallen off', about the holes in the walls, about the broken furniture and dishes. The people around you, except your mum, didn't know. The fact you didn't file a report against his ass was astonishing - you had plenty of chances to do so. The doctor who treated you anytime you came in asked multiple times if you'd like to share something with him - you could see it in his eyes - he knew. But you never did. You were too scared. So scared you fled one day.

You should've burnt both, the photo and the letter, just like you promised your mum. Instead, the evidence lay right there, on your coffee table, and someone whom you trusted dearly was aware of your struggle.

"You alright?" - Cassie wondered, watching your distressed expression. "Hm?" "I'm asking if you're alright, been silent for the past couple of minutes. You're looking like you've seen a ghost." "I'm pretty sure he's asleep by now, but okay." - You answered, your sass making Cassie snicker.

After you've both eaten a bowl of that delicious fucking broth (it was the best you've had in your life), chatting about everything new in your respective lives, Cassie fished out a package of butter biscuits from literally nowhere. Later, she admitted she found them in the pantry - this made you smile. While biscuits weren't your go-to snack, you could appreciate them - Ghost thought of everything. He bought utensils, medicine, actual food and even snacks. If God finally decided to answer your prayers for a guardian angel, Ghost was it. "'s the tea okay?" - Cass wondered, sitting opposite you with a croaked smile. Bonnie was lying by her feet, hoping Cassie would drop at least a crumble of cookies by 'accident'. "Best I've had in years. Poured your heart into making that cuppa, didn't you?" "You bet, love. Anywho, Johnny and I were wondering... What you're up to next Saturday?" "Nothing I can think of. I'll probably have a spa day with my mum. Hadn't taken her out in a month." "Would you like to come to a karaoke with us? It's in the evening, so you'd have plenty of time for your mum and yourself." - Cass asked excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope. - "Everyone's wondering if you'd show up!"

"Uh-uh, they surely are." - You reiterated uncomfortably. It was hard to believe any of the people surrounding Cassie would genuinely want you around - you could say Cass was enthralled by the prospect of having you join their little crew, but the rest? "Not this again, girl. For starters, Johnny is talking my ear off regarding you, constantly asking if I've invited you yet? What did the bonnie say? You hadn't asked her? Shite, hon, pick up the phone and do it right now!" - The way she horridly imitated Johnny's accent made you genuinely laugh. - "Nelly asked countless times if you'd join our brunches and hangouts, she hadn't talked to you in years. Kylie will be there. Gaz promised he'd stop by for a drink, and Price... Girl, you'll love Capt'n Prize. He's easygoing, fun and very easy on the eyes." "Cass! Behave, you have a man at home." - You exclaimed, staring at her in disbelief. "What?! He's one handsome bloke, a high-ranking geezer in the military, too - I won't be denying he's handsome. If you think I'm wicked, you should hear what Johnny says about the guy! You have no idea how many times I've had to listen to Johnny's rambling about John's pecs." - With this, you both giggled until comfortable silence fell over the room.

"So... Are you coming?" "I... I don't think it's appropriate. You guys seem like a good party of friends, I'd be your plus one - the new weirdo on the block. Yannow what I mean?" "Except you wouldn't be, dummy. C'mon, everybody wants you to come. Ghost even said it's his only condition - you wouldn't wanna let the guy rot at home now, would you?" "He said that? You're committing emotional extortion right now, Cassandra." - You tried to circle around, but Cass' knowing smile revealed she was seeing right through your bullshit - she knew well to keep Ghost's wish under wraps until the last moment. It was nice watching you get excited, giddy up and grin a bit. She didn't answer your question, just smiled - "Well... If that's the case, I might drop for a glass or two." "I'm so happy to hear that. Wear whatever bloody hell you want, we don't care, just feel comfy and come in a good mood. The drinks are on us, we'll only need help with the rental. Also - we need to sing a song together." "No way Cass. You remember how bad I am at singing, right?" "Bull-fucking-shit. It's gonna be so epic. God, I can't wait."

Well, no matter how much you tried to resist and how you planned on shutting Cass' request down, by 9 p.m. on the following Saturday, the two were yelling some pop-song lyrics into the microphone with a drink in your hand. Holy fuck it felt wonderful to let all the worries and burdens go, even for one evening.

The week leading up to the karaoke session was a doozie for both you and Simon. He contemplated asking Cassie for your number, to call you, text, check on you - he'd been scheduled to look after rookie training in a boot camp a few miles away from London, unable to make it back even for a small chat. He vanished into thin air at the worst time - he acknowledged but couldn't do anything to let you know. The man wished to let you know he wasn't mad and that he certainly wasn't going anywhere - but opening such a sensitive topic with the victim of domestic abuse was very tricky. Of which he was aware, as he also fell into this bracket. At times, Ghost wished he'd be better at conveying emotions and more approachable to open such topics. Although everything that happened during his life, he'd considered himself a good listener - he highly doubted you'd simply spill the beans about the darkest time of your life when you meet up next time, let alone acknowledge he snooped in your private matters without your permission. Were you mad at him? How much will you tell Ghost off when he makes it back home? Will it lead to a well-deserved argument? It should, right? The thoughts about you and William consumed Simon's brain during each second of the service, turning him into an anxious ball by the end of the week.

Not that you'd be faring better than Simon. If it was possible, you were doing even worse than he was - what was wrong? Where was he? Was he okay? Did the letter make him change his mind? Did Ghost draw false conclusions from it? Each day at work, you hoped to see the man approaching in the distance, carrying two cups - this would be the first sign that everything was okay. You wished he'd drop by for a chat, even if you'd awkwardly sit around in silence. Being unable to see him was killing you - only on Thursday you learned about his minor deployment. It didn't ease the stress much, but at least you knew you weren't the cause of his disappearance.

Cassie and Johnny, thankfully, pulled through. The night Cass stayed over, watching you, rekindled the long-lost friendship and fueled it with a new flame. This one was gentler, not all-consuming - it wasn't the spontaneous friendship of two kids but rather a meaningful adult connection you felt you were missing. Your mum was over the moon hearing that Cass invited you for a karaoke - as you told her about Johnny bringing you breakfast the following morning put a gentle, knowing smile on her face. The two started texting you whenever they felt like it, ranging from 'How you doing' to 'Look what a weird strange thing I found in the store today'. Johnny even came on Friday to have lunch with you - he'd been just dismissed from the base (he had to sign some new payment estimates and take a picture for his personnel folder), sending warmest regards from Ghost. This boosted your mood immensely, turning you into a brand new person.

This led you to Saturday night. Everyone invited to the karaoke was pretty neat, you had to admit. Nelly, just as Cass solemnly swore, was over the moon when she saw you approaching the table, squealed, and immediately pulled you into one of her bear hugs. Kylie, even though you didn't remember her, was easy to be around - she had a nice aura surrounding her as she sipped on her margarita. Gaz, Kyle to you, was another member of Johnny's squad, you've learned on your way to get a drink. The gentleman got on his feet when you announced you'd like something to drink, offering to accompany you. There was something about his careful tone, gentle smirk and slightly narrowed eyes. While you perceived Johnny as an unstoppable force fuelled by sweets and coffee, Gaz seemed calmer, like cold gauze treating a burn or the soothing smell of air after rain. You loved his aura - every bit of energy Kyle offered, you took with a grateful smile.

