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4k-starbound-k4 · 3 months ago

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Yandere Headcannons

Ft: Childe, Cyno, Kinich, Sethos, Wriothesley

Trigger warnings: Fem!reader, Stalking, Noncon, Breeding, Blood, Somnophilia, Abuse of power, Bondage, Corruption, Degradation, Male Manipulation, Slave kink, Oral fixation (m!receiving), Prey kink

Childe

FREAK! FREAK FREAK!

He stalks you for hours on end, days even.

Leaving the store in your cute adventurers’ outfit it drives him crazy. Those ribbons around her thighs make his mind spin.

When a sneznayian merchant comes to make a trade deal he’s pissed when the man calls you beautiful and implying you’d make a good wife! He knows you will but you’ll be HIS WIFE!

He thinks of how clueless you are when people start going missing and how members of the fatui don’t bother you anymore.

He especially thinks when you leave your bedroom window open. Far too many nights has he climbed inside and curled up to you.

You only bury your face in your pillow when he buries himself deep inside of you. He’s careful to go slow and stretch you just enough for him to do this every night. His fingers abusing your clit as you writhe in a deep sleep.

Tsarita forbid you moan another man’s name while he takes you. He’d have to spend the next night getting rid of them — and that pissed him off.

So when you have an eventful meeting with the head of Northland Bank, and you're forced to walk home with damp panties from the man’s constant teasing...

He’s quite quick to follow you home after expelling anger on an innocent mililithe guard. He didn’t care that blood stained his clothes or his hands. He wasn’t going to let that bitch banker take you from him. You’re his prize, and he had spent to many nights cumming in his hand to spare you from getting pregnant.

Not tonight.

He knocked. How polite. So, when you open the door to a deranged Childe covered in blood, your first thought is: he must be hurt!

“Childe? A-are you okay? Do you need me to help you?”

His eyes train on yours before walking in, forcing you back into the apartment before he wrapped a hand around your neck with a voice almost deadly, “You stupid slut, I’ve been so good not cumming in you! I haven’t hurt you either. Yet you let that bastard touch you!”

“Huh— I—ack I don’t—“

He walks you to your bedroom before shoving you against the wall, pushing up your night gown, “You’re mine, I’m going to make sure of that. I’ll make sure my sweet girl doesn’t get used by bad men.” He purrs in your ear before biting your shoulder.

Cyno

As the General Mahamatra you’d expect him to never do anything so terrible, especially not to the woman he loves.

Well, um, fuck the police!!

You were simply a student at the Akademyia, working hard on your studies. You never did anything wrong. So when The General enters your house one night, under the pretense of hearing you were studying forbidden knowledge, he took count of how you only slept in a tiny pair shorts and a sheer baby doll dress.

Your teary eyes and breasts made his head fog. He knew you were innocent the minute you threw yourself at his feet, begging for him to realize it was a misunderstanding.

“Please sir, you have to understand! I’m just studying King Destraht and the disappearance of dreams. I promise I didn’t do anything wrong! Please believe me.”

“If that’s the case you should become a dream keeper and stop wasting our time with nonsense.” He gripped your hair, making you look in his eyes as he shamelessly soaked up the sight of your breasts and tears. A sick smirk on his face as he lets you go roughly.

That’s when he started watching you. How you ran around Sumeru city, books to your chest. He wondered how much he could get away with.

It started simple. Like how you would you help him with task. Then he started questioning: would you follow him? Would you change your outfit if he said it wasn’t his standard? He found your innocence a major turn on.

He often called you naive and sweet, always ending it with, “If somebody hurts you tell me and I’ll handle it.��

So you’re walking back to the desert late at night. He stalked you into the ruins of the temple.

He quickly blows out the torch leaving you in the dark, and he takes no time before pinning you to the ground. Your eyes can’t see anything, especially not as well as his.

He pushes up your skirt and pulls off your panties as he kisses your neck. You crying and trying to fight was so cute, before he started to finger you slowly. Your first time being taken in a dirty temple by a man you couldn’t see! Oh, it stung his heart to see you so scared.

But he didn’t stop, making sure to take his time with you. He wanted you so confused as to why your pussy was craving this. He was suddenly training you for his size as he gets rougher. He feels you cum several times before his stamina depletes. He himself cumming inside you three times, pumping it in and out, until your pussy was dripping, a frothy mess from his cum and yours.

He left you there, but waited from afar as you went home crying, cum dripping down your leg as he had stolen your panties.

He waited for you to tell him, and his prayer came a month later when you came to him crying on a rainy night.

“Can I- can I stay with you please? Someone — a month ago — someone they- they forced themselves on me. I was so scared.” You cry.

“Sure thing, come tell me what happened. In detail so I can help you.” He picks you up and makes you straddle him on his couch.

As you tell him the story, he begins getting hard. Grinding you suddenly on his cock, burying his nose in your neck.

“C-Cyno? What are you doing?” You whimper as he kisses your neck.

“Shhh let me make it better.”

“Wait, Cyno.” You shake your head as he pins you to the couch.

It isn’t until he’s inside, and you're crying, does it click that it was him. You sob, but the way your cunt squeezes him, he knows you're bound to forgive him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You'll forgive him because you're just so nice.

Kinich

Kinich is such a good boyfriend.

There’s truly nothing to complain about. He kisses you as much as he can and he loves you unconditionally. His family was terrible and he swore to never be like his father. So, each night he cradles you and tells you how much he loves you.

It was a normal day as you help around the Scions of the Canopy. Before heading home to make sure Kinich has something nice for dinner after the night's war.

When the door opens, his arms quickly find your waist. He reaches under your shirt and grips your breast as he kisses your neck leaving harsh bruises trailing down your throat.

“K-Kinich… are you okay?” Your voice shakes and shivers at his rough touch.

“Hehehe, You’re such a slut. Look at you shivering just from my touch.” A familiar voice made you glance back.

It’s Kinich's body however his hair was yellow and green; his eyes were more like emeralds than topaz. He has horns and a tail.

Ajaw

“I’m so tired of him fucking you like a princess. You’re nothing but a fatui slut. So you’ll be my pretty slave. Right? Wouldn’t want to lose Kinich’s soul forever, would we?” He taunts pushing your legs apart.

“Wait-I.” you whimper as he grinds on your ass.

“Are you denying me?! The great K'uhul Ajaw,” He pulls you away from the table, and throws you to the floor, before pulling you up to your knees pulling out his cock, pushing the sweaty member to your face.

“Go on suck, slut. If you do well at pleasing me, I won’t hurt you.” He laughs pushing his tip past your lips and forcing you to deep throat him.

Deep, spastic thrusts, nothing like your loving boyfriend who let you go at your own pace and was ever so kind. He fucked your throat like it was the last high he’d ever achieve.

When he cums he’s thoughtful enough to force you to swallow half. Pulling out and jerking the last few ribbons all over your face and tongue.

He drops down and kisses you, claws shredding your clothes from your skin as he forces you on your back. Threatening to make you fall in love with his cock so that you’ll beg for his cock instead of Kinich.

He puts your legs over his arms and fucks into you, immediately bottoming out, coaxing embarrassing squishing sounds, making you tear up as he laughs.

“Fatui slut, look at you so wet for the great Ajaw! Stop pretending you’re a good girl, you like being pinned down and fucked like my prey.” He laughs and mocks.

“No-no I’m a good girl. Please, I’m a good girl, Kinich please.” You moan, fucked a little too stupid.

“Stupid slut! My stupid human slut. I’m going to breed you stupid, we have all night til the resurrection, I’m going to break you.” He growls.

Sethos

Lucky girl. That’s what you are a lucky girl.

He watches as you walk around Sumeru. His eyes trained on you like a moth to a flame. He’s so quick to get in your way and help you.

“Hi! I was wondering do you need help?" he asks.

You appear to be from the city a bit turned around in the desert.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to get to the jungle. I’ve been traveling from Natlan and I can’t seem to find the best way to the city?” You sigh.

“Well let me be your guide.” He offers his hand and starts the walk to the City.

He didn’t leave your side. Not when you had to find your mother. Not even when you were heartbroken to find out your mother was no longer in Sumeru. He even started leading you back to Natlan all for no charge.

He sat beside you on the cool morning in the desert sand. The both of you staring at Natlan in the distance.

“Hey? I mean I know you didn’t find your family but if you want you can um… stay with me?” He offers.

“Haha, don’t worry I have people waiting for me back in Natlan.” You smile sweetly at him.

“Oh yeah? Friends?” He scoots closer to you.

“Yeah, and a boyfriend. He was supposed to come with me, but he was busy with work.” You explain as his smile falls.

Cut to an hour later, him pushing your face into the wall of some ruins as he snapps his hips, making you cum and shiver. Your pretty eyes filling with tears as he grits his teeth, pulling out only to pick you up.

His hand firm on your throat as he pulls you back down on his fat cock, “You’re so lucky I saved you. Mmm baby don’t cry, you’re. So. Fucking. Uh-Lucky! I’m going to fucking keep you. Don’t worry I’ll give you a nice big family.”

Wriothesley

OH THE DUKE

When he caught you walking around with the hearth children, his heart almost exploded, gazing attentively as he watched you care for the kids.

He figured he could handle seeing you occasionally, but when he learned from Lyney that you left for Sneznaya often, it pissed him off.

He thought of ways to keep you but each time, he missed mark. He tried talking but it was taking long. He was an awkward guy after all, what would girl like youvwant with him?

Thats when there was an opening. Unwanted Fatui actives opened way to a court case. And you were brought to the fortress for questioning. The sight of you in hand cuffs makes his stomach sink and flip.

He can't help but watch you squirm and glare at him. He kows you would hate him if he tried anything, but you keep making it so hard.

“I’ll let you out, but only if you agree to my terms.” He orders, narrowing his eyes at you.

“What do you want! I told you I haven’t seen anything.”

“Due to your individual crimes, as well as your part in Fatui matters, you’ll stay here under my watch. When you prove to be a model citizen, I’ll let you free.”

“You want to monitor me?!”

He nodds and watches as you shake your head in a silent agreement, expecting to be out in days.

Now, almost a year later he's splitting you on his cock for the 4th time today. His cute little office slut, forced to drip his cum whenever he decides.

He revels in your muffled moans from the muzzle he keeps you confined to. Your hands bound in hand cuffs whilst fucks into you sporadically.

When he’s done he pulls out and takes off the muzzle, “Do you want to go back on the surface?”

You merely shake your head, leading him to bury himself within your cunt again. He allows you to sit on his lap as he does paperwork.

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button-cat · 4 months ago

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"Red Tears"

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AAAJSJDBD I finally finished !! :D it took me so long ACK im sorry to those who voted for Folly on that poll,,,took me too long to give u this eeekndndbd :(( hope u enjoyed it tho :3

btw, this is indeed based off of a post Catjammi made !! Which is this one !

i did not make the writing myself !! i got that from this post, what i did make tho was the art ! :b

hjendbfnf,,,this genuinely took me so long to finish omg 😞

LOOK i don't usually really like asking for reblogs but,,,if u do reblog this i would genuinely REALLYY appreciate it ! u dont have to tho- :b

also mAYBEEE i will make an Enidan angst like this as well,,,maybeee, but it depends since i also have other drawings i wanna make,,,u will see tho in the future :3

that's all !! :D

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

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ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

“Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 months ago

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The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary: How can what's done be undone? Let's watch.

