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cinnbar-bun · 11 months ago

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Mornings With You… (Crocodile x Reader)

Scenario: How they enjoy a morning with you~

Rating: SFW, pure utter fluff

Word Count: ~1.8k

Note: GN reader, fluff. MENA! Reader and MENA! Croc but basically ignorable honestly if you want. Reader and Croc smoke lmao.

A/n: You can rip Middle Eastern Crocodile from my cold dead hands I swear to GOD I do not care what anyone thinks THAT MAN IS MIDDLE EASTERN!! I AINT LISTENING TO ANYTHING ELSE!!! As a Middle Eastern woman, I just want to have this win. Just let me have it. Let me live in delusion. Let me pretend I am his housewife 😩

Breakfast was always an important part of the day for Crocodile. No matter the time, no matter the day, no matter the weather- he would always partake in breakfast with you. It didn’t matter if he would be late or miss a meeting, he would never skip out on his daily morning routine.

Today, unlike many other days before, he slept in. He had always dedicated this day of the week to you, and only you. If anyone had dared tried to interrupt this day with you, death would seem like a more sparing result than whatever hell he would unleash upon them.

Thankfully, no one was stupid enough to call him on his transponder, yet.

He scrunched his face as he recognized the sensation of the bright Alabastan sun beaming down on his face. He covered his eyes and noticed the window was open, the red curtains you had lovingly picked out fluttering with the gentle breeze. The palm trees outside were rustling as his thoughts drifted to the taste of the dates they often produced. He yawned and swung his legs over the bed, forcing himself up. He stood up and stretched, sighing dreamily as he smelled the scent of freshly baked bread.

He slid his feet into his soft house slippers while he threw on his satin robe, the one that had matched yours, as you insisted. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, fixing many of the loose strands that had become unkempt after sleeping. He walked down the winding stairs of the large house. His eyes nostalgically glanced around the hallway and décor. Once upon a time, the hallway was barren, with nary even a rug on the floor.

But now, after marrying you, the house gradually became something entirely new- warmer, lovelier, lived in, and cared for. No longer was it simply a place he would crash at for the night, but a home. A home he had shared with you. Despite the many years it had been since the faithful day he had said “I do” at your ceremony, the fact his home had changed so much still would catch Crocodile off guard. On the wall, was a framed picture of you two in your wedding garb.

His lips twitched into a smile at the memory, as if that day were just yesterday. He didn’t look different, perhaps fewer wrinkles and gray hairs on his head, but his eyes were trained on you. You looked so beautiful that day, and the smile on your face made his heart race. You looked thrilled to be marrying him.

Crocodile chuckled to himself as he walked past the picture, stepping into the dining room that connected to the kitchen. You were there, plating olives in the wood trays you had gotten on one of your shopping trips. You glanced at him, smiling that beautiful smile that had him falling in love with you all over again.

“Habibi, good morning,” you greeted in your mother tongue, wiping your hands with a rag as you strode over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His functional hand gripped your waist, swaying with you gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s good because I see you, my love,” he replied, his voice still raspy from just waking up. You chuckled and kissed his nose, patting his shoulder a few times.

“Take a seat, breakfast is almost done,” you stated, and Crocodile complied by pulling out the wood chair to sit in. He watched as you went back to drying and plating the various olives you had bought yesterday from the market.

Once the tray was filled, you placed it in front of him and popped a pickled turnip in his mouth. He nodded agreeably as he chewed on the vegetable.

“Oh, these are sour,” he mused. The crunch of the turnips also showed how impressive this batch was.

“Mhm. Saleh’s crops have been wonderful right now,” you mention happily. “He also said he’s happy to set aside more for us for dinner next week. Oh, and before I forget, I need to visit his daughter soon. She just had her first child a while ago. Saleh was telling me it was a girl!”

Crocodile snorted. “Busy chatting it up as always?”

He was fascinated with how you managed to dazzle a room and become a friend to everyone. It did have many advantages in business, as many suppliers and partners had become friendly with you, enough to the point they would give him discounts or do special favors for him. But even beyond just business or how much easier your presence allowed him to get his goals achieved, he was amazed by how sociable you were. It was the complete opposite of how he behaved, often slinking to the background and watching below. But you? No, no, no, you were in the center of the room, chatting it up with a diplomat and a farmer as if they were long time friends.

He could watch you talk for hours, hear the stories of people he would never remember while you discussed their children with them. The laughs, the smiles, the curious looks, and even the short gasps at whatever one of his associates’ partners said to you- all of it was enthralling.

“Of course,” you laugh, placing a small oil cruet beside the vegetables. “You need to talk more, habibi, you can’t keep hiding away.”

He waved his hand. “No, you got that covered for me just fine. I doubt I could ever remember Saleh’s family tree. Tell his daughter congrats for me, will you?”

“I will, dear,” you say, stirring the contents in the pot. He sniffs the air.