John Price, Capt'n Prize as Cass dubbed him, was every bit like Cass painted him out to be - even more than that. It was hard to believe he was real at first - men like him usually ended up on the cover of Sears. Your eyes were there for Ghost and Ghost only, but damn, John was ridiculously easy on the eyes, charming, and attractive - a fucking stunner at his finest. When you got over his ridiculous attractiveness, there was everything else about John Price. There was something about his sharp wit, rascalous grin and devious jitters in his eyes, something about the way he insisted on joining him on his smoke breaks. The guy was a good listener, sneering and gruffing upon hearing your jokes and stories, his eyes not leaving you for a second. If you weren't smitten with your masked soldier, you'd beg Price to give you his number by the end of the night.

Ghost was running late ('Don't you worry 'bout the boy, lass, he's alright', Price informed), and after Gaz brought you your third drink, singing sounded like a good fucking idea. Not too much later, you and Cassie were jumping on the impromptu stage, dancing to some sort of British electro-pop, grinning from ear to ear - Ghost was standing in the shuffle door of your reserved lounge, watching you two enjoying the moment. He'd imagined how to explain his late arrival and the fact he was gone for a week, but the moment you sent him a smile and waved at him, already a bit tipsy, all the excuses dissipated into thin air.

You looked so beautiful when you were having fun - all the worries and everyday problems disappeared with a wave of a wand (more probably a microphone, that was), and alcohol gave you the long-lost courage and love for life. Ghost had seen you happy before, yes, but he hadn't seen you entirely carefree yet. "Thank you, Lucky Voice, thank you! We'll be here all week!" - Cass cried out drunkenly, bobbing a curtsy to the entire table of drunkards watching you. "The hell we won't, the rental price is insane here, lass!" - Johnny protested, making Cass laugh. Kylie and Gaz got up, preparing to sing Abba's 'Super Trouper' right after your tremendous performance. Even though Ghost would love nothing but listening to them, he couldn't miss how you approached him, your legs unsteady and uncertain.

"Hey there, stranger." "Hey, love." - The man whispered, growing soft upon looking at your flustered face. You were a bit sweaty from all the jumping, but you still looked so fucking good. So fucking good that Ghost had to do his best not to kiss you right off the bat in fact - it was a tough week and you were finally there, in front of him, close enough he could feel your warmth on his skin, close enough to be hugged, kissed and cherished... Your presence felt like a fever dream. He'd been sacked at the boot camp, looking over rookies, and following orders while having you and William on his mind all the fucking time. One moment, he swore he'd kill the guy the next chance he got; when he blinked, memories of you suddenly appeared, plastering yourself all over his brain, smiling sweetly at him. He's been missing your presence, the unmistakable charm you were bringing to the world... It was a week since he'd been under your spell and there was no other place in the entire world he'd rather be than at the karaoke bar, right by your side. "You're looking... Rough." "Am I now?" "Long week?" "Fuckin' tell me about it." "The boys mentioned. Wanna grab a drink and go for a smoke break? I'm fresh out of mine so I'd appreciate both - some booze and fresh air." "Would be my pleasure."

Asking him about all the details he'd been willing to share, the two of you grabbed a drink and ventured in front of the karaoke bar for a bit, lazily shuffling back into the rented lounge. Even though you tried your damnest to prolong the moment you were having with Ghost, Johnny ruined the intimacy the moment he saw you approaching - the guy jolted over to you, grabbing you by your elbow with great care. "We're gonna sign, bonnie lass, me 'n you. Price found the perfect song for us." "Did he now? That sounds menacing." "It'll be in good fun, c'mon. Be a good sport for me, eh?" "I would never turn you down, Johnny. I'm just worried about which tune Price picked out, 's all."

"Give me your drink. I'll fetch it to the table." - Ghost offered silently, melting at the sight of you and Johnny giggling like two little kids. With a sorrowful smile, your glass ended up in Ghost's palm - you wished the moment would've lasted longer, that you'd have longer for listening to him rambling about everything and nothing. You missed him. "'m sorry." - You added, stopping in your tracks. Johnny halted alongside you, watching the two of you ogling back and forth, Simon's eyes boring into you with unmatched intensity. If you'd let him, his eyes would probably devour you whole. Johnny let out a quiet whistle, waiting for you to be done with your small moment. Cassie proclaimed how she's positive Simon is into you and that you might be interested in him... But seeing it unravel in front of his eyes was adorable.

Your eyes never left Simon's face, your palm gently holding onto his forearm. You were standing inappropriately close - Simon could feel your breast bumping into his arm each time you took a breath. If you were anyone else (Nelly, for example), Ghost would've already shown you out of his personal space - but the guy did nothing, even took an almost unnoticeable step closer. The bloody bastard that reached an impressive 6'4 in height seemed to grow smaller and gentler in your presence, his eyes filled to the brim with warmth and adoration - why two you weren't dating yet was beyond Soap, truly. "Nothin' to be sorry about, love. You go and enjoy yourself now, yeah?" "I'll catch you later."

Moments later, you found yourself in a fit of laughter over Johnny's interpretation of 'California Gurls'. You loved everything about it - the false confidence he radiated despite not having any semblance of musical hearing, his inability to match his tone to the note progression and his horrible timing. The chorus, however, was something to behold - neither of you tried to sing, knowing the chorus by heart (thanks to this song being in the radio on a fucking loop), you simply yelled it into each other's faces, bouncing around and hyping each other up. Price didn't even cover the phone - he immortalized each second of your moving performance, sending it to Cassie the moment he ended recording. Cassie and Nelly were crying, losing it the moment you did your best to imitate Snoop Dog - Gaz appeared to be severely traumatized, cracking a grin when the hellish screeching finally stopped.

"Bloody hell, this was one of the best decisions of my life." - Price muttered, drying his cheeks. He meant it, none of them laughed this hard in the last few weeks. Cass was dragging him to sing their rendition of Take Me Out. - "I'm playin' this on your bloody wedding, sarge. Stellar." These two picked out Franz Ferdinand as their band of choice, dramatically portraying each lyric - alcohol and good company always made John pipe down, relax and sometimes, on extremely rare occasions, do rather silly and inappropriate things you wouldn't see a military skipped doing... Just as jumping around to the riff of 'Take Me Out'. "That's my fiancé! I taught my bonnie lass to listen to good fucken' music!" - Johnny explained, listening to the opening chords. You knew it, of course, it was well-known, but Johnny's sudden burst of pride made you stare at him with mouth agape. Thankfully, Kyle and Ghost to the rescue.

"Johnny can get a wee bit patriotic." - Kyle explained as the Scotsman jumped around in the rhythm, making you a bit terrified. "Uh-uh." - Ghost nodded, confirming. - "Hates us 'fucking lunatics', meaning Brits, according to his own words. Everyone except you and Cass according to his latest statement. Love that about the chap, though." "What does patriotism have to do with... Fucking anything?" - At that moment, Johnny started screaming the words with the same "grace" he sang California Gurls with. It looked both scary and funny at the same time. "The band is Scottish, you see?" - Kyle explained. "Heard him swearin' he'd plunk any uncultured swine who'd tarnish their rep." - Ghost added, taking a good swing of his whiskey. "Hillarious..." - Kyle added, clinking his glass with yours, kicking all the remnants in. "Scary." - You hummed, moving out of the way for Kyle to comfortably leave the table.