Warnings: Language, PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, Angst,

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: I made y'all wait for this one lol. I hope you enjoy. Yes, there will be more so dont you worry. i really wanna try hammering out more of this and tbp cause i may or may not do another 12 days of ficmas or somethin but we'll see!

~*~

When Task Force 141 finally heads into the basement to free you, the scene before them has more than one of them sick to their stomach.

You're curled up in a ball, whispering to yourself in a language they're not familiar with, and when you finally catch a glimpse of them, it's like gas to a flame.

You're pleading, begging in that same language as you slowly back up, shaking your head at them as tears fall down your cheeks.

The words are desperate, spat with haste and fear, and it hurts Ghost's heart to know that the first time he's hearing your mother tongue is when you're trying to escape him.

"Mouse, it's me. You're safe, please. Please, s'just me," he tries, getting on his knees to seem less imposing.

You only scramble back further, holding your hands out in front of you in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself from danger that doesn't exist.

The blood on your hand catches his attention and he's immediately looking for the source.

"You're hurt. Let me help, please."

You're hiccuping and sobbing, beyond consolation at this point and he's at a loss.

Slowly, he glances over his shoulder to his teammates, the ones who were so quick to follow the traitorous finger that was pointed in your direction.

Soap's eyes are on you, full of sadness and guilt, while Price has his eyes cast down to the floor.

They were just trying to protect their team. Their family.

An idea pops into Simon's head, and he slowly brings his hands to the chain around his neck.

He pulls off the necklace and holds it out in front of you, watching closely as your gaze slowly focuses on the silver pendant.

Your fighting lessens, breathing evens, and then you're reaching out with trembling fingers, gingerly brushing against the warm metal.

A soft word falls from your lips in the same language you were speaking before, and new tears well up in your eyes as you grab the necklace from him and hold it close to your chest.

Slowly, he backs up, motioning for the other men to get out of the way, and then he's swinging the cell door open as wide as it can go and carefully peeling his mask back.

Your wild eyes are focused on his face as he slowly reveals himself to you, and you feel your stomach flip.

"Simon?" You croak, voice scratchy and hoarse.

"S'right, little one. S'me. C'mon out now, you're safe."

You glance over at the other men in the room, your lip wobbling slightly.

"Don't look at them, look at me. Eyes on me, m'right here 'n m'not goin' anywhere."

Reluctantly, your eyes meet his again and he nods encouragingly at you.

Soap can feel his stomach tying in knots with every moment that passes, every word spoken between the two of you.

He never expected this to be the result of his accusations. Of his efforts to be a good soldier.

Slowly, you crawl toward the door, pausing every few seconds as if bracing yourself for an attack.

When you get to the doorway you take a deep breath, holding it as you cross the threshold.

And then a sob bubbles out of your chest and the dam breaks.

You're hiccuping and crying, reaching for Simon desperately, and he all but yanks you into his arms, shushing you quietly.

"I-I didn't do it!" You gasp, bloody hands grabbing handfuls of his sweater.

Simon only nods, rocking you gently in his arms.

"I know, lovie. I know."

"I-I'll be good! J-just don't... don't bring me ba-ack here, please!"

Price's jaw clenches hard, hard enough to almost crack a tooth. His hands are in tight fists by his sides and the lump in his throat is getting harder and harder to swallow.

Simon hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming with your personal information, your history, but in their search for you, they found your sketchbooks. It wasn't hard to piece together your past after that.

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe. You're never going to come back down here, I swear it. Let me take you upstairs."

Your entire frame is trembling in his arms, your bloodshot eyes focused on the men over his shoulder.

Your pupils are wide and your gaze is piercing, sharper than a blade and harder than the walls that seem to be closing in around you.

"Not safe," you whisper, tugging at his sweater then pushing out of his grip and crawling away.

"You're safe, Mouse."

"No, no not safe! Not here! Not with them!" You hiss, glaring at the men behind him.

"I try so hard! But everywhere I go you-you people... you try to hurt me! You lock me in cage! I do nothing wrong!" You're shouting now, voice hoarse and broken, but it makes Soap wince nonetheless.

You look between the men, the soldiers, and push yourself back until you hit the bars of the cell.

"I know your time here hasn't exactly been the easiest, but I swear I won't let anyone else hurt you," Simon tries, holding his hands up in surrender as he scoots closer.

"This... all of this... is because I met you," you finally whisper, the words slicing Simon to his core.

Because you're right.

From the kidnapping to the Corporal in the shower to the accusations. None of it would've happened if you'd never met the man.

"Her thigh" Gaz says softly, eyes focused on the blood darkening the fabric of your pants.

That snaps Ghost out of his feelings and his focus is on you once more. Your safety, your wellbeing.

"Mouse, you're hurt. Let me help you, please."

You glance down at your leg, the still-bleeding wound from yesterday, then cover it with your hand.

"Don't need help."

"You need medical help. Food, water. Please, Mouse." He glances over his shoulder at his teammates. "Leave."

With that one word, the three of them are gone, leaving you alone with your Ghost.

"S'just you n me now, little one. You know I'd never hurt you. Let me help you. Please."

You swallow hard, looking at him for a long silent moment before dropping your gaze back down to your thigh.

"I'll take you upstairs, we can go straight to medical and then-"

"No."

He frowns.

"No?"

"I-I don't want to see... anyone else. Only you."

He nods immediately, inching toward you carefully, as if you're a wild animal that could lash out at any moment.

It's not like he couldn't handle it, couldn't overpower you. But he wouldn't. Even if you did decide to lash out, he'd take it. S'what he deserves, after all. He should've been faster. Should've convinced Price sooner, killed both Jacobs and Matthews in that alley the first night he met you.

But he didn't.

"Can I touch you? I just want to see how bad it is." He motions to your leg.

Slowly, you give him a nod, watching through puffy eyes as he gets close enough to inspect your wound.

His hands are gentle when he touches you, tilting your leg to the side then looking back up at you.

"Let me take you out of here. Please."

"Where?"

"With me. Our quarters."

Ours. Not his. Ours.

Yours.

That's where you belong.

Up in your quarters with your Ghost and far far away from here.

Far from the holding cells that remind you too much of the cages you used to call home.

Far from people who would hurt you, lie to you, betray you.

Ghost's words from what feels like only days ago ring out in your ears, taunting you, humiliating you.

Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you.

The man's own words when he'd cleaned that Corporal off of the bathroom floor.

You've saved my arse.....I owe you.

This is how they repay people?

Simon, upon seeing the distant starry look in your eyes, smooths his bare fingers over your wrist, tugging you gently toward him.

You follow wordlessly, lost in thought, in your mind, and he seems to recognize this.

"M'gonna bring you upstairs. Straight to our quarters, yeah? Nobody's gonna be around, I'll be quick."

He takes your silence as understanding and tugs his balaclava back on, then pulls you up into his arms and heads out of the basement and up the stairs.

A shiver rolls down his spine when he emerges in the hallway.

All of this bears an eery closeness to when he first brought you to base.

Your limp body in his arms, the looks from the poor few stragglers around base, the determination in his eyes and the pit in his stomach.

He hates it.

He hates that his team, the men he's supposed to be closest with, are the ones who've brought him back here.

The ones who've pushed you to this.

But he's not absolved of wrongdoing in this.

No, he's the one who closed the cell door behind you. He's the one who locked you in your deepest traumas.

He turned the key and tucked it in his pocket.

He's just as much to blame as they are.

His self-loathing comes to a momentary pause when he finally pushes open the door to your shared quarters.

He sets you down on the desk, much like he did the day he came back to find Corporal Jacobs dead on the bathroom floor, and grabs his first aid kit.

Expert fingers slip the blade of a knife into the tear in your pants, and then he's cutting the fabric away from your leg and spraying the wound with antiseptic.

His eyes dart up to your face, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort as he begins bandaging your wound.

He finds none.

Your eyes are still distant, as if you're not really here with him, and he feels his heart drop into his stomach.

"Mouse?"

Nothing.

Swallowing hard, he reaches for your face, smoothing his fingers over your cheek and jaw. To anyone looking, he's composed, but you feel his fingers tremble the tiniest bit as they meet your skin.

Your eyes flutter to his, pupils dilating slightly as you focus on him.

"You with me?"

You blink a few times then slowly nod, eyes staying focused on his.

"Yes... here... with Ghost."

His eyes get sad for a moment before he nods, tugging off his balaclava and dropping it onto the ground.

"Simon. You're here with Simon."

You let out a quivering sigh and nod, reaching forward to touch his face.

Red stains his pale cheek and you look to the source, brows pulling together when you see the blood on your fingers.

"What...?" You inspect your hands, the blood covering them, then drop your gaze to the half-covered wound on your thigh.

"Oh."

"Looks worse than it is. Just gotta stay off it a bit," he says softly, getting back to work until your wound is wrapped.

You say nothing, your gaze shooting back to your hands. Specifically, the necklace in your left hand.

"Want me to help put that back on?" He asks after a moment, watching the way tears fill your eyes as you nod.

He takes the necklace from you and carefully reaches around your neck, leaning in close to watch himself clasp it.

You're engulfed in his scent as he invades your personal space, and you can't stop your hands from darting out and grabbing onto his sweater to hold him there, to pull him close.

When the necklace is secure, he pulls back just enough to fix his footing, and then he's yanking you to the edge of the desk and wrapping you in his strong arms.

He hunches over the desk, dropping his head to yours and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head.

You wrap yourself around him, in him, as much as you can, pressing your face to his chest and burrowing into him deep enough to taste his soul.

He pulls you closer still, eyes squeezed shut tightly as he lets himself feel you. Really feel you.

Feel you in your pain, in your trauma, your helplessness. Feel you in your trust, your fear, your love. For him.

He feels you as much as he feels himself now, and all he wants is to take your pain away. Strip you of it even if it kills him.

But he can't.

So instead, he holds you close until you begin to tug away. And then he's taking your hands in his once more.

"I'll run you a shower, yeah?"

You nod wordlessly, eyes cast down as silent tears trek down your cheeks.

He moves swiftly, turning the water on and testing the temperature.

When it's finally warm enough, he returns to you, reaching for you only to freeze when you flinch back.

Refusing to meet his gaze, you slide off of the desk and step around him, cringing away when dusts his fingers over your arm.

The rejection stings, but he knows he has no right to feel hurt.

"I'll stay right here 'till you're done."

You say nothing, only close the bathroom door and turn the lock.

Simon ends up staying there for hours, long enough to realize that you're not coming out of there anytime soon.

With the lights off, he leans his head against the door separating you.

"I'll be right out here, if you wanna come out. Make sure I save a spot on the bed for ya, yeah?"

You say nothing.

He can hear the steady sound of your breath so he knows that -physically, at least- you're okay.

Sighing softly, he slides his hand down the door then turns away and takes a seat on the bed.

He sits there for a few minutes, hoping he'll hear the lock click, that you'll come to bed and the two of you will be able to put everything behind you.

But he's never been a big dreamer.

Instead, he settles down in bed, his eyes locked on the bathroom door, the faint light shining through the cracks.

Simon goes to bed that night with a full bladder and an empty bed.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost and mouse #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon/you #ghost/you #simon riley/you #cod fanfic #cod mwii

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cherry-pop-elf · 10 months ago

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Honey, I’m Home-!