“Foul?” He asks and you nod.

“Mhm.”

“What have I done to deserve you?” He dramatically asks. He grabs the furled-up newspaper by the table and is about to open it when you lightly hit his wrist with your spoon.

“No, no reading at the table. We’re going to eat!” You lectured.

“Fine, fine. No need for the violence,” he jokes, the both of you knowing damn well that little smack hardly did anything to him.

“Don’t be rude at breakfast and I will not need to do so,” you tease.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a smile. You respond by placing a plate of freshly baked pita bread and hummus with sumac and parsley on top. “My love, are you trying to fatten me up? Your bread is addicting.”

He takes one and tears it, dipping a piece into the hummus. He lets out a pleasured groan as he eats it.

“I swear to God, your food gets better every time.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “Enjoy it, my love.”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. He’s careful not to hurt the remains of his left arm, since he refuses to wear his hook in mornings with you. You gaze into his eyes, full of love, and he strokes your hair. You get more beautiful every day, in a way that he cannot help but fall helplessly on his knees for you.

You kiss him on his lips before standing up. “I’ll put you some foul,” you say, picking up his bowl and putting a dollop of hummus on the bottom of it. You scoop up the foul before crushing the legumes further for him. You put a bowl for yourself and walk to him, placing his bowl in front of him while sitting beside him.

He begins to put the vegetables he likes on top of it, as well as some oil and lemon juice, before he digs in. It’s always pleasant to eat with you. It makes his day brighter when he knows he can just focus on you today. He’s lost in your voice, hearing you talk on and on about anything and everything- something he finds so amusing and relaxing. It’s so different from hearing discussions of business for hours on end.

He pours himself more bowls of your delicious food, not even realizing how much he’s eaten until he realizes nearly all the hummus and bread have been eaten.

“That was wonderful, darling,” he says, clearing his throat. “Do you have enough time for a smoke break?”

“I do, in fact, have time for one.”

“I’ll go make the hookahs for us,” Crocodile says, forcing himself up and grabbing the hookahs.

“I’ll go pour us the tea,” you grin, heading to the whistling kettle. He stuffs the top with the flavored tobacco- guava and citrus for him, (flavor) for you. He wraps the top with tinfoil and pokes many little holes into it with a toothpick. As you settle into your living room couch, he fills the bottom with water and heats the charcoal up. He gently places yours in front of you as you begin to turn on the snail to project your show.

An Alabastan soap opera is playing, and you watch with full attention towards it while Crocodile grabs his newspaper and sits on the couch across from you. He picks up the tea you just brewed for him, noticing its dark complexion.

“Good, it’s dark,” he comments. You roll your eyes playfully and click your tongue.

“Don’t drink it so dark like an old man, habibi. Not even my own grandfather drinks it as dark as you.”

“I find that hard to believe. Everybody knows a good chai is dark,” Crocodile retorts.

“Any darker and you might as well just eat the leaves itself.”

“Would you like any tea with your sugar?” He teases back.

“Fine. You go behave like a grandfather,” you chuckle, putting the hose of the hookah between your lips.

“You married me,” he reminds you. You exhale a puff of tobacco, your eyes glued to the projection. A male character comes on screen, talking to the female lead. You sigh and click your tongue again, this time from disappointment.

“This man, again? I can’t believe she even gives him the time of day. Eat shit!” You yell at the screen.

Crocodile raises a brow at you and laughs.

“What’s wrong with him? Why do you hate him so much?”

“Womanizing garbage,” you explain. “He went for her sister while he was trying to court her. And God forbid he take accountability when called out!”

Crocodile glances at the projection, watching as the man looks longingly at the female lead’s sister. “Could he be any more obvious?”

You two laugh as he goes back to reading his paper and smoking. You take a sip of your tea, not noticing how Crocodile’s eyes shift towards you. He lets out a quiet sigh in relaxation while you are engrossed in your show.

He thinks to himself once more how he adores those slow and loving mornings with you.

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #x reader

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inkmonster21 · 10 days ago

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A Cowboy’s Love

Hattie Mae Dutton is the youngest of the family whom Ryan, one of the wranglers on the ranch, has fallen for.

Yellowstone Ryan x OC!Dutton

This is part ONE

Series Masterlist

🤠

"I'm too old for this crap," John mutters, sitting on the edge of their bed. Evelyn shares his sentiment, her eyes reflecting exhaustion and frustration. She had just begun to feel like herself again after the challenges of Kacey, their already feisty son. But now, the news of the positive pregnancy test dangled in the air between them like a bitter reminder. Just as the dread began to transform into words, the door creaks open and Beth and Lee step in, their eyes instantly falling upon the test in Evelyn's hand. "Are you pregnant, mom?" Lee asks, a hopeful smile lighting up his face.