"On the topic of Johnny... Looked good out there. Didn't know you're such a talented singer." - Ghost murmured as you watched the trio, enchanted with how silly they acted. "You're fucking with me now, aren't you?" "I'm serious - wasn't as bad as I expected. Enjoyed every second of your brilliant performance." "If you enjoyed that, your musical hearing is fucked, buddy, sorry to inform you. Anywho, what will you sing?" "Oh, I'm just here for fun and banter. I don't do singing." "Don't be a party popper. C'mon." "And have you poking fun at me for the rest of my life? No, thank you." - Thankfully, he was saved by Nelly - she was asking for help with moving and assembling some furniture at her new place. Both Gaz and Ghost agreed to take a look at it whenever she needed them to.

His streak of not 'taking part in singing at karaoke' was challenged not even two hours later. The party had moved from drinks to shots - you were more courageous, not taking no for an answer. You, Cass and Nelly even had the first round of ugly crying of the night under your belts, crying about how you should've rekindled the friendship way sooner - at this, all the gentlemen decided to go for a smoke break, leaving Kyle behind as your nanny. As soon as Price got back, you were on his ass - sighing about him being one of the most handsome blokes you've ever met. Price could only choke out an amused: - "Why, thank you, miss." - before laughing his ass off at your drunk expression. You were standing in front of Simon now, your palm extended to him, chin risen ever so slightly. The expression you had was dangerous - determined and cocky.

"You need anythin'?" - Ghost prompted, grinning at the sight. He'd downed two glasses of whiskey by that point, the bourbon delicately burning in his chest. "Yah. You, me, the stage, now." - It wasn't a question nor a wish, it was an order. Simon's eyes narrowed as he smiled, darkening ever so slightly. He liked it when you were bossy. Cass, unbeknownst to your knowledge, bumped Johnny's shoulder, the duo now shamelessly staring at you. The rest of the table was engaged in a conversation as Price and Kyle told the ladies some of the less confidential stories. "I don't do singing, already told you when you asked." "Too bad I'm not asking. Move your ass, I spent ten fuckin' minutes looking for our song." "Our song?" - Simon whispered, all the air suddenly kicked out of his lungs. Of course, he knew what song you had in mind - the one playing when he worked on the chicken broth. Ashamedly, Simon had to admit he memorized each word, each chord because he had it playing on a loop in his headphones before going to sleep. "C'mon, mate. Make an exception, just for once - won't kill ya to sing. Poor lass barely hit the right keys." - Soap chimed in, his strong Scottish accent overwhelming the conversation - everyone's eyes were on you now, waiting for Simon to finally take your fucking hand. "Shit was kinda blurry, 's right." - You admitted, still waiting for Simon to take your hand. It wasn't a shame to admit you barely recognized a from m at this point, the alcohol kicked in big time.

His palm caught yours, slipping around it like a glove... As if your hands were moulded to be held by this, fitting like two pieces of a fucking puzzle. Getting you onto the improvised stage was a task in itself - you've stuttered on your way up and if it wasn't for Simon's hands catching your shoulders, you'd fall square on your face. "Who's singing Willow's part?" - Simon wondered as you offered him his microphone - your eyes darted next to his head as if you were trying to determine which of the Ghosts in front of you was the real one. "You, duh. Bet you're rocking luscious, beautiful curls under that mask 'f yours." "Fuckin' close 'nough, I guess." - The guy laughed, shaking his head at you - your drunk form was absolutely fucking adorable. If he'd have to describe it, you looked like a mischievous little devil. "Hit it, Jack!" - You exclaimed, pointing in Johnny's direction - Cassie was kneeling in front of the table with her phone at the ready, determined to catch every second of what was coming. Fuck, Simon realized, he'll have this on his plate for the foreseeable future. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" - Soap answered with matching intensity, saluting as he his 'play'. The known base filled the silent lounge, having everyone staring at you with their breaths batted - you were swaying in the rhythm, your moves far from graceful but you were clearly enjoying yourself, lost in the moment.

You didn't know what you were expecting - Simon was a well-built man with 6'3 height under his belt, his voice naturally guttural and gruffly, clouded with a thick British accent. While you braced yourself to hear the most horrible hellish screeching imaginable, Simon's singing almost gave you a heart attack and swept Johnny off his drunk feet. Ghost sounded like an angel. All of you stared at the man in disbelief as he poured his fucking soul into the lyrics, hitting each fucking note perfectly. His interpretation of your favourite song was what you wanted to listen to over and over, selfishly wishing you'd record it. Simon had to poke your shoulder to make you realise it was your turn to sing - hastily, you joined him during the chorus, surprising your small audience even further.

Your singing wasn't bad, but not Grammy-worthy either - and yet, hearing you two harmonize was magical. Soon, you'd forget about your friends at the table, staring at each other while singing your hearts out. His eyes hadn't moved from yours, the man sang each line as if he meant it - it made your heart beat heavily in your chest. For Simon, it wasn't just singing - each line of the song had a meaning. It was one of his silly little wishes it could become your reality where you'd met earlier in your lives. In this universe, you'd be just two young adults falling in love, meeting up so you'd forget all about the stress and anxiety tying you down in each other's arms.

In that reality, Simon could be enough for you and you'd be enough for yourself. You wouldn't feel the need to stick around guys who weren't good for you, you wouldn't receive extortive mail, and you wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't cover his face because he couldn't stand to look himself in the eye, neither because he was protecting his identity. In this reality, William wouldn't exist. You'd have your spot in each others' arms, falling asleep feeling safe. In this reality, you could lead a happy, day-to-day life. There was a small moment when the song finished, a glimpse of a second when Simon almost kissed you. Your expression was adoring, glimmering with happiness and pure, unconditional love - the microphone dropped by your hip, and you were staring into his eyes, taking a small step closer. The whole moment was ruined by Nelly getting up, clapping and whistling cheerfully, others following suit - not bad for Si's karaoke debut, Cassie had to admit.

As you stumbled away from Simon's reach, you stumbled on your feet again, falling flat on the ground this time. - "Fuck." "Aight, missy, 's 'nough for you tonight. I'll take you home, yeah?" "Noooo, Ghoooost..." - You whined dramatically as he helped you over to the table, sitting you down. - "The party just started, man. We can't leave now." "You tell that to your toilet later. Price?" - Ghost called out, catching his skipper's attention. - "Can you look after Miss Diva for a second? Gotta go to the bog." "You got it, kid."