Sirius Black x Mom! Reader

Ever since Sirius was sent to Azkaban, you were the one in charge of raising Harry. Doing your best, and lucky to have Remus to help. Because of that, a certain Rat wasn’t able to avoid any of your gazes. When Harry’s third year came to a end, you were given quite a surprise at the train station

Warnings 18+, P in V, Female Reader, high emotions, hurt comfort, fluffy and heated sex, getting back together, implied breeding kink, taking care of your man with baths food and you, sir this bed is about to be destroyed with how hard he’s going to rail you. Also, implied Wolfstar/ Remus x You/Poly situation deal up in here hehehehe

“Harry-!” You called, with a smile. Always there to pick him up from the station, every single time. As a good parent would. Ever since you found out he had such a risk to end up at the Dursleys, like hell you would let that happen. Made you pamper him a bit, given your good friends lost their lives for him. But like hell he didn’t deserve it.

“Shhh shh-!” Harry was soon hushing his friends, leaving you confused. Hermione and Ron quick to hush up, while Remus would set the last of the bags off the train. Wanting to help out, since there were so many Weasleys to worry about. The way he smiled, you were even more curious. You couldn’t recall the last time he looked so relieved. Was there a change in laws that permitted him to work at Hogwarts?

“Children, settle down. Settle down. Go on and show her the surprise.” He teases them, as he would help Molly with the rest of the Weasleys. He threw you a wink, which had you very confused. Not what did that Marauder have in mind this time?

“Mum…..Can we get a dog?” Harry asked you, as the trio stood next to each other. With cuts and bruises all over, but smiling. Even Ron seemed chipper, despite the fact he was in crutch. The hell did those three get into this time?

“A dog-? Harry….You know why we can’t get a dog.” You sighed, not wanting to have this discussion again. With out Sirius, you just couldn’t. Any dog was to painful of a reminder. Oh how you miss your padfoot. What you would give to see him again.

“Mum, please? He’s got no where else to go. Just look at him-“ Harry pleaded, as the trio stepped aside. The dog now exposed to you. Was so painfully skinny, yet also so furry at the same time. Matted fur, and just looking like a grim. He looked so much like Sirius, but so dead as well. Your heart just couldn’t say no this time.

The defeated sigh had them cheer, as Remus returned. Still giving you this coy smile, that had you furrow your brows. You felt like you were missing something, but you didn’t know what. You just knew that it was time to take everyone home.

With Harry hugging his friends goodbye, while this new dog stuck close to your legs, Remus would catch up quickly with Molly. Explaining something. You swore it was about Scabbers, but the new playmate was keeping your attention. Suddenly jumping on you, and licking your face.

“ACK-! HEEL HEEL-!” You called, as the dog was just to strong. How was something so fragile so durable? Reminded you of Sirius. How even in his dog form he was able to tackle people down. Was just making your heart hurt more, which in a morbid sense made you unable to refuse the dog either.

“Mum, Uncle Remus said you should head home with our new dog. He needs me to stay here and catch Mrs. Weasley up on stuff.” The way he fidgeted with his glasses told you it was a mixture of a lie and some truths. What the hell were these people planning? Was this some scheme to help you move on? Accept Sirius was never coming back? That hurt, but also a point was made. Who can escape Azkaban?

“Alright. But be home before dark.” You warned, as you kissed his forehead. Right on his scar, which made him smile. He made sure to give you a hug, before quickly returning to the red heads. Poor Molly looked ready to faint. Make that she did, and the twins had to catch her. Yeah, like hell you wanted to be involved with that.

“Alright, let’s-“ But the dog was running. Right through the wall, with no hesitation. You were flabbergasted, but had no time to think. Harry’s new dog was running off. No way you wanted his poor heart broken over that. So, you ran after it. Trying to catch up, but it seemed high on life.

“GET BACK HERE-!” You hollered, as the dog was running like it was the last thing it could ever do. You were so focused on trying to catch up to it, you barely noticed where you were running towards. By the time you finally caught up, you were wheezing. Hands on your knees, as the door the dog stopped at opened.

“About time Master and Mistress Black returned.” Kreacher sneered, as the dog hurried inside. Did he say what you think he said? No way. That can’t be Sirius. No way in hell. Looks like him, but he’s in Azkaban. You don’t just escape Azkaban. Sure, the daily prophet said he did. But it was more than likely gossip gone wild. You swore every week they said someone did, only for them to be returned the next day.

“Kreacher, phew, give me a minute here.” You coughed, as you stumbled inside. Left for the building to vanish, in the early morning fog. As if it was never there. Leaving you to be alone, with the elf and dog, as you hung up your coat.

You did your best with making the home more live able. The spare rooms built for whenever Harry wanted friends over for the summers. Along with just a safe haven for friends in need of a stay. You turned what was once a cage, into a proper home. Seemed the dog loved it, as it was quick to run up the stairs. Bolting past the curtained painting, and straight to your bedroom.

“How does it….No. no this can’t be. No way…” It was starting to become harder to deny, as you walked up the stairs. By the time you reached the door, you heard it. That familiar eerie bone cracking, when a animagus was changing forms. No way. It couldn’t be. It can’t-

“Home sweet home-“ That gruff voice sung to you, as you opened the door. There he was. Your husband. Your world. Your everything. Standing there, bending his back, as he sported a tattered Azkaban uniform. Bloody, dirty, hardly clothing at all. Hair a mangled mess, and in desempate need of a bath and shave. He was so sickly thin, the very thin fabric was just a sheet on him. Hardly could process it, when those dark eyes locked on yours. Hair so long now, and body tattered. No matter the design, it was still him. Your Sirius.

“Hardly changed a day…” He dreamily said, with that exhausted smile. He was so drained, but you could still see the pure joy in his eyes. He was home. He was with you, and could be there for Harry now. His best friend Remus was in his life again. He’s not in that damn prison, and he’s in your sight once more.

You didn’t care about the grime, as you practically fell into his arms. Sobbing in joy, as he held you close. Despite his thinner structure, he was able to hold you tightly. As tightly as he could, and sway with you. No need for words. Just gentle tears.

That was why Remus was so coy, and why Harry had you two run off. You two needed time to reconnect. Even so young, Harry could grasp how important this was. Guess you were rasing him right. Seemed also that Kreacher might have missed Sirius as well, because you could hear a bath being run. No one asked for it, but he did it. His own free choice. He missed him, in his own way.

“Darling, I love you so much. I really do, but I am so fucking gross right now. You know I’m being honest when even I’m unable to handle my own stink. I’ve had sex with Moony under a full moon. I’m GROSS gross right now. I will kill for a bath-“ He went on, making you just laugh with your tears. Despite the years in such a horrific prison, he was still himself. Guess he was always a little insane.

You didn’t let him go an inch, as you trailed after him to the bathroom. More than happy to help him wash. Just enjoying the needed intimate moment. Just a wife, washing her husband. By god was he filthy. By the time Harry and Remus returned, he was finally drying off. You had no idea if the bathtub will ever recover. Least he was now in his favorite black robe.

“I’ve got dinner handled, don’t worry-!” Remus called, as Sirius would come down the stairs with you. Unable to let go of his arm, and he hardly complained. He missed your touch all the same, as you two would enter the dinning room. Where Harry sat.

“Guess we better start from the beginning.” Harry murmured. You had already gotten used to your son’s insane adventures, but this one took the cake. He got his god father out of Azkaban, somehow-? Yeah, you were sitting down for this. Mindlessly playing with the exposed chest hair you could grab, as the trio of misfits began to explain.

Even while eating, more like Sirius devouring anything in sight, there was so much to discuss. Was mostly Remus, and Harry, speaking. Given Sirius was more so busy hiding during that time frame. Oh how your heart had broken, and repaired, over and over from it all. Your poor husband. But, he’s back now. He’s back, and he’s never leaving you again.

“I know you are my god father and all, but….Do I call you dad now-?” Harry asked. He’s thirteen, still a child after all. It’s going to be a lot to process, even by Wizard standards. With his meal finished, Sirius did have to think a moment. Dispite the fact Harry knew Sirius from stories, because of you and Remus, he was still a stranger after all.

“Uncle Padfoot will work just fine.” He smiled, as he ruffled Harry’s hair. That made the young teen give an awkward grin, as there was something to work with now. Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. It’s a start, and you couldn’t be happier. Just staring with such love to him, with your head on his shoulder. Taking in that scent, as Remus was unable to stop his smile to.

“Harry, dear, why don’t we go out for a walk. Hm?” Remus asked him, making the boy raise a brow. Why would he want to….Oh. Right. Remus would give a gentle head nudge towards the door, and Harry was quick to get the message. Grabbing his jacket, wand, and chasing after his uncle. Not wanting to say another word, as he really rather not think about his mother’s sex life. Even if it’s with his god father.

The second the door closed, you were yanked from your chair. You gave a squeak, as you were tossed over his shoulder. Just like the old days at school. Whenever he wanted your attention, he simply tossed you over his shoulder. Forcing you to pay attention to him, as he would steal you to a private room for a discussion.

“I’m not letting you out of that bed until the head board breaks-“ He warned, as that had your heart racing. Twelve years is a long time, and there was most certainly some catching up to do. You couldn’t deny that, as you watch the stairs trail behind him. Escorting you to your once shared bedroom. Now together again.

You were plopped right on the bed, and he was on you like the hungry dog he was. Stealing you into his lips, and you couldn’t stop your moaning. It had been so long. You needed him as badly as he needed you. How you were enjoying the new long hair, and tangling your fingers into it. Needing as much skin as you could get from him.

He was more than happy to give it to you. The robe thrown aside, as he was pulling at your clothes. Not giving damn if they tore. Nothing else mattered in this moment. He wanted to fuck his wife, and by god was he going to. Twelve years, in Azkaban. He’s going to get all twelve years of pent up desire out in one night. Will your body recover? Do you even care?

“Sirius-“ You sighed, as he finally got your top off. His face buried into your chest, as he snapped your bra strap off. Tossing it aside, as he drank you up. Just feeling your skin on his, and savoring the long missed flesh against his bearded face. Feeling that freshly softened hair on your chest felt so good. Every single fiber of your existence was on fire. Felt like you might implode.

“Not a day passed by, that I wasn’t thinking of you. You, Remus, Harry, you three were what kept me sane. I knew you three were safe with each other. Waiting for me. I came back. I came back, like I promised.” He sighed, as you felt the tears on your chest. Gentle fingers played with his hair, as to try and calm him down. Comforting him.

“I always knew you would.” You felt so silly thinking Remus would ever try and help you move on. Hypocrite he would have been. Human emotions be human emotions, and they were being carnal right now. Needing to burn and burn and burn.

“Have me again, like you’ve had me before.” You asked him, as you cupped his face. Having that thick beard nuzzle into your palm, as those dark eyes stared up to yours. So much pain in his face, but comfort in his eyes. It’s a long journey to recover, but his soul was still there. His body is damaged, but a body can repair. A mind is harder, and that was the battle. A battle he won.

With a kiss to your palm, he would soon attack your lips. Growling into you, as he pulled away the rest of your clothes. Needing to devour your body. Soon marking away at your neck, your chest, your arms. If there was anything his lips could grasp, and making sure you were marked. As if to remind the world you belonged to him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Not anymore.