John and Evenly exchanged a knowing glance, both silently praying that fate would intervene this time. They had already gone through the challenges of having four children, and the thought of another child, especially a girl like Beth had wished, seemed almost too much to handle. But the positive test in Evelyn's hands confirmed their fears. With a resigned smile, Evelyn nods and says, "I hope it's a girl too, Beth."

Nine months later, Hattie Mae Dutton was born into the world, her entrance marked by a chorus of defiant cries, rivaling those of a bobcat unleashed from the depths of hell. Beth couldn't help but smirk as she heard her newborn sister's piercing cries, her voice filled with pride. "That's my fucking sister, right there," she declared with a chuckle.

Hattie barges into the house, her older brother Kacey in hot pursuit. "Give it back, you brat!" he yells at her. Hattie, her hand holding a knife, smirks at him defiantly. "Come and get it then! What, don't think you can beat up a girl?" Their father swiftly intervenes, pulling Kacey off of her. "What the hell are you thinking, son? She's 5 years old, for god's sake!"

John rolls his eyes at his son's antics. "For goodness' sake, Kacey. She doesn't know any better."

John scoops up his young daughter in his arms firmly, but with a hint of amusement. "Give it here," he tells her. Hattie, her expression somewhat chastened, hands the knife over to her father. "I just wanted to see it," she explains, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. John returns the knife to Kacey and steps out of the room, Hattie held securely in his arms. "You want to go for a ride?" he asks her, his tone gentler now, as he sees her eager nod.

Hattie Mae Dutton was the heart and soul of the Dutton family - the baby, the epitome of innocent charm, and the one who, it seemed, no one could ever say no to.

John sent her to study business marketing, a path John believed would perfectly position her to market The Yellowstone Dutton Ranch effectively. Lee was incredibly proud of his sister, openly supporting her every step of the way. Beth thought it was badass how Hattie had the knack to make the ranch lifestyle come alive on social media. Kacey, on the other hand, didn't give two shits about what his sister was doing, barely understanding the magnitude of her achievements. Jamie was the only one who seemed to view her entire existence as a joke.

Hattie chuckled, clicking a picture of the wranglers. "Everyone smile!" she exclaimed, her camera lens focused on the stoic figure of Rip. "Even you, Rip!" He shook his head, but reluctantly broke into a sly grin. Without wasting a moment, Hattie snapped the picture and quickly opened up her editing app to touch up the photo before uploading it to the Yellowstone Instagram page.

It was Ryan's first day on the ranch, and the moment he laid eyes on Hattie, he was instantly captivated. She hopped out of the truck, her slender figure carrying shopping bags as she returned home from university for the weekend. "Who is that?" Ryan asked Lloyd, the older gentleman standing nearby. Lloyd chuckled as he watched Ryan's gaze follow Hattie's every move. "Hattie Dutton," he replied. "Mr. Dutton's youngest girl." Ryan nodded silently, his eyes still fixated on her as she pulled out a dress and showed it to her sister. "Wow," Ryan exhaled quietly.

Hattie was stood on the porch, proudly displaying her new purchases when Beth drew her attention towards a field in the distance. A younger man was standing there, his gaze focused solely on Hattie. He smiled warmly, tipping his hat in greeting. "Oh, wow," Hattie murmured, leaning back against the porch railing and admiring the cowboy. Beth couldn't help but tease her younger sister. "Hattie, what would Vince think?" she taunted. Vince Dupond, Hattie's uptight boyfriend, was known for his jealousy and possessiveness. Was his reason rooted in her father's substantial bank account? Quite possibly.

It felt as if fate or a higher power was meticulously orchestrating every detail. Just as Vince's car pulled into the driveway, he barked, "I thought you'd be here an hour ago!" Hattie stood there, silently anticipating the storm. Beth, standing nearby, whispered into her ear, "Looks like you're in trouble." Later that evening, at Vince's apartment, Hattie's skin bore the evidence of the price she had paid for her "trouble." The marks upon her body remained unseen, a secret safely tucked away.

Months passed, and the cycle of Hattie seemingly stepping out of line only to face his wrath became a grim regularity. It wasn't until one eventful night that someone finally took notice. Sitting in Vince's truck, Hattie tried to stay silent, knowing it would be pointless to argue with him. But when he accused her of sleeping with the ranch hands, she protested. "No, I'm not!" she insisted, reaching for the handle to exit the vehicle. But Vince grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into her seat with a force that made her cry out in pain. He jabbed a finger in her face.

"I bet you fuck all of them. Huh? Is that what you do, you fucking slut?" Suddenly, the driver's door of the truck was violently yanked open, leaving Vince frozen in surprise.

Rip turned his gaze to Hattie, sensing something amiss. "Is there a problem, Hattie?" he asked, noticing how tightly Vince gripped her wrist. Vince shot back defiantly, "Mind your own fucking business, you redneck." He tried to pull the door shut, but Rip acted quickly, yanking him out of the vehicle and slamming him