It couldn't have taken more than five minutes to take a piss, Simon rushed the entire process to be back as soon as possible. And yet, you were gone when he made it back - your coat disappeared from the hanger, your purse gone too. Jesus fucking Christ. You were giving him a run for his money. "Where is she?" - Simon demanded, burning a hole in Price's forehead. Five fucking minutes. He was meant to look after you for five fucking minutes. "Y/N got some sort of a text and said she has to leave immediately. Who am I to stop her? She's an adult. Can make her own bloody decisions." "I was just about to walk her home." "Then you should've said so. Hadn't caught that." "Right."- Ghost fumed out, turning to Cassie. - "Can you give me her number?" "Yeah, of course, let me text it to you. Want help with finding her?" "You go and enjoy the rest of the night." "Si!" - Cassie cried out as Simon turned on his heels, following him immediately. - "I'm sorry, but John's right. We weren't listening in and Y/N's a grown-up..." "It's fine, Cass. I'll find her."

You couldn't have made it far - in the state you were in, on your wobbly and unsteady legs? No way in hell you'd make it even around the block. What worried Simon, however, was the park to his right hand. The man hoped you had enough reason not to walk through it. The first thing he heard was a hiccup before you drunkardly mumbled your name, doing your best impression of being sober. "'s me. Where have you fuckin' disappeared to?" "Me? I know a lot of mes, sir. My mum told me not to talk to strangers. S-Stranger fuckin' danger an' all that, yannow?" "It's Ghost, Y/N, you slipped out of the karaoke bar. Where the hell are you, woman?" "Awwww, hiiiii. I didn't know *hiccup* you had my number?" "Got it from Cass. Can you spill the tea?" "'m on my way home." - You explained as if it weren't obvious. - "The mood for partying kinda dropped to zero, decided I gotta go check on my adorable little doggo. I missed my sweet little princess." "That's all sweet. What do you see around you?" - Thankfully, you were drunk enough not to catch onto his plan of finding you and started to talk about your surroundings. For once, Simon was grateful for drunk people being gullible and honest.

"Trees. Lots of 'em. 's kinda dark around but I'm pretty sure some food *hiccup* in the distance. Yep, right up the vein!" "Dearie, don't say this sort'f stuff so loud, yeah?" - Simon asked, turning on his heels towards the park. He could hear you giggle on the other end, the sweet sound making him grin. - "What's that about?" "Dearie is cute 'n all, but I like it when you call me love. Makes me weak in my knees 'n all." - You admitted, stuttering over your words as you tee-heed again as if you told Simon some well-guarded secret. As if Simon didn't already know. "'kay love, tell me more about your surroundings, I'm on my way to get you. Can call you love for the rest of the night if you'd fancy that." "Ohmygod..." - You sighed swiftly, chuckling at the prospect ahead. Ghost tenderly whispering 'love' the whole night sounded like a fucking dream come true. - "You'd *hiccup*... You'd like to do that?" "Wished to do so for the longest time, love."

"I can see a bistro and some... Fuckin' statue. Whatever the fuck that's *hiccup* supposed to be, it's scary." "Any benches in the area?" - Even though your description was far from eloquent, Simon knew the place you had in mind. It was a small takeaway coffee selling baked goods and hot drinks to go. He hadn't visited it, but Cass mentioned it here and there because it wasn't far from her workplace and she enjoyed going there on her lunch break. The statue, if he wasn't mistaken, was representing either Shakespeare or Peter Pan, but Simon was unable to recall it correctly at the moment. As he suspected, you didn't get far at all. "Quite a lot. Fuck, I think it's some sort'f a square or somethin'." "Sit down for me, love, I'll be there soon. Stay with me on the phone for now, yeah?" "But I miss Bonnie soooo much, Ghost, I just wanna..." - He could hear as you struggled to sit down and fell onto the bench beats later. It was hard to make out what you precisely wanted to do to Bonnie, but he could hear some humming and kisses here and there. - "She's home all alone, my poor baby." "Not for long now, I swear, we'll take off as soon as I find you. How you're feelin'?" "Haven't thrown up yet. 's a good sign, no?" "Look at you. Quite impressive given everything you've poured down your throat." "I can handle my *hiccup* fuckin' alcohol." "You sure can..." - Simon answered breathlessly, finally reaching the spot - he could see your silhouette splayed all over the bench, your coat undone, your purse lying right next to you. - "You sure can, love." - He said as he approached, having you sit up straight faster than lightning. Your expression started beaming with blissful happiness the second you laid your eyes on him.

"Hi, Ghost!" - You squealed, shoving the phone into your purse, not caring to end the call. - "You look good tonight. *hiccup* Have I told you that already?" "Not that I can recall, no. Lookin' beautiful yourself." "Now you're just making shit up, I'm fuckin' wasted, dude. Drunk people never look sexy, 's what I always said anyway." "You look amazing all the time, love, without a fail. C'mon now, let's get you home." "You mean that?" - You whispered, your eyes glued to his as he helped you to stand your feet. Without his arm around your waist guiding you forward, you'd be fucked. Everything was blurry and multiplied, you couldn't say which trees were real and which were just a fragment of your imagination. "Never meant anything more in my life. Even in the most worn-out sweatpants you own. Let me take you home now, you sexy beast." "Never say that again. Sexy beast? Love's so much better. Jesus." "Your wish is my command, ma'am." - Ghost muttered sweetly, leading you towards the bus stop. Both of you were laughing, you were right - 'sexy beast' was the most horrid-sounding pet name that ever graced Simon's lips.

As mentioned before, Simon hated being the centre of attention - everything about that made the hair on his arms stand in pure displeasure. He hated when people stared at him, fearing that he was a threat; he just wished to blend into the crowd and remain unseen and unnoticed. Let's just say... That being unnoticed in a packed double-decker in central London with a giggling, drunken mess in his arms was near impossible. For once, however, Simon wouldn't change for the world - it was endearing to feel you grasping his jacket, nuzzling yourself closer so you wouldn't fall on some stranger in such a confined space. Watching and feeling your head leaning to his chest with a confined smile, taking a relaxed breath - smelling him and listening to his heartbeat. He'd imagined this so many times. Even though the circumstances were far from perfect, everything about it made Simon happy. He'd come to rescue you from any party you'd go to just to feel the fuzzy warmth bubbling in his chest again.

When you finally arrived at your flat, the first thing you did was turn into a whiney mess - instantly, you were on your knees, your clothes leaving very little to Simon's imagination. You burrowed your head in Bonnie's fur, sobbing uncontrollably. As he locked the door behind you, Simon simply hoped it was happy, let it be ugly, crying. "She's... She's so perfect." - You sobbed, pulling Bonnie close to your chest as you looked up to Simon, your make-up absolutely ruined by that point. The dog was clueless and didn't know what was happening - it simply licked your chin feverishly, welcoming you home. - "She's the best thing in my life right nooooow..." - And now, you were whaling. Great. Drunk women were the most ferocious and dangerous creatures in the universe - Simon was adamant about that. - "I love her soooo fucking much." "Absolutely correct, love, she's our perfect little girl. How about we clean your face and change you to more comfortable clothes?" Simon whispered, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear.

Seriously, he needed you to change your clothes ASAP - he'd love anything else but watching your figure and curves (the current view alone was bringing Simon many indecent thoughts)... But drunk fucking wasn't something Riley would be interested in - if the two of you were going to have sex, it would be sober and with full consent. The man prayed to whatever gods up there to make you change into the baggiest sweatpants and shirt you had lying around to cool off his libido. As you crawled out of your bedroom in a Bristle Bears jersey with biker shorts under, the crisis was, thankfully, averted.