“Sirius, how can you still be such a tease?” You whined, as he was grazing his teeth over your thigh. Leaving a bite on your flesh. Letting himself enjoy the flavor of the tingling flesh under his tongue.

“What? I’m an old dog. Old dogs have bad habits.” He teased, before he finally allowed you to get some attention. He really didn’t change, and you were shocked. Never thought being abused could be useful. Only a Black would have such a morbid survival skill.

Before any more depressing thoughts could fill your head, you were able to enjoy the familiar sight. Your husband between your legs, with his cock rubbing against you. The tip of his cock coming into view, whenever he rolled his hips up and down. Rubbing right on your clit, and making you whimper. Sure you’ve played with yourself, but nothing beats his touch.

You both were gripping tightly. Him on your thighs, while you grabbed his shoulders. Needing to feel him in your hands. You both needed it so badly, but both held a near fear. As if afraid that it was all a dream. Luckily, he had the nerve to test that fear. Test it, as he finally pushed in.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this-“ He moaned, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The way he growled, and his body just shivered. Aching, and moaning. Might spill just then, if he didn’t stop. Just savoring the feeling of being back inside of you, and how your eyes watered from pure comfort. To have your husband back.

He would lean down, and kiss away your tears, before he allowed himself to move. Just moaning for you, as his nails dug into your flesh. Marking you more, as you moaned into each others mouths. Needing to drink in every last thing you both could offer. So much to catch up on, and to make up for.

With the tender moment passing, you were soon reminded of the wild man you married. The feeling of your legs being pushed towards your shoulders, as he tried to get into you deeper. With his hands now on your ankles, as he was snapping his hips into yours. Needing to make sure you felt ever inch of him.

You loved it, and missed it, all. The feeling of your arms around his neck, and tangling your fingers into his hair. How he growled into you, and the snarls. Oh how you loved how animalistic he was for you. How he would bark and howl at the beg and call to you. Your big bad wolf.

It was all you missed. Had you in a mixture of tears, and pure desire. How he wanted to fight your tears, and kissed you. As heated as he could, to make up for the years parted. To taste you, and savor you all over again. Just the sounds of your moans, the creaking bed, and the flesh on flesh.

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but you felt him pull your lip. Sinking his teeth into it. A typical sign that he was close. A need to ground himself, to last a little longer. Oh how you missed his little habits. That thrill of pain again sent you over, as you came with him. To be as connected as possible.

You expected to get a moment to savor the after glow, but he kept true to his word. You were soon tossed onto your stomach, with the ass in the air. Of course he wanted doggy. It’s cheesey, but a favorite. Suppose one more round could be mustered.

One more became two, and three, and soon you had to chug a Pepper Up potion to keep up. You lost track of the rounds, before you were laid on your back. Soaked in sweat, and sticky from it all. Sheets hardly on the bed, and you were certain there were cracks in the wood. Hardly could breathe, but it seemed he was satisfied.

“Pretty sure you fucked a dozen kids into me.” You wheezed, as he chuckled. Enjoying a much needed cigarette, but still making sure you were comforted. Having your head in his lap, as he played with your face. Admiring all your features.

“Good.” He snickered, as you swatted at his hand. The both of you able to share a laugh, as there was a soft knock at the door. All Sirius had to do was give a sniff in the air, and he knew who it was. A whistle was given, before he grabbed a pillow for you. So you could cover up, despite the fact Remus has certainly saw you naked many times.

“Feeling better now-? Could have used a silencing charm. Had to tell Harry Kreacher was fixing a wardrobe.” Remus scoffed, with a tray of needed drinks and snacks. He would set it down on the bed side table, before joining on the bed. He deserved to catch up with Sirius to. Fine by you.

With some shifting, you were soon snuggled between the two men. Sirius still playing with your hair, as the two men remained sitting up. Keeping their voices low, so you could drift. Just able to be safe, and warm, again. Snuggling your husband, and comforted by the sound of old memories.

What a wonderful lullaby.

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unriding · 23 days ago

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COCO ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ !!!! YOU — I HAVE NOT ( COHERENTLY ) BEEN ABLE TO RESPOND TO YOUR ASK AND DM YET, LET ALONE SOMETHING AS KIND AS THIS /POS !! um um i have a lot to say, but of course there is no pressure to read it all !!! i have lots of things to say about *you* but let me put those thoughts as a reply to your ask !! this reblog will literally just be me live tagging this as i read it a second time because — the first time i read it, i couldn’t finish it because i started crying so soon !! T T though i am losing my mind trying not to type a book length wall of text about how much i love you and how —

1/2

moevie 𓂃 evie ෆ moze

wee hours in the morn, coddled beneath layers of the storm-sound. the deluge outside, a soft singing hum, thunder creeping through the cracks lining the windowsill. the bedroom is lit dimly only by the warm light of muted fairy lights lining the wall, and a laptop screen. EVIE [sunshine kind, wildly enthused, a loose thread fraying off a sweater hem] sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed, a long-gone-cold mug of tea nestled in her hand. there are faint shadows beneath her eyes, growing ever so slowly by the day. they seep into her chest.

her lover, MOZE [sun-shadowed, crow-brained, diamond-hearted], a light sleeper, especially so without evie in his arms, stirs awake at a particularly grating clap of thunder and the dull clicks from the laptop keyboard coming from the other side of the bed.

moze keeps himself hidden for a moment, silently observing evie. the tired slope of her shoulders and the gentle upwards curl she’s trained to keep on her lips. darkly, solemnly, softly… over and over, night after night, it’s exactly this.

MOZE: [voice heady with sleep, and tender, as it always is when speaking to evie] evie. you’re still awake.

evie startles slightly at the unexpected voice, and turns to face her lover with a smile so quick and practiced that it nearly convinces him of its false genuinity. nearly.

EVIE: [hushed, brows pinched apologetically] sorry, did i wake you? there are still a few things for me to do, but i’ll come join you in bed soon!

MOZE: [tilting his head, studying her] it’s nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. you look tired.

moze takes note of how the smile she shares with him doesn’t reach her eyes as it usually does. with a sigh, he sits up from the bed, sheets rustling. the light from the laptop reveals the bout of concern etched into his features. it’s not so easily visible, coming from a man who has also trained himself to keep his countenance a certain way, but evie recognises it instantaneously. her heart patters and aches.

EVIE: [reassuring, giving him a thumbs up] it’s nothing, really! same old college grind, heh.

she watches, a bit dumbfounded as moze swings his legs over the side of the bed and walks around to her side, taking the mug from her hands and placing it atop the dresser on the other side of the room.

EVIE: [curiously, quirking a brow] oh?

the two share a few blinks, before evie rises from the bed to retrieve her tea. moze is unyielding as he steps in front of her, blocking her path no matter which way she tries to step. she giggles at his behaviour, the sound reaching his heart and coaxing a weak smile unto his own lips.

EVIE: what are you doing? I want my tea, please.

MOZE: [quiet, but firm] what i’m doing is asking you to come to bed.

evie opens her mouth in a gasp, but her protest is swiftly silenced when moze slips the laptop off of her lap and places it out of reach.

MOZE: you’ve been running on empty for weeks.

EVIE: [playfully stern] moze—

MOZE: [gently, a soft command] evie, lie down with me. please.

there’s a look of dreadful love in moze’s eyes, his voice almost a plea. evie hesitates, the innate need to keep moving, keep smiling, keep doing— something, anything, for school, and for the people she holds close. she struggles against the pull of her lover’s words, but ultimately surrenders defeat when he takes her wrist in her hands, grip firm but reassuring. a shadow offering reprieve from the heat of the sun.

and when she wills her smile away into something more vulnerable, sincere… when she allows moze to see the neglected air of exhaustion, of softness, of longing, he can’t help but feel his heart spill open.

MOZE: [tossing the quilt over both his and evie’s bodies, offering her a pillow with the muscle of his arm] i see how hard you try. even when it’s breaking you.

uncharacteristically, she falls silent, unable to find the words to reassure him that she indeed really is fine. but moze sees it all. he feels it all. the silence is deafening. and so he holds her heart like a flower, lest it bloom and collapse, cradling it to his own as it opens up and scoops it out of the dark.

MOZE: [drawing closer, tip of his nose dusting hers in a gentle coax] you can let me take care of you.

EVIE: [weakly, on the verge of tears, a little broken] i’m sorry. i don’t want to be extra weight.

heartbreakingly selfless, and heartachingly concerned about the welfare of others. the perennial woes of a girl who offers up the moon but would never ask for in return. it grinds the gears in moze’s mind, that she gives so freely that it nearly bleeds her dry. he tucks his free arm around her, as if to shield her from not only the world, but her own mind.

MOZE: [resolute] don’t say that.

and he opens his mouth to speak, but promptly purses his lips when he hears a sniffle muffled into the junction of his neck. there will always be other times to remind her of her worth; to not marry it with her success at school, nor the things she can do for others. for now, bit by bit, day by day, he’ll be content being the little crow that picks up the shiny chipped pieces of her heart and fuses it back to its rightful state.

MOZE: [tenderly, voice honeyed, running a soothing palm along her head] rest, evie. close your eyes. even if it’s only for a short while. just…. let the world spin without you for a moment. let me be selfish and keep you to myself.

— happy (very late very belated... so sorry! TT) birthday to my eviepup 🩶 @unriding please think of this as my love letter to you... i know despite all the smiles and laughs you share with us, these months are hard for you... and with school coming up, i know how you tend to wear yourself thin trying to do everything!! so, when that time comes around, i hope you might be able to read this and seek some comfort in it 💌 because you bring all of us A Lot of it < 333 you are cherished by so many! please never forget this ꒰ ˆ ꒵ ˆ꒱ ‧₊˚