Twenty minutes later, you splattered over your sofa - the TV was playing in the background as you sat with your face turned to Simon. He gently ran at least the 20th makeup wipe over your face with the utmost gentleness he could muster, concentration knitting his eyebrows together. He even took the liberty of making you a cup of tea, God bless him.

The window was crooked open, the rest of his cig slowly burning out in an improvised ashtray you crafted for him. That was when Simon noticed yet another wave of tears in your eyes. "What is it, love? Did I poke your eye on accident?" "No, that's not it. Thank you for being so nice to me." - You sobbed, first tears rolling down your cheeks. Simon sighed, doing his best to keep his inner peace balanced - seeing you cry for the millionth time was both soul-crushing and tiring at the same time. "'s nothin', trust me. What's goin' on in that noggin of yours?"

"You." - It was just a whisper, but it made Simon straighten up - his head slightly tilted this shoulder, his eyebrows cocked in confusion. - "Ehm, I meant, your face. You're being so nice to me, take care of me even though you don't have to, spend your free time in that damn flower shop with me even though all I can offer is my company..." "But your company's enough for me, trust..." "... And I don't even know *sob* what you look like." - You whinced, wiggling away from his palm. You were doing your best to stop the childish tantrum, even bent your head backwards and tried pushing the tears back in. - "It just... Doesn't feel fair, yannow? I know you have your reasons for covering your face. I know I'm acting like an absolute asshole over something so minuscule right now. Do you realize how stupid I feel for crushing on someone whose face I hadn't seen? I'd recognize your eyes anywhere, but I'd like to see more. And no matter what, I can't stop wishing to see more, even though I know it won't ever happen. Like... You hadn't told me what your name is, I just got your number because you were pissed at me, you never talk about yourself, or share details... And me crying about it is the stupidest and most selfish thing fucking ever because I'm your friend, and I'm supposed to respect your fucking privacy..."

Simon didn't move for a few beats, tuning out whatever you were ranting about - not that he didn't want to listen, but because the simple confession stole his breath away. What did you just say? Crushing? You had a crush on him? Simon was ready to outright propose if you'd like to, right there on your sofa, to your whiney, drunk ass. Confirming you had true feelings for him was marvellous, stopping his mind from wondering whether just flirted around, making him out to be just a nice little distraction. You weren't. As he processed the information, he couldn't help but chuckle - the sound halted your crying and whining immediately. If you had asked him any other time, Simon would've most likely denied the request outright... But since you were both drunk, the liquid courage was making him less self-aware and more confident. Why not? Why shouldn't he just go for it? Take his chances with you?

"... And I even asked Cassie about you even though I knew I shouldn't... I'm such a fucking prick, bloody hell." "That's what you're cryin' your pretty eyes out about?" - Simon asked, completely detached from whatever you were going about for the last few minutes. "I mean... *sob* I know it's selfish 'n all, but I'd say... Fuck! Yannow, some guys on the telly said that non-verbal communication makes up to 70% of all human interactions." "All you gotta do is ask, pretty girl." - Simon murmured, his breath growing shallow - his heart was beating so fast as if it were to burst out of his fucking chest, pressure raising rapidly as he realized the insanity of what was he was about to do. He'd push the baklava off his face if his palms weren't a sweaty, trembling mess. "Ghost, I beg you - can I see what you look like?" "Take it off yourself, love."

Gently scooping closer to him, you pumped your fingers a few times to stop them from shaking. Your adrenaline shot through the roof, and you started dragging your fingers on his shoulders, slowly working your way to his neck - giving him time to process your touch and get used to the stimuli. His body felt scorching under your touch, his pulse fast under the tips of your fingers. His eyes were closed, breathing unsteady, muscles tensed up unnaturally. You could see Ghost's palm clinging to the back of your couch, his fingers buried in with a force that turned his knuckles white. As you finally started peeling the baklava off, his body shuttered, leaning away from you. As if it was an unconscious reaction, Simon didn't spend any time before sliding back within comfortable reach, already missing the comfort of your touch. "You sure it's okay for you?" "Mhm. Just keep goin'. Don't stop - if you stop, it'll kill me, darling." - Simon muttered, securing himself in place. His leg was lazily thrown over your waist so you'd sit puzzled together, Bonnie sleeping wedged into the small space. He wanted you to see. Simon wished to look you in the eyes without covering his face. He finally wished you to experience and feel all the love and adoration brewing within him. "Okay."

Much to his dismay, you were taking your bloody time, tearing the material off so agonizingly slow - one hand was lifting the fabric, your dominant hand gently caressing every inch of the newly discovered skin. Your eyes tried to memorise it all in case you wouldn't see it again - the dent in his chin, his fawn stubble, the sharp outline of his jaw, sharp contours of his cheeks, his plush and full lips and even the ugly scar reaching from his upper lip to his left nostril. Your caresses worshipped his hooked nose, the sweet dark spots under his eyes, and all the freckles standing out on his upper cheeks thanks to the area being exposed to the sun more than the rest of his place. He could feel your touches moulding his skin gently, dragging your fingers on the ugly scar on his temple, carefully tugging on his soft dirty blonde hair - then, suddenly, the baklava was fully off. Simon felt it coming, but it still surprised him; so much so that he squished his lips into a tight line, as if he tried to hide from your eyes for even a second longer. Your hand discarded the baklava almost carelessly. Knowing you've thrown Simon's most precious shield on the ground left him utterly defenceless in your arms, at the mercy of your words and actions. And yet, there was no other place he'd rather be in the entire world.

"Ghost..." - Your voice grew meek with adoration and emotion, your palms still kneading his face. It was then that he finally allowed himself to peek at you, to see your expression. Your lips were parted slightly, your face flushed with heat, your eyes scanning him adoringly. Tears were dropping on your cheeks again. This time, Simon knew they were the result of the happiness you felt, therefore he didn't comment on them. Fuck, he felt like the luckiest and most handsome man walking the Earth.

"Hey there, dolly." - Gently, his lips brushed over the inner side of your palm before he leaned back into the touch. "You're so fucking beautiful. Bonnie, look." - Picking the dog up, you pointed at Simon's face and giggled, making Simon smirk right back at you. The dog yawned, licking its mouth and shaking its head - it wasn't interested in Simon's face to reveal in the slightest. - "He's perfect. Isn't he perfect? Tell him how fucking flawless he is, come on." "You don't mean that. That's the alcohol talking." - Simon chuckled while looking away from you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forced a gulp down his throat. Embarrassment painted his cheeks bright pink. You made him blush, you realized, staring at him with your mouth agape. The triumph made you cackle.

The duality of Ghost left you speechless - a confident, 6'4 guy not to be messed around with the mask, snarky humour, and his physical presence overwhelming you every time. This Ghost? Giggly, happy, slightly drunk. You loved how comfortable he looked with legs puzzled around your waist, his right arm leaning into the sofa as he looked everywhere around the room instead of you. You adored every inch of his dark pink blush and the entire universe that exploded, establishing itself behind his eyes. So this was the man you loved, the one you pinned after for the last few months? You loved every inch of him. Even if he'd look utterly different, you'd still be enchanted.

"Piss drunk people are always honest." - You admitted, caressing his upper arm. Were you staring? Probably. Was it making Ghost uncomfortable or flattered? Hard to tell. Could you be stopped? No. When will you get another chance like this, to fawn over his beauty in its full glory? He was everything you imagined... And much more than that.

"... I really like it when you blush." - It was a careful admission, but you meant it. You put Bonnie down on your lap again, leaning your elbow into the couch right next to his arm, so you could stare at him more comfortably. "... And I really like you." - Simon spilt without giving it too much thought, immediately realizing what he'd just said. Well, as Price often said, in for a penny - in for a pound. This was the night of admissions and confessions... At least it was turning out to be. And each little confession felt natural, lifting heaviness off his shoulders. You knew. You must've known by now. And yet, finally admitting to it felt uplifting. "I just want you to know that if I was bold enough, I'd kiss you right now, Ghost..." "Simon." - The man whispered, shutting you off. Hearing his government name lit your face up. An amazed sigh left your lips as you connected his name to his appearance, burning it into the back of your head. - "It's Simon Riley... My name's Simon Riley. I should've told you way sooner."

"Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon, Simon..." - You chanted as if you hadn't heard a more beautiful word before. Biting your lip, your hand has risen to his cheek again, cupping it gently. Hearing his own name falling off your lips like that was heavenly. - "A name for an angel rather than for a Ghost. I like that name. It suits you." "I'm glad to hear that, ma'am." - Simon didn't like it. The name reminded him of his old man way too much, connecting him to a troubled family tree, to the people who turned him into what he was. He wasn't willing to ruin the moment you shared, however. If you said his name's nice... It must've been. "And may I?" - You whispered, staring at his lips. Simon licked his lips expectedly, nodding to let you know it's fine, that he wants it too. He put his hand on your waist, holding you in place as he scooped you closer - you were puzzling himself into his arms as if you belonged there forever, being that one little silly puzzle piece he'd lost before he was born. Your knees wrapped around his waist as you palmed his t-shirt, steadying your position.

You were both taking your time, giggling excitedly, blissed with disbelief. Your breathing was tickling Simon's face, making Simon's smile widen. Your eyes closed as you positioned your elbow around his shoulders, your nails gently scratching his scalp. So close... He was so close. Your noses bumped together, warm skin dragging across each other, your breath finally stabilizing as you got ready for the final stretch. Simon could feel your lips brush against his... But the kiss didn't come. It never came, in fact. The moment Simon opened his eyes to deduce what was wrong, a snore cut through the comfortable silence in your apartment. At first, it shut Simon off. He was staring at you, holding his palms on your shoulder blades, playing with the ends of your hair - until he started laughing quietly.

He wasn't upset, God forbid angry with you. You were trolled, in the end, drinking way more than you should - he half expected to be holding your hair for you by this point of the night. Even though you hadn't really touched the first base, this night turned into everything Simon wished for. This was just his luck - the lady holding his heart in a headlock dozing off before anything happened. "She's knackered." - Simon whispered towards Bonnie lying on the ground. The cutesy dog had no idea what he was saying, but she was excited enough to nuzzle and nibble on his ankle. - "I know, sweet girl, I know. Let me put mommy to bed, and then we'll set out for a walkie, yeah?" - The man ushered as he started folding you into his arms bridal style. Upon the word 'walkie', Bonnie growled and whimpered excitedly, almost wiggling her tail off. - "Hush, you little furry beast."

The duo spent half an hour walking outside on a cold night, Simon taking his bloody time smoking a few cigarettes to calm down. Bonnie was doing her own thing, carrying various sticks to him so they could play fetch. As soon as the door to your flat opened and Bonnie's paws got cleaned, the dog sped into your bedroom, nuzzling to you - all you did in response was throw your hand over her, grunting displeasantly. Before leaving, Simon quickly put together a note.

'Thank you for one of the best nights of my life. Prepared some coffee and painkillers for you on the counter. Text me when you wake up. Love, - Simon'

#simon riley #simon riley x fem!reader #ghost cod #ghost x fem!reader #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john price #141 cod #task force 141 #cod: mw #here we go agaiiin #this one was a struggle to finish #i love how the ending turned out tho #they are such a cute lil mischevious pair

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softnsquishable · 1 year ago

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Thanks to this lovely post, I have been able to transcribe the entirety of the new Rock Sound magazine interview with Pete and Patrick. Find the entire transcript below the cut!

WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE

WITH THE TRIUMPHANT ‘SO MUCH (FOR) STARDUST’ CAPTURING A WHOLE NEW GENERATION OF FANS, FALL OUT BOY ARE RIDING HIGH. CELEBRATING THEIR PAST WHILE LOOKING TOWARDS A BRIGHT FUTURE. PETE WENTZ AND PATRICK STUMP REFLECT ON RECENT SUCCESSES AND THE LESSONS LEARNED FROM TWO DECADES OF WRITING AND PERFORMING TOGETHER.

You have just completed a US summer tour that included stadium shows and some of your most ambitious production to date. What were your aims going into this particular show?

Pete: Playing stadiums is a funny thing. I pushed pretty hard to do a couple this time because I think that the record Patrick came up with musically lends itself to that feeling of being part of something larger than yourself. When we were designing the cover to the album, it was meant to be all tangible, which was a reaction to tokens and skins that you can buy and avatars. The title is made out of clay, and the painting is an actual painting. We wanted to approach the show in that way as well. We’ve been playing in front of a gigantic video wall for the past eight years. Now, we wanted a stage show where you could actually walk inside it.

Did adding the new songs from ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ into the setlist change the way you felt about them?

Patrick: One of the things that was interesting about the record was that we took a lot of time figuring out what it was going to be, what it was going to sound like. We experimented with so many different things. I was instantly really proud. I felt really good about this record but it wasn’t until we got on stage and you’re playing the songs in between our catalogue that I really felt that.It was really noticeable from the first day on this tour - we felt like a different band. There’s a new energy to it. There was something that I could hear live that I couldn’t hear before.

You also revisited a lot of older tracks and b-sides on this tour, including many from the ‘Folie à Deux’-era. What prompted those choices?

Pete: There were some lean years where there weren’t a lot of rock bands being played on pop radio or playing award shows so we tried to play the biggest songs, the biggest versions of them. We tried to make our thing really airtight, bulletproof so that when we played next to whoever the top artist was, people were like, ‘oh yeah, they should be here.’ The culture shift in the world is so interesting because now, maybe rather than going wider, it makes more sense to go deeper with people. We thought about that in the way that we listen to music and the way we watch films. Playing a song that is a b-side or barely made a record but is someone's favorite song makes a lot of sense in this era.

Patrick: I think there also was a period there where, to Pete’s point, it was a weird time to be a rock band. We had this very strange thing that happened to us, and not a lot of our friends for some reason, where we had a bunch of hits, right? And it didn’t make any sense to me. It still doesn’t make sense to me. But there was a kind of novelty, where we could play a whole set of songs that a lot of people know. It was fun and rewarding for us to do that. But then you run the risk of playing the same set forever. I want to love the songs that we play. I want to care about it and put passion into what we do. And there’s no sustainable way to just do the same thing every night and not get jaded. We weren’t getting there but I really wanted to make sure that we don’t ever get there.