#彡 moevie!#彡 cherishing.#彡 coco!#coco …. the way my heart literally almost jumped out of my chest when i saw your ask and mention 🥹 i was like SHE DID NOT ….. SHE DID NOT .#THIS ): this moodboard is so beautiful !!! i always love your eye for them :] they hold so much love .. and this photo at the bottom remind #me of a lot of how i imagine he would cuddle and — *dies* NOO I HAVENT EVEN GOTTEN TO THE WRITING *resurrects* ITS TOO EARLY the heart #photos )): the birds flying together ): the fluffy sheets ): i love you!! THANK YOU ): from the bottom of my heart ))): i am not exaggerati #in the slightest when i say i *will* be rereading this every night before i go to bed — because i think i know how this drabble will end an #it will make me cry /pos!! also i love the way you write these gifts ?? the brackets — and i love how beautiful your writing is ): !! AND A #I SAID I WOULD ONLY LIVETAG THE FIC — I WILL SAVE IT FOR LATER HANSKDKC it is just so lovely to read — i almost jumped as soon as you said #fairy lights because i have a lot of them and ?! ALSO THIS STORM ack it would be lovely to cozy up against his chest and — and .. and like #HUG HIM AND OH MY GOSH THE TEA ????? I LOVE TEA !!!! ITS COLD 😔😔 THAT HAPPENS A LOT AND IT IS SO SAD :’) omg i am stressed here … growing #ever so slowly by the day )): this is like when the to-do list never gets any shorter — but if you so much as take just one break .. it’ll #double in size ^^; so you’re forced to just do your best every day and never see the list actually shorten at all :’) it’s all just a #what seems like a futile attempt at staying on track / to not be swallowed alive whole ^^; also you describing moze as sun shadowed 🥺🥺 i #him staying hidden for a moment is so HIM AGH HE IS SO SWEET ): describing his voice as tender … and the ‘evie.’ HOLDS SO MYCH POWER ACK IM #IM ALMOST DONE !!!! HOLD PLEASDW🥹🥹🥹 THE NEXT LINES BEING ME SAYING JUST THAT AHANDJXJ I LOVE YOU SO MUCH COCO YOU KNOW ME SO WELL :’) though #i would definitely give him a smile LEST HE WORRY ABOUT ME 🫵🏼 GO BACK TO SLEEP IM ALKOST DONE !!!! oh the tilt of his head is so cute i ))):#‘you look tired.’ he is so blunt !! 😭 but it is why i love him so dearly — him and his genuine concern and cute voice and cute face and cute #little tilt of his head and ME RECOGNIZING THE CONCERN ON HIS FACE ))))): the thumbs up made me laugh a bit to myself because that is quite #literally exactly what i would do — HE STOLE MY TEA ???? AGAIN ????? vana mentioned him nabbing my tea before and you too coco !! 😭😭 GIVE ME #MY TEA PLEASE I WOULD LIKE MY COLD TEA 🥹🥹 the blocking my path … you dare do this !!! abusing his humongous frame with muscle and . muscle #‘what im doing is asking you to come to bed’ NO PLEASE 🥹 I AM ALREADY TEARING UP he stole my laptop too 😔 oh moze you adorable crook can i #have it back 😔 him noticing it’s been weeks?): HIM SAYING PLEASE ): I AM DOING THE SHAKY INHALE + BATTING MY EYES SO TEARS DONT FALL NOOOO #a shadow offering reprieve from the heart of the sun ???? oh my gosh coco ??? if you publish a book i will empty out every single bookstore #i will collect all of your books!! i love hearing you speak because i love the way you … say anything at all JENDJJXKX you are beautiful in #every aspect of life !! COCO I AM CRYINF AT ACTUALLY LOOKING TIRED AND HIM ): HIS FEACTION ): THE FALLING SILENT IS VERY SPOT ON BECAUSE I #FEEL MYSELF QUIETING DOWN RIGHT NOW and my throat feels heavy and I KEEP TEARING UP AND COCO MUST YOU BE SO SWEET IM GOING TO GENUINELY SOB #him knowing the silence and knowing everything ): like you coco! how do you know everything! /pos T T HOLDS HER HEART LIKE A FLOWER ): LEST #IT BLOOM AND COLLAPSE ): CRYING AT MY OWN LINES BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL EXACTLY WHAT I WOULD SAY AND — YOU! COCO !!!!! YOU !!!! ))))): /pos

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weasleys-wizard-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Latency Lingering {F.W}

Chapter II - Cold Comfort

Synopsis: after your run-in with Molly earlier in the afternoon, things come to a head when the very man you'd hoped to never see again shows up at your front door, breathless and demanding answers. And thus, your once so peaceful life comes to a sharp and grinding halt, rather likely for good.

When you looked back on it, your final happy evening with Fred was absolutely chock full of the kind of irony that could make a grown man weep.

It was something you'd scarcely considered prior to the birth of your children, the stinging pain of it all dulled by the persistent dread brought on by the promise of an unsupported birth and the overhanging threat of your ex finding out about the secrets you were keeping from him.

But, of course, that dread hadn't lasted forever, and mere weeks after the birth of your son and daughter you had found yourself suddenly consumed by the near hilarity of the tragedy that had befallen your love life, and the ever present sense of irony that hovered over it like a cloud.

After all, it had been on your last joyful evening with your former boyfriend that the then seemingly far off topic of pregnancy had come up, the weight of it manageable for what you had not then known would be the final time.

It had been a warm spring night, and although the weather had been pleasant enough as of late and the promise of your worst school year yet coming to a close never ceased to bring a sigh of relief to your lips, you couldn't help but feel completely miserable.

For weeks at that point, you had been dealing with utterly debilitating nausea (and the less than welcome side effects associated with it) all throughout your days, and though your love always did his best to support you, you could sense his hesitance and worry over your health as the date planned for he and his brother's conjoined escape drew nearer.

Thus, when you'd found yourself in the gryffindor common room pulled tight against his chest, you'd simply melted into him like a scoop of ice cream dropped upon sticky asphalt.

It always made you feel at least a little better, you'd found, to have him near, and you could tell that he was put at ease whenever he felt your familiar weight against him, a subtle reminder that you were alright even in spite of the illness that plagued you.

He would never admit it, and for you, he didn't have to, but Fred Weasley was a worrier, and a skilled one at that.

So, in order to stave off that worry in favor of spending his second to final evening with you at Hogwarts in better spirits than he otherwise might, he'd begun rattling off utterly ridiculous theories regarding the cause of your long term illness, the likes of which ranged from not having received enough kisses as of late, to bearing witness to Draco Malfoy's face each day.

Though, it was your darling's final theory that had truly managed to capture your attention.

"Ugh, don't even joke about that, Fred. It isn't nearly as funny as you think it is."

You'd huffed out with a light groan of semi-exaggerated despair, unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as your then boyfriend had laughed in response, tossing a lithe arm, strengthened in part by his history with quidditch, no doubt, across your shoulders.

"Who’s joking?"

He'd inquired with a feigned sincerity, his hand raising up to splay across his chest as if appalled.

"This is a matter of utmost seriousness, I'm afraid."

At that, you'd scoffed.

Fred Weasley, engage with a matter of "utmost seriousness"? Unlikely.

"It’d most certainly better not be. I am far from ready to have your child, Weasley."

Your boyfriend had hummed in response, the look of gleeful mischief in his eyes hard to miss.

You braced yourself for whatever ridiculous thing he was about to say.

"Really?"

He'd questioned as if truly baffled by your (sensible) admission.

"Well, you certainly could have fooled me the way that you- ack!"

Suddenly realizing exactly where he was going with that statement, you’d all but lunged to cover up his mouth before he could finish, not too keen on the idea of random passerbys hearing of your (admittedly rather active) sex life.

Still, Fred had dodged your "attack" quite easily, grinning wide as you'd fixed him with your most intimidating glare,

"I'm being serious, you git. You'd have to be mad to find something so disastrous amusing enough to joke about."

To that, Fred had simply shrugged, pulling you ever closer with the arm he'd kept wrapped around your now slightly tensed shoulders.

"I think we may just have different interpretations of what is disastrous, my dear."

He had teased, breaths tickling the baby hairs that grew atop your head,

"I have it all planned out, you know."

You'd hummed at that, eyes twinkling with curiosity as you turned your head to better see the man sitting beside you.

"Oh?" You'd asked, "Do tell."

Fred had chuckled, leaning his cheek against the top of your head as he spoke.

"First, we get the bloody hell out of here."

He'd teased, knowing full well just how much closer his impending absence was in comparison to your own.

"And then, as we'll doubtless be wealthy and well adjusted men by the time you graduate in a few weeks time, you'll move in with George and I, doing whatever job you please until I either convince you to work at our wildly successful shop, or you really do fall pregnant. Whichever comes first."

You'd burst out laughing and smacked your boyfriend's shoulder at that comment, noting with joy the way that he shook with his own laughter against you.

"A child before marriage, Mr. Weasley?" You'd teased once your amusement had been quelled enough to allow for speech, "I fear your mother would just about flay you for such a thing.”

The ginger had hummed in subtle confirmation at that, shrugging slightly as he replied,

"Perhaps, but I reckon she'd be utterly besotted with you for it, so you've not much to lose there besides your future husband."

"Future husband and the father of my child in this hypothetical scenario, I'll remind you." You'd teased, "I'd be rather cross with you if you fell to your mother and left me to raise Fred Jr. all by my lonesome."

Your love had grinned wide at that, raising a brow as he considered your words further,

"You think you'd give me a son first then?" He'd asked teasingly, "Because I have a feeling our first will be a girl."

You'd outright laughed again at that admission, baffled and highly amused by your boyfriend's utter certainty in regards to your future.

"Ah, my apologies. Fredette then."

The man sitting beside you scowled as if you'd said the most absurd thing he'd heard in weeks.

"I think not. Frederica perhaps."

To that, you'd groaned, shaking your head back and forth in utter exasperation.

"Absolutely not. If you'd have our daughter named after you then I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more creative than that."

"Oh, not to worry, love."

Fred had quipped back immediately,

"As I said before, I've got it all planned out."

You opened your mouth to question the man further, but already knowing what you were going to ask, your love had spoken up before you could,

"Winnie for a girl, and Augustine for a boy."

You'd all but gawked at that, shocked by the sincerity of the man's tone as you pulled away to see him already smiling down at you.

"Why Winnie?"

You'd asked gently, watching as the gryffindor sitting beside you shrugged his shoulders,

"It's a rather cute name, isn't it? I think it would fit an adorable little ginger girl splendidly. I can already hear you calling it out across our home, chasing her down to rub sunscreen on those doubtlessly freckled cheeks of hers as she fights tooth and nail for her right to roast in the afternoon sun."

Laughing, you nodded semi-exasperatedly at the rather vivid scene presented to you,

"If she's yours I'm sure I'll be doing that and many similar tasks quite often."

You'd paused for a moment to think further before speaking up again,

"And Augustine?"

Fred smiled softly,

"I've always rather liked the name, but have never heard it used much." He began before continuing almost hesitantly, "And it certainly helps that I fell for you in the month of August, as well."

Your eyes had widened slightly at that, brow raising alongside them as you'd urged Fred to elaborate.

"August?" You'd asked, "We didn't even have school in August, Freddie."

The man sitting beside you nodded in confirmation to your words.

"I know. It was summer, I was free of schoolwork and able to terrorize Ronald, Percy, and little Ginny as much as I well pleased, but even so, the only thing I could think about was you. Can you imagine, fourteen year old me desperate to get back to Hogwarts all because I wanted to see a girl? It was not an easy realization to come to terms with, I'm afraid."

You'd scoffed at that, hand reaching over to squeeze his own where it draped across your shoulder in spite of your seemingly nonplussed reaction as you considered the proposed names further.

"Winnie and Augustine." You had murmured aloud, tasting the two names together on your tongue for the very first time. "I quite like those."

And just as he'd begun to fiddle with the promise ring adorning the hand that rested gently atop his own, your love hummed softly in confirmation.

"I knew you would."

And then, smiling as you'd closed your eyes contentedly and leaned against him, you couldn't help but let out a pleased sigh.

In spite of all the stress you'd endured as of late with Umbridge's rule, your sudden and unexplained bouts of illness, and Fred and George's impending absence, the future, it seemed, was bright.

Until, that is, the very next day, when you'd learned alone in the girls bathroom that some aspects of it would be coming far sooner than you ever could have planned for or even imagined.

That night, just over twenty-four hours after your hopeful conversation, you had broken things off with Fred Weasley, and you hadn't seen him since.

That is, of course, until today.

Because even in spite of your insistence that she not tell him anything earlier that afternoon when she'd caught you on your way out of that accursed doctor's office, it seemed that Molly Weasley had paid your pleas little mind, for it was only a few hours after you'd arrived home that Fred had turned up at your front door.

And truthfully, you knew that it was partially your own fault that he had found you with such ease.

After all, you still lived in that same flat your aunt had rented out to you during your summers away from Hogwarts, the one she used to supplement her income as she persisted with her freelance photography abroad.

Your mother, her sister, hadn't spoken to her (at least to your knowledge), since she'd refused to kick you out of it after your graduation, but the woman in question had never seemed to mind.

In truth, you hadn't yet found it within yourself to miss your children's maternal grandmother much either.

But still, even in spite of your aunt's kindness, you couldn't help but wish you'd had the forethought to move elsewhere as you stared helplessly at the man standing on the other side of your door.

He looked positively frazzled, and utterly determined.

"Fred I-"

"Tell me that she's mistaken."

The young wizard half demanded, half plead, his hand coming to rest upon the inner lip of the door as if afraid you might close it on him at any moment.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t considered it.

You swallowed thickly at his words, opening your mouth in search of a reply only to have him cut you off once more before you could even begin.

"Or better yet, tell me that she's lying and that this is all some utterly ridiculous ploy to get me to see you again after all these years. Tell me anything Y/n, just not that she's right."

Unsure of what to say, you cast your gaze downward toward the floor and away from Fred's prying eyes, and immediately he drew in a sharp breath and cursed above you, bringing his unoccupied hand to rub across his face.

The silence that descended upon the two of you afterward was thick and cloying, the absence of all sound so harsh that it nearly made you shudder, an urge you only held back because you refused to come across as weak to the man standing before you.

Which, as things went, happened to be rather difficult considering how absolutely terrified you felt.

"Truly?"

He breathed out after several long seconds of nothing,

"All this time, and you were just never going to tell me?"

Slowly, and with a shameful certainty, you nodded at that, hands clasping in front of you as your fingers worried away at the spot on your finger where your promise ring had one sat.

Old habits died hard, you supposed.

"Fred, I..."

You trailed off for a few moments, desperately seeking out the right words, only to give up with a sigh when you realized they would likely never come.

There were no "right words" for you to say in this situation. There was only the truth, as ugly as it may have been.

"I didn't know what else to do."

At that, a short burst of harsh and humorless laughter that was jarringly similar to that which he'd let out on your final night together in the astronomy tower pushed passed your ex's lips, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but flinch back from it, a movement which he either didn't notice, or chose to ignore entirely.

"You didn't know what else to do besides dump me with no real explanation and hide my own children from me for nearly three years of their lives?"

He scoffed, looking down at you as if in utter disbelief,

"Does that seem like the most rational decision to you, Y/n?"

In response to his mocking tone and blatant disregard for your reasoning, you looked up to meet your former lover's eyes once more, glaring daggers into them as a hand came to rest upon your hip.

"Was it a rational decision for you to set off fireworks in a school, Fred? Or for you to drop out mere months before graduation?"

You snapped, taking a step closer to the man as you pointed an accusatory finger to his chest, the space between you decreased enough now that you could smell the familiar cologne he'd always worn, the very same one you'd described while smelling amortentia all those years ago in Snape's classroom.

Fred glared right back at you after a moment of what appeared to be surprise at your sudden displeasure, but before he could even think to open his mouth again, you continued.

"How about when you decided to fight in a war that from what I heard, very nearly killed you, huh? And let's not forget to mention this very moment here, where you've turned up to my aunt’s flat in search of your ex girlfriend while looking half a mad man instead of thinking to send an owl first to at least make sure that I even still live here. How rational does that seem, Fred?!"

Your voice was raised now, having been increasing in volume since you'd begun the second half of your rant, and while he had never been one for shouting, it seemed that Fred Weasley was far too concerned with not being outdone to care today.

"You're saying I should have sent an Owl?!" He asked incredulously, the laughter that left him just as barren of humor as the bout before it.

"Oh that's rich coming from you, love, because you could stand to learn a thing or two about sending important owls, it would seem!"

You scoffed, arms crossing atop your chest as you opened your mouth to reply once more, a no doubt biting remark already primed and ready to go at your lips.

As unfair as it was, after all, there was some long buried part of you that felt angry at the man standing before you.

Because even if it was entirely your own choice, you had endured nearly nine long months of pregnancy completely alone, before laboring just under two weeks early all by yourself, which of course had preceded you then raising both of your children all by your lonesome, exhausted and afraid of whatever it was that would come next, because as you'd soon discovered alongside the existence of your children, there was always something else looming on the horizon.

And it just wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair how desperately you yearned for the touch of a man now supposedly unknown to you as you laid in bed each night,

It wasn't fair how curiously your little ones asked about other children's fathers,

It wasn't fair how obviously and agonizingly they took after their dad,

It wasn't fair how you saw him briefly each time you looked into their beautiful little eyes or brushed your fingers through their soft ginger hair,

None of it was fair, not in the slightest.

But just as you were about to open your mouth and express these long buried and ignored feelings of yours, a small and painfully poorly timed voice called out from behind you.

And when you shifted your gaze to see your ex's face more clearly, all you saw expressed upon it was a deep and sorrowful dread as he stared just past you at the once empty door frame, which you hoped against all hope and sense was still bereft of life.

Of course though, you could already tell from Fred's face alone that this was not the case.

"Mummy?"

The young voice that you immediately identified as that of your son questioned curiously from behind you, and finally you swallowed your hopes and fears and turned around to face the music for what felt like the one millionth time in that day alone.

And of course, standing there, backlit by the slightly yellow glow of the bulbs from the kitchen that sat just inside, was your boy, your darling Augustine, looking the very picture of the man that stood just a few feet away from him.

His hair was an absolute mess from his clearly restless sleep, and he was rubbing at his eyes in a manner that made it nearly impossible to make out their color, but even so that inarguable likeness was there.

He looked every bit the quintessential Weasley child, and it made your heart flutter in your chest when you noticed the way that your former love seemed to take this in, as if it were a knife to the gut.

Clearing your throat to rid it of the sudden thickness that you found there, you were quick to reply.

"Yes, love?"

You murmured softly, reaching out gently to help guide the young boy to you when he began to fumble all but blindly in your direction, eyes still blurred by sleep.

"Can sissy and me sleep with you? We've had another bad dream."

At that, you frowned immediately, maternal instincts quick to take over in spite of your stressful situation.

For nearly a year now your twins had suffered from nightmares, often on the same nights, though thankfully from what they had shared with you, they at least seemed to be about differing things.

That said, it did cause you rather significant grief as a parent to see your children suffering so with something you could not even hope to control or change.

It made you feel weak, helpless, and above all else, afraid of your own potential errors or failures in raising your little one's to have something like this plague them for so very long.

Several nights a week you would awaken to the sounds of pattering feet on hardwood, petrified voices crying out your name from down the hall, or little fingers poking at your body to rouse you as one or both of your children sought out the comforts of their mother.

Most often during times like this though, you'd found that it was Winnie who came to get you, her brother (younger by a whopping nine minutes and twenty-three seconds), typically favoring bundling up beneath his covers until you went off to gather him up in your arms and carry him to your bedroom before cocooning him alongside his sister within the blanket that smelled soothingly of you and the detergent you used on it once weekly.

So, naturally, it worried you to note that it was August who sought you out on this particular evening.

Sympathetically, you cooed to the boy standing before you, reaching down to pick him up with ease before setting him familiarly upon your hip with a skill that was rather jarring to the nearly forgotten man standing with his back to the wall just opposite you and your son.

"Of course you can sleep with me, darling."

You assured him gently, rubbing his back with your still free hand as you allowed your voice to take on that soft and soothing tone that all mothers seemed to master at one point or another,

"Does sissy need me to go and get her tonight?"

Your son had just begun quietly shaking his head when the sound of small feet on tiled floors caught your attention, and you immediately turned to better see the source of it as your daughter came into view.

There, backlit in the very same way that her brother had been, stood your ever so brave and dreadfully witty Winnifred, whose hair was still up in messy pigtails from earlier that day due to her refusal to allow you to take them out at bedtime.

You often claimed that she didn't get such stubbornness from you whilst you were teasing her, but you knew deep down that such a statement was far from true.

She was, after all, just as much your daughter as she was Fred's, and it seemed that the apple did not fall far from the tree in that particular regard.

"There's my sweet girl,"

You began, squatting down to offer your unoccupied arm to her,

"Would you like a cuddle as well, then?"

And immediately, the elder of your two children all but launched herself into your arms, muttering softly of her nightmare and the fading details she recalled of it as she buried her face into your neck, relaxing herself with any and all familiaritites you carried about your person.

You shushed her gently, swaying your body back and forth with a practiced rhythm until all of the sudden, Fred's voice snapped you straight out of your reverie.

"They truly are real then."

He said softly, as if in utter disbelief of the sight unfolding before him.

Unsure of what to say, you simply nodded, avoiding his gaze to the very best of your ability as you prayed he didn't notice the quiver in your bottom lip upon hearing the hurt and confusion in his voice.

"I-"

Seeming to choke a bit on his words, Fred faltered for a moment, floundering in place until finally, he simply shook his head and sighed.

"I should go."

Your eyes widened at that, and your head quickly snapped up as the man standing before you pulled a small pen and notepad set from his back pocket, the front of it clearly stained with ink and worn from use.

No doubt for his ideas, then, you realized idly before putting a stop to any familiarity you felt for the individual standing before you.

He was a different man now, a totally new person.

You had no right thinking of him as if you still knew who he was today.

Scribbling out a few lines of text in writing that you knew all too well, the ginger sighed before tearing the piece of paper he had been using out and handing it to you.

"That there is the address to mine and George's shop and our apartment just above it. If you don't find me there, I'm likely at Mum's or somewhere just down the road. Have someone let me know if you ever stop by while I'm not in."

Shocked, you nodded absently before finally finding it within yourself to speak up once more.

"So I'm guessing you'll be wanting me to come to you about all of this sooner rather than later?"

Shrugging in a manner that you would almost describe as hopeless, Fred looked to you briefly before quickly glancing away, as if pained by the mere sight of you alone.

"I would have wanted you to come to me about our children years ago, but better late than never I suppose."

Opening your mouth as if to argue with his statement, you found that nothing worth saying would come.

Once again, it seemed he was rather justified in how he felt.

Once again, it seemed you were the bad guy for doing what you had felt was right all those years ago.

What a mess.

Seeing your apparent speechlessness, Fred simply nodded in farewell before apparating out of your apartment complex without another word, leaving you to wonder how today could have begun so typically and ended in such a life altering manner.

Such was life with twins, you supposed.

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opal-owl-flight · 5 months ago

Text

I didnt expect to see Octavio in the Grandfest...and neither did 3, for that matter.

In my interp of the lore, Inkadia is aware of who he is. 3 and the platoon have been fighting for years with the Inkadian powers that be to recognize Octaria as a legitimate nation, for it to be held in equal regard.

That day finally came on the Grandfest. Or at least, the beginnings of it, anyway.

More on the two's convo below!

"Hm! |...Sir Octavio! Im...surprised to see you here.|"

"What. You think Octaria doesnt deserve to celebrate the biggest event in the continent alongside you squits?"

"|No! No! Im...|" they chuckle, a smile breaking across ther face. "|...glad to see that you made it!

But I dont remember arranging a pass for you...|"

"Aah. Well. Your old man pulled some strings. That, and the Inkadian and Splatlandian powers that be invited me themself."

Now 3s surprised. "|...Really?|"

"Mhm. I brought the dome-dwellers up here with me. Look around! Didnt you notice them in your matches?"

Are they dreaming?