Pete: In the origin of Fall Out Boy, what happened at our concerts was we knew how to play five songs really fast and jumped off walls and the fire marshal would shut it down. It was what made the show memorable, but we wanted to be able to last and so we tried to perfect our show and the songs and the stage show and make it flawless. Then you don’t really know how much spontaneity you want to include, because something could go wrong. When we started this tour, and we did a couple of spontaneous things, it opened us up to more. Because things did go wrong and that’s what made the show special. We’re doing what is the most punk rock version of what we could be doing right now.

You seem generally a lot more comfortable celebrating your past success at this point in your career.

Pete: I think it’s actually not a change from our past. I love those records, but I never want to treat them in a cynical way. I never want there to be a wink and a smile where we’re just doing this because it’s the anniversary. Thai was us celebrating these random songs and we hope people celebrate them with us. There was a purity to it that felt in line with how we always felt about it. I love ‘Folie à Deux’ - out of any Fall Out Boy record that’s probably the one I would listen to. But I just never want it to be done in a cynical way, where we feel like we have to. But celebrating it in a way where there’s the purity of how we felt when we wrote the song originally, I think that’s fucking awesome.

Patrick: Music is a weird art form. Because when you’re an actor and you play a character, that is a specific thing. James Bond always wears a suit and has a gun and is a secret agent. If you change one thing, that’s fine, but you can’t really change all of it. But bands are just people. You are yourself. People get attached to it like it’s a story but it’s not. That was always something that I found difficult. For the story, it’s always good to say, ‘it’s the 20th anniversary, let’s go do the 20th anniversary tour,’ that’s a good story thing. But it’s not always honest. We never stopped playing a lot of the songs from ‘Take This To Your Grave’, right? So why would I need to do a 20-year anniversary and perform all the songs back to back? The only reason would be because it would probably sell a lot of tickets and I don’t really ever want to be motivated by that, frankly.

One of the things that’s been amazing is that now as the band has been around for a while, we have different layers of audience. I love ‘Folie à Deux’, I do, I love that record. But I had a really personally negative experience of touring on it. So that’s what I think of when I think of that record initially. It had to be brought back to me for me to appreciate it, for me to go, ‘oh, this record is really great. I should be happy with this. I should want to play this.’ So that’s why we got into a lot of the b-sides because we realized that our perspectives on a lot of these songs were based in our feelings and experiences from when we were making them. But you can find new experiences if you play those songs. You can make new memories with them.

You alluded there to the 20th anniversary of ‘Take This To Your Grave’. Obviously you have changed and developed as a band hugely since then. But is there anything you can point to about making that debut record that has remained as a part of your process since then?

Pete: We have a language, the band, and it’s definitely a language of cinema and film. That’s maintained through time. We have very disparate musical tastes and influences but I think film was a place we really aligned. You could have a deep discussion, because none of us were filmmakers. You could say which part was good and which part sucked and not hurt anybody’s feelings, because you weren’t going out to make a film the next day. Whereas with music, I think if we’d only had that to talk about, we would have turned out a different band.

Patrick: ‘Take This To Your Grave’, even though it’s absolutely our first record, there’s an element of it that’s still a work in progress. It is still a band figuring itself out. Andy wasn’t even officially in the band for half of the recording, right? I wasn’t even officially the guitar player for half of the recording. We were still bumbling through it. There was something that popped up a couple times throughout that record where you got these little inklings of who the band really was. We really explored that on ‘From Under The Cork Tree’.

So when we talk about what has remained the same…I didn’t want to be a singer, I didn’t know anything about singing. I wasn’t planning on that. I didn’t even plan to really be in this band for that long because Pete had a real band that really toured so I thought this was gonna be a side project. So there’s always been this element within the band where I don’t put too many expectations on things and then Pete has this really big ambition, creatively. There’s this great interplay between the two of us where I’m kind of oblivious, and I don’t know when I’m putting out a big idea and Pete has this amazing vision to find what goes where. There’s something really magical about that because I never could have done a band like this without it. We needed everybody, we needed all four of us. And I think that’s the thing that hasn’t changed. - the four of us just being ourselves and trying to figure things out. Listening back to ‘Folie’ or ‘Infinity On High’ or ‘American Beauty’, I’m always amazed at how much better they are then I remember. I listened to ‘MANIA’ the other day. I have a lot of misgivings about that record, a lot of things that I’m frustrated about. But then I’m listening to it and I’m like, ‘this is pretty good.’ There’s a lot of good things in there. I don’t know why, it’s kind of like you can’t see those things. It’s kind of amazing to have Pete be able to see those things. And likewise, sometimes Pete has no idea when he writes something brilliant, as a lyricist, and I have to go, ‘No, I’m gonna keep that one, I’m gonna use that.’

On ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ you teamed up with producer Neal Avron again for the first time since 2008. Given how much time has passed, did it take a minute to reestablish that connection or did you pick up where you left off?

Patrick: It really didn’t feel like any time had passed between us and Neal. It was pretty seamless in terms of working with him. But then there was also that weird aspect where the last time we had worked with him was kind of contentious. Interpersonally, the four of us were kind of fighting with each other…as much as we do anyway. We say that and the myth gets built bigger than it was. We were always pretty cool with each other. It’s just that the least cool was making ‘Folie’. So then getting into it again for this record, it was like no time had passed as people but the four of us got on better so we had more to bring to Neal.

Pete: It’s a little bit like when you return to your parents’ house for a holiday break when you’re in college. It’s the same house but now I can drink with my parents. We’d grown up and the first times we worked with Neal, he had to do so much more boy scout leadership, ‘you guys are all gonna be okay, we’re gonna do this activity to earn this badge so you guys don’t fucking murder each other.’ This time, we probably got a different version of Neal that was even more creative, because he had to do less psychotherapy.

He went deep too. Sometimes when you’re in a session with somebody, and they’re like, ‘what are we singing about?’, I’ll just be like, ‘stuff’. He was not cool with ‘stuff’. I would get up and go into the bathroom outside the studio and look in the mirror, and think ‘what is it about? How deep are we gonna go?’ That’s a little bit scarier to ask yourself. If last time Neal was like a boy scout leader, this time, it was more like a Sherpa. He was helping us get to the summit.

The title track of the album also finds you in a very reflective mood, even bringing back lyrics from ‘Love From The Other Side’. How would you describe the meaning behind that title and the song itself?

Pete: The record title has a couple of different meanings, I guess. The biggest one to me is that we basically all are former stars. That’s what we’re made of, those pieces of carbon. It still feels like the world’s gonna blow and it’s all moving too fast and the wrong things are moving too slow. That track in particular looks back at where you sometimes wish things had gone differently. But this is more from the perspective of when you’re watching a space movie, and they’re too far away and they can’t quite make it back. It doesn’t matter what they do and at some point, the astronaut accepts that. But they’re close enough that you can see the look on their face. I feel like there’s moments like that in the title track. I wish some things were different. But, as an adult going through this, you are too far away from the tether, and you’re just floating into space. It is sad and lonely but in some ways, it’s kind of freeing, because there’s other aspects of our world and my life that I love and that I want to keep shaping and changing.