They never noticed them at all. It wasnt even like there was much of a difference. For months there have been an increase of migrators and visitors. Allowed to turf. Allowed to stay. Allowed to...

Live in the sunshine.

They stagger, which made the Octarian king hold out a tentacle to steady them. "You alright, bucko?"

3 nods. "|A-a little overwhelmed, thats all.

All those patrols. All those deserters I helped to assimilate. All that struggle they had to go through to escape Octaria-

And now, its just...so...|"

"Easy?"

3 nods again, silently.

"Mmmm. I'll admit though, not everyone is keen on just letting people explore. Not everyone was keen on coming up here for this festival, either.

...too much, has happened for them to trust Inkadia again."

3 hangs their head low. He held their chin and made them look up again.

"...But you. You and your platoon of hooligans. Youve been changing that. You are Inkadians that went the extra mile in understanding us. Listening to us, respecting our decisions. Allowing us to rule our nation as we wished.

It means...a lot. More than you know.

To the point where even those who dont trust Inkadia are at least respecting it from a distance now."

The conversation is cut short by a couple of young Inkfish kids.

"Oaah...its the Octarian king!"

"Hes REAL!!!"

"Of course Im real, squirts! Who'dya think leads all the Octarians?"

"Yeah!!" squeaks another kid, who waddles closer. "Our king is so nice! He brought us up here to play!!"

"Woaah, really?"

"Mhm." He grunts. "Everyone deserves the sunshine."

The kids eyes all shine. Theyve had ex-Octarian friends who spoke much kinder words about the king. It was easy for them to accept the fact that hes just there, grinding wasabi peacefully. Talking to the Inkfish who wants merch. Having generally gruff but...daresay, gentle vibes.

Octavio grunts out a chuckle. "Are you enjoying the surface, little one?"

"VERY!! I made new friends!! The sun feels so warm, ah!! The music! The music!! Oh, so wonderful!!!"

3 smiles again...

"Oooh... wait, I can finally ask!!" squeaks one of the kids. "Mister king, sir! Did you really fight someone called Agent 3???"

3s smile becomes a nervous one. Octavio picks that up immediately.

"Why yes. Little hooligan, that one. Ack! Gave me a headache like nothing else!"

"Did they convince you? To be good now?"

"Mh. Its a little more complicated than that, kiddoes. But I..." he sighs. "...I guess, they did."

"Wooow!!"

"So cool...I wish I could meet them!!"

"Well..."

Octavio sees, from the corner of his eye, 3 making the subtlest movement of shaking their head.

"Its said...that theyre one of the top players in the leagues. If you look hard enough, youll find em."

The Octarian kid looks straight at 3, knowingly. The two other kids notice -- and look at the golden badge they hung around their neck.

"Oh! Oh! Youre a top player, right?"

"Do you think youve met them?"

Octavio is doing EVERYTHING he can to not laugh.

"|...Im not sure. Im not exactly sure what to look for.|"

"Ill help your search, all of you." Octavio grunts again. "What exactly to look for."

3 looks at him, eyebrow raised.

"Theyre ruthless on the field. Whether it be a real fight, or in the leagues. They think on their feet, move faster than most eyes can register.

But underneath that cold efficiency...

Is one of the gentlest, most understanding squids I know."

3s expression changed from nervous to...comfort? Theyre not sure what it is, but its warm.

"Watch for a player who goes out of their way to be nice to kids and beginners. One who's a good sport in the cutthroat top leagues. One who's willing to share their battle tech to anyone, something that most top players keep under wraps.

One who's motivated to help you become the best version of yourself.

No matter how long it takes."

Octavio sees 3s shoulders relax a bit. He smiles.

"Yeah, I may have fought them a lot, back in the day. But now, Id really rather think of them as a friend."

The kids start bickering about which player it could be. The Octarian kid already knew. Shes seen them before, after all. She points at them now.

"Hehee! Maybe you should try looking in a mirror, miss. That sounds a lot like you!"

The other kids stop bickering and take a closer look.

"Huh?? Them? Hmmm...now that you say it-"

"Shes right!!! Its right in front of us!! FOR3VRFRSH! Agent 3!!!"

Octavio grinds one of his wasabi sticks a little harsher on the table to get their attention. "Kids, kids! Remember what the legend says!"

That confirms it!! They shush each other, but are still sqealing quietly. They look up at 3 again, the new info putting the top player in a different light. They threw a glance at Octavio before squatting down to their level.

"Yes," they rasp. "Me and the king...were more friends now...than enemies. Time...passes. People...change.

Remember that, okay?"

"Yes miss! We'll remember!!"

They wink. "Good...now...Stay Forever Fresh!"

Octavio looks on, leaning slightly to whisper to the floating squid jerky next to him.

"You did good with this one, Cuttlefish."

He says nothing, like during this whole conversation. One thought was in his head.

He didnt do that. That...was all 3. They were better than he ever was. He only wished...

He didnt push them as hard as he did.

----------

HOO BOY THATS A DOOZY OF A READ. I didnt PLAN for the beginnings of the acceptance of Octaria to come this early but Nintendo gave me material!! A lot of this is still semi-rough so forgive me if the pacing is whack. I just had to make and write something!!

#splatoon #splatoon fanart #agent 3 #captain 3 #dj octavio #grand festival #grand fest splatoon #opal owl’s nest

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tropicalcryptid · 1 year ago

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Ok so She-Ra pulled such a great hat trick with Hordak's characterization, and I LOVE it

One of my favorite things about 2018 She-Ra is Hordak's story and development (and Entrapdak cough but that's not the point of this particular post), and the cleverest thing is that so much of it is actually being set up and told to us in seasons 1 and 2 before we even realize that that's what's happening.

When we first see Hordak in the show, he's giving "generic evil overlord" vibes. Garden-variety baddie. Maybe a little more reasonable than some and clearly capable of long-term thinking, but that just serves to make him intimidating. Everything about him--the way he runs his empire, his armor, his color scheme, his minion, his Villainous Eye Makeup(TM), even his name--are all projecting to the audience "yup, Acme Bad Guy here. Move right along."

But then, backstory. And everything snaps into focus. Not only is it one of the first big oh SHIT moments of the show, where we suddenly zoom out and realize that there is SO much more going on than we realized--it's also the start of the audience seeing Hordak as a character rather than an archetype. Suddenly we realize that he's not conquering Etheria because he wants power, or hates happiness and sparkles, or whatever--he's doing it out of a desperate attempt to prove his worth to his brother/creator/god. This moment where Hordak lets Entrapta in is also the moment the show lets us in on what makes our favorite spacebat tick.

On top of that, we've also seen him bonding with Entrapta and opening up to this person that he respects and trusts...probably the only person he's ever respected or trusted apart from Prime. And she's Etherian--someone of a lower species, someone he's supposed to subjugate, someone who he has been raised and trained and programmed and mind-controlled into believing is below him in every way.

But instead she's brilliant and creative and mesmerizing. She's not afraid of him, and she's fascinated with his work. For the first time since being abandoned by Prime, Hordak finally has someone that he can talk to, who is on his level and both understands and cares about the science! (because he is a giant nerd). She's kind to him, a mere defect. And it just sends his whole worldview into a spin, and that's all before--

Bam, mans is a goner. Entrapta's "Imperfections are beautiful" comment punches right through all the toxic bs that Hordak has been steeped in his entire life. You can see on his face here--I think it's the moment Hordak fell in love with Entrapta, but this is also the face of a spacebat reevaluating his entire worldview. If Entrapta, who is amazing, believes something different from Prime...what does that mean? If Entrapta, who is brilliant, believes that he is worth something, and that she herself is a failure...

Well. We know what happens after that, and how Hordak begins to doubt, and eventually fights back against Prime (and remembers his love for Entrapta after TWO mind wipes help my heart ack). But we also get to see what life in the Galactic Horde looks like: the only life Hordak ever knew before coming to Etheria.

It's not nice.

It's really not nice.

Prime operates in a very specific way, and we learn a lot about it in season 5. Prime expects complete obedience, devotion and worship from his clones. He allows no individuality from his subjects, not even a name. Failure or deviations are punished, mind-wiped, or destroyed. We even learn from Wrong Hordak that facial expressions are considered a privilege reserved for Prime (apart from, presumably, expressions of rapture caused by being around Prime).

And once we learn all of this, suddenly thinking about season 1 Hordak becomes very interesting indeed. The time we spend with the Galactic Horde and Prime throws absolutely everything that we know about Hordak into a whole new context. Now all those traits that made him a generic villain are actually hugely effective characterization! And what that characterization is telling us is that Hordak had already moved much farther away from Prime than we (or, probably, he) had realized, even long before he met Entrapta.

Horde Prime does not allow his underlings to have names, personalities, or any differences of appearance. Not only does Hordak allow this among his own troops, he chose a name for himself as well! Season 5 tells us that his very name is an act of blasphemy against his god. And yet Hordak took one for himself, and that name is part of the core identity he is able to hold on to when rebelling against Prime.

Horde Prime cast Hordak out when he showed signs of physical imperfections. Hordak not only keeps Imp (who is by all appearances a failed clone or similar experiment) around, he treats Imp more gently than we see him treat anybody or anything before Entrapta. Imp is not simply "generic evil guy's minion," he is proof of Hordak's capacity for compassion, and evidence that Hordak cannot bring himself to cast aside "defects" as easily as Prime. Considering where Hordak came from, Imp's existence is a huge, flashing neon sign telling the audience this guy here is better than the hell that molded him, and we don't even realize it until 4 seasons after it's been shown to us!

Very cool, ND.

There's more, though. Hordak's red and black color scheme? His dark eye makeup and lipstick? Very Evil Overlord chic. But nope! Actually these are actually expressions of individuality on a level that Hordak knows would be abhorrent to Prime!

Reading between the lines, I see this as Hordak desperately trying to reconcile two diametrically opposed beliefs in his head: (1) devotion to Prime, whose approval he desperately craves, and (2) maintaining some degree of unique personhood, of Hordak, from which to draw strength. Because a failed, defective clone cannot survive on a hostile world, cut off from the hivemind and from Prime's light. A failed clone cannot create an empire to offer Prime as tribute, nor build a spacetime portal from scraps and memory to call Prime back. A failed clone cannot create cybernetic armor to keep his hurting, weakened body alive; to force himself to keep going no matter what, to fight through the pain and the doubt by sheer force of will.

But maybe Hordak can.

And so there it is. Hordak had plenty of time to gain and explore his individuality while separated from Prime, but I think the reason he did it so effectively (while still deluding himself that Prime would forgive him for these little sins, if only Hordak could prove his value) is because he had to.

Wrong Hordak gained his individuality surrounded by kind, quirky people who took care of him; Hordak was ripped from the hivemind by Prime himself and had to fight for his survival against all odds. And that produced a dangerous and damaging foe for Etheria. But it also produced the one clone with the strength of will to defy Prime himself.

This is long and rambling, but ultimately my point is that 1) I love Hordak, and 2) I love love love love that the show was so clever about his characterization. We learn so much about him and how much progress he's already made in breaking from his psycho abusive cult upbringing, and we don't even recognize it until the show wants us to. Hordak had come so far, all on his own, before he met Entrapta. She just helped push him over the edge and finally realize (at least consciously) that Prime's worldview might not be the correct one.

Idk, I just don't know if I've ever seen all the trappings of Basic 80's Villain(TM) so successfully subverted, where looking back 4 seasons later is actually a smack in the face with the "effective character building" stick. Amazing.

#spop #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #hordak #entrapdak #entrapta #horde prime #Spacebat #Deep character analysis #Gotta love clever writing #Seriously I could go on about this show for ages #I just love the characterization for everyone but especially Hordak #Best spacebat #I mean I love Wrong Hordak too but you know

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natalievoncatte · 3 months ago

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“What’s wrong with me, Alex?” Kara asked, swinging her feet in a childlike, nervous way as she sat on the exam table.

Kara watched her sister putter around the room. She’d activated the red lamps and taken blood samples, and the tubes were currently spinning away in centrifuges awaiting the various tests she would run. She’s listened to Kara’s lungs and checked her pulse and waved instruments about and taken her blood pressure.

Everything about her was well within Kryptonian norms. Her pulse was running around a hundred and ten at rest, which would be alarming for a human but was a tad slow for her, and her body temperature was at a perfect one-oh-one, again just right for the last daughter of Krypton. There was no issue with her processing of sunlight and no signs of radiation exposure, which had been her fear.

Specifically Kryptonite of the red variety.

Kara had been having intrusive thoughts. They’d started here and there months ago but she’d ignored them, writing them off as some odd byproduct of fatigue or stress.

“You can go for now, kiddo,” said Alex. “I’ll let you know when the results come in.”

Alex looked more bemused than anything- probably because Kara showed no signs of actual sickness and had been cagey and indirect about her symptoms. There was a reason for that.

It became unbearable for her yesterday when Lena dropped by her office. Lena had been dressed in Kara’s favorite work ensemble, a green sweater that bared deep cleavage, a pencil skirt, and sheer silk stockings. She’d had her hair up in a meticulous bun and wore a rich plum red lipstick and smoky eyes, looking more sexpot than CEO.

Kara had barely been able to keep a straight face and make conversation. The mere presence of the other woman in the room made her heart pound and created an unbearable tension in her belly and between her thighs. Her eyes kept falling back to the pale inviting column of her throat or the lush inner curves of her breasts. Kara couldn’t stop imagining a bead of sweat rolling down between them. She couldn’t stop thinking about pressing her tongue to the flesh there and catching it, tasting the pearly bead and following its slick trail up to Lena’s throat while her chest heaved against her.

That was a problem, because those were not normal Kara thoughts. Those were not normal Kryptonian thoughts. Kryptonians did not think about those things, especially with members of the same gender. It had come with that same aching feeling between her legs that Kara had been fighting since she arrived on Earth and was dealing with now, just thinking about thinking about Lena.

Worse, Lena would be there tonight at movie night. It was an all girl’s night so it would just be Alex and Nia watching movies with them; Brainy was busy and Kelly was out of town for an academic conference and they were really just keeping Alex company.

Kara’s mind was a train wreck. She couldn’t stop thinking about Casual Lena. When she dressed down in her big sweaters and leggings and let down her hair in soft waves, she was so tiny and cute and small and Kara just wanted to eat her all up and… feel her from the inside, listen to her cries of ecstasy as Kara got creative and *relieved that fucking pressure between her legs*.

Ack! Stop it!

She had to be sick, or infected with a transdimensional parasite, or under a magic spell, or microdosed with red Kryptonite because KRYPTONIANS DID NOT HAVE THESE THOUGHTS.

So, she went for a fly to clear her head.

She ended up going hypersonic and landing at the Fortress, where she picked up the fifty thousand ton key and let herself in. Thankfully, Clark wasn’t there, so she had the vast place to herself.

The Archive here had a simpler interface, she wouldn’t have to ask a holographic version of her mother why she wanted to know what Lena’s sweat tasted like and pin her down on the sofa in her office and do things to her.

“Greetings, Kara Zor-El. How may I assist you?”

Kara looked at the hovering holographic sphere and described her symptoms, holding nothing back. It hovered there all hovery for a moment.

“What you describe sounds similar in principle to afflictions that affected ancient Kryptonians, especially under a yellow sun. Our ancestors often embraced perverse and hedonistic lusts before embracing the perfection of logic and self-discipline. However, you cannot be experiencing these unnatural and incorrect attractions, as they had been bred out of our people by the breeding program. Attraction to members of the same sex and metamorphic reproductive capability have been deemed eradicated by the Science Guild.”

“Metamorphic capabilities?!”

“Some of the ancestors possessed the ability to adapt physically to their preferred partner with the aid of yellow solar wavelengths. This is no longer possible.”

Kara chewed her lip.

The words rang in her skull. Unnatural. Illogical. It made her sound like some… like some abomination, a monster from ancient times. A tightness formed in her chest tears welled in her eyes. Was she like this? Was she broken? An aberration? Some crude vile thing with the instincts and lusts of a Daxamite? Was she broken?

She left the Fortress in a tearful rush and again she flew, too fast. Her phone started going off in the hidden pocket on the flank of her suit and she lighted on a building in Seattle to answer.

“Kara, where the hell are you?” said Alex. “Lena showed up at your place and you weren’t there and we’ve both been panic calling you.”

“I’m sorry, I was at the Fortress, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Her voice was high and pained.

Alex’s reply was soft. “Come home, Kara. We need to talk.”

Kara nodded to no one. “I’m on my way.”

She made the trip back a bit slower, honing in on Alex’s heartbeat to find her at the DEO, still in the lab. When she walked in, Alex gestured to the exam table and Kara sat down.

“What is it?” Kara almost pleaded. “Alex, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Kara, listen to me,” said Alex, taking both of Kara’s hands. “Look at me, okay.”

Kara looked at her.

“There is nothing wrong with you. I shared the results of the test with Eliza and we went over it in detail. You’re completely fine.”

“I can’t be,” Kara protested. “There has to be a reason why I’m having these thoughts, Alex!”

Pulling her hands free, she jolted to her feet and began to pace.

“There has to be. I have to be sick or messed up somehow. Kryptonians don’t have feelings like this!”

Alex closed her eyes and sighed.

“Kara, listen to me, okay? You’re not sick. You’re not broken. Your best friend is a stunningly beautiful woman and adore each other. There’s nothing wrong with having a crush on her.”

“It’s not a crush!” Kara almost shouted. “It’s more than that and it’s scaring me. What if I can’t control myself? What if I hurt her? What if she sees me looking and she thinks I’m a monster that wants to prey on her?”

Alex’s expression softened. She took a few steps, arrested Kara’s pacing, and pulled her into a bear hug.

“I know how it feels, Kara. I promise you you’re not a predator and there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Kryptonians can’t be gay.”

“Says who?”

“Everybody! The computer! The rules! I don’t know,” The last words came as a broken whimper, and Kara sagged against her sister.

“What about this, Kara. You’re Supergirl. You can do anything.”

Kara pulled back in a daze, staring at nothing. Since she came to Earth, she’d embraced it with her whole self. As loath as she was to admit it, she loved it here. This world was so free, full of wonders and majesty for all its problems. Kara had never once questioned her love for her sister. If Alex could be gay, why not Kara? There was no science council here, no one to ordain who she must marry and breed with.

Why not?

She felt dizzy, and strangely relaxed, as if she’d just heaved a massive weight off her shoulders.

Alex offered her a tissue and she dried her tears.

“Go get the girl,” said Alex. “I’ll call Nia and tell her you need some alone time.”

Kara nodded, and felt half in a daze as she left the infirmary. She stepped out onto the balcony and texted Lena, can I come over?

Lena replied immediately, Yes.

Kara’s heart hammered her ribs as she landed on the balcony. Lena rushed to the door and threw it open, ushering her inside. Kara stepped into the living room of the penthouse and stumbled to a stop.

Lena was dressed down and so soft, from the mop of her wavy hair pulled into a low ponytail to her cashmere sweater down the length of her toned legs to her bare feet.

“What’s wrong?”

As Lena asked, she darted forward, offering a hug. Kara gingerly let herself be pulled into the embrace, hesitant at first. Lena dove into her, throwing herself into the hug as if she wanted to climb inside Kara. Kara wrapped her in her arms and drew her cape around them both. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lena’s feet being cold, about wanting to make her warm.

Before she answered, Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed deep. Lena’s scent hit her like a train. It was like swallowing a mouthful of alien rum, filling her chest with a spreading warmth and making her head swim.

“I’ve been trying to work some things out, and I was scared, so I ran off to the Fortress. I’m sorry.”

Lena pulled back gently and looked up at her. They were so close. Lena’s big, pretty blue-green eyes were full of worry but dark, her pupils blown.

“What’s bothering you? I’ll throw money at it until it goes away.”

Kara swallowed, hard. “I don’t want it to go away.”

Lena arched a brow. “Oh?”

Kara licked her lips and as she did, Lena’s eyes darted and followed the motion of her tongue. Kara was suddenly away of Lena’s hands resting just above her hips now, the way that her hugs and touches always seemed to trend lower, the casual way that Lena leaned into her as she looked up.

She bit her lip and Kara almost died.

“I think I like girls,” Kara blurted out.

“You certainly like my girls, Kara Danvers. You can’t stop looking.”

“You noticed?” Kara squeaked.

“Kara, darling, you’ve been staring at them for thirty seconds just now.”

Kara’s gaze snapped up.

“I’m sorry, I, oh Rao oh God, Lena.”

Lena curled her fingers around Kara’s chin and tilted her head back down.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice? The day we met you paid more attention to my boobs than my business card.”

“You gave me a business card?”

“See what I mean?”

Kara swallowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Lena’s thumb grazed her jaw and Kara thought her heart might go off like a bomb in her chest. She shuddered and her toes curled in her boots.

“I’ve been teasing you for years,” she said, “I’d almost given up hope. I wouldn’t be the first disaster bisexual to nurse a futile crush on her best friend.”

Kara swallowed hard. “So should we like go on a date?”

Lena’s fingers traced down her neck, then along the ridge of her collarbone.

“I was thinking more Netflix and chill. I know and trust you, Kara. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count, I’m ready now if you are.”

“Ready?” Kara squeaked.

“So are you, I think,” said Lena.

She rolled her hips and Kara immediately realized what she meant and what the Archive meant by her body adapting.

“Ohshit,” Kara chirped. “Oh God Lena I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, I didn’t mean to-“

Lena lunged and suddenly they were kissing. Lena’s lips were so soft and she was intoxicating. Kara pulled her into an embrace, almost lifted her off the floor as she kissed her back. Lena threw one leg up and hooked it wound her hip, and Kara instinctively scooped her up and felt a jolt through her body as Lena then wrapped both legs around her waist.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Lena panted. “Oh God, Kara. Bedroom. Now. Please.”

“You want…”

“Yes! What are you fucking waiting for?”

Later, hours later, Kara lay in Lena’s bed, while Lena slept blissfully next to her, head resting on Kara’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. She looked over at her and tucked the sheets and blankets up close around her chin and smoothed stray strands of hair back from her eyes. Lena made a small sound, and curled around Kara’s side.

Kryptonians, it turned out, could be very good at being gay.

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killerkillerkillher · 11 months ago

Text

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

#ghost mw2 #price mw2 #cod modern warfare #gaz mw2 #soap mw2 #call of duty #angel/devil au #141 x reader #141 x male reader #poly!141 x reader #let me cook!#LET ME COOK!

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