Patrick: I’ll open up Pete’s lyrics and I just start hearing things. It almost feels effortless in a lot of ways. I just read his lyrics and something starts happening in my head. The first line, ‘I’m in a winter mood, dreaming of spring now’, instantly the piano started to form to me. That was a song that I came close to not sending to the band. When I make demos, I’ll usually wait until I have five or six to send to everybody. I didn’t know if anyone was gonna like this. It’s too moody or it’s not very us. But it was pretty unanimous. Everybody liked that one. I knew this had to end the record. It took on a different life in the context of the whole album. Then on the bridge section, I knew it was going to be the lyrics from ‘Love For The Other Side’. It’s got to come back here. It’s the bookends, but I also love lyrically what it does, you know, ‘in another life, you were my babe’, going back to that kind of regret, which feels different in ‘Love For The Other Side’ than it does here. When the whole song came together, it was the statement of the record.

Aside from the album, you have released a few more recent tracks that have opened you up to a whole new audience, most notably the collaboration with Taylor Swift on ‘Electric Touch’.

Pete: Taylor is the only artist that I’ve met or interacted with in recent times who creates exactly the art of who she is, but does it on such a mass level. So that’s breathtaking to watch from the sidelines. The way fans traded friendship bracelets, I don’t know what the beginning of it was, but you felt that everywhere. We felt that, I saw that in the crowd on our tour. I don’t know Taylor well, but I think she’s doing exactly what she wants and creating exactly the art she wants to create. And doing that, on such a level, is really awe-inspiring to watch. It makes you want to make the biggest, weirdest version of our thing and put that out there.

Then there was the cover of Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’, which has had some big chart success for you. That must have taken you slightly by surprise.

Patrick: It’s pretty unexpected. Pete and I were going back and forth about songs we should cover and that was an idea that I had. This is so silly but there was a song a bunch of years ago I had kind of written called ‘Dark Horse' and then there was a Katy Perry song called ‘Dark Horse’ and I was like, ‘damn it’, you know, I missed the boat on that one. So I thought if we don’t do this cover, somebody else is gonna do it. Let’s just get in the studio and just do it. We spent way more time on those lyrics than you would think because we really wanted to get a specific feel. It was really fun and kind of loose, we just came together in Neal’s house and recorded it in a day.

Pete: There’s irreverence to it. I thought the coolest thing was when Billy Joel got asked about it, and he was like, ‘I’m not updating it, that’s fine, go for it.’ I hope if somebody ever chooses to update one of ours, we’d be like that. Let them do their thing, they'll have that version. I thought that was so fucking cool.

It’s also no secret that the sound you became most known for in the mid-2000s is having something of a commercial revival right now. But what is interesting is seeing how bands are building on that sound and changing it.

Patrick: I love when anybody does anything that feels honest to them. Touring with Bring Me The Horizon, it was really cool seeing what’s natural to them. It makes sense. We changed our sound over time but we were always going to do that. It wasn’t a premeditated thing but for the four of us, it would have been impossible to maintain making the same kind of music forever. Whereas you’ll play with some other hands and they live that one sound. You meet up with them for dinner or something and they’re wearing the shirt of the band that sounds just like their band. You go to their house and they’re playing other bands that sound like them because they live in that thing. Whereas with the four of us and bands like Bring Me The Horizon, we change our sounds over time. And there’s nothing wrong with that either. The only thing that’s wrong is if it’s unnatural to you. If you’re AC/DC and all of a sudden power ballads are in and you’re like, ‘Okay, we’ve got to do a power ballad’, that’s when it sucks. But if you’re a thrash metal guy who also likes Celine Dion then yeah, do a power ballad. Emo as a word doesn’t mean anything anymore. But if people want to call it that, if the emo thing is back or having another life again, if that’s what’s natural to an artist, I think the world needs more earnest art. If that’s who you are, then do it.

Pete: It would be super egotistical to think that the wave started with us and My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco has just been circling and cycling back. I remember seeing Nikki Sixx at the airport and he was like, ‘Oh, you’re doing a flaming bass? Mine came from a backpack.’ It keeps coming back but it looks different. Talking to Lil Uzi Vert and Juice WRLD when he was around, it’s so interesting, because it’s so much bigger than just emo or whatever. It’s this whole big pop music thing that’s spinning and churning, and then it moves on., and then it comes back with different aspects and some of the other stuff combined. When you’re a fan of music and art and film, you take different stuff, you add different ingredients, because that’s your taste. Seeing the bands that are up and coming to me, it’s so exciting, because the rules are just different, right? It’s really cool to see artists that lean into the weirdness and lean into a left turn when everyone’s telling you to make a right. That’s so refreshing.

Patrick: It’s really important as an artist gets older to not put too much stock in your own influence. The moment right now that we’re in is bigger than emo and bigger than whatever was happening in 2005. There’s a great line in ‘Downton Abbey’ where someone was asking the Lord about owning this manor and he’s like, ‘well, you don’t really own it, there have been hundreds of owners and you are the custodian of it for a brief time.’ That’s what pop music is like. You just have the ball for a minute and you’re gonna pass it on to somebody else.

We will soon see you in the UK for your arena tour. How do you reflect on your relationship with the fans over here?

Pete: I remember the first time we went to the UK, I wasn’t prepared for how culturally different it was. When we played Reading & Leeds and the summer festivals, it was so different, and so much deeper within the culture. It was a little bit of a shock. The first couple of times we played, I was like, ‘Oh my God, are we gonna die?” because the crowd was so crazy, and there was bottles. Then when we came back, we thought maybe this is a beast to be tamed. Finally, you realize it’s a trading of energy. That made the last couple of festivals we played so fucking awesome. When you really realize that the fans over there are real fans of music. It’s really awesome and pretty beautiful.

Patrick: We’ve played the UK now more than a lot of regions of the states. Pretty early on, I just clicked with it. There were differences, cultural things and things that you didn’t expect. But it never felt that different or foreign to me, just a different flavor…

Pete: This is why me and Patrick work so well together (laughs).

Patrick: Well, listen; I’m a rainy weather guy. There is just things that I get there. I don’t really drink anymore all that much. But I totally will have a beer in the UK, there’s something different about every aspect of it, about the ordering of it, about the flavor of it, everything, it’s like a different vibe. The UK Audience seemed to click with us too. There have been plenty of times where we felt almost more like a UK band than an American one. There have been years where you go there and almost get a more familial reaction than you would at home.

Rock Sound has always been a part of that for us. It was one of the first magazines to care about us and the first magazine to do real interviews. That’s the thing, you would do all these interviews and a lot of them would be like ‘so where did the band’s name come from?” But Rock Sound took us seriously as artists, maybe before some of us did. That actually made us think about who we are and that was a really cool experience. I think in a lot of ways, we wouldn’t be the band we are without the UK, because I think it taught us a lot about what it is to be yourself.

Fall Out Boy’s ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ is out now via Fueled By Ramen.

#fall out boy #fob #patrick stump #pete wentz #rock sound #so much for stardust #so much (for) stardust #rock sound issue 300 #fueled by ramen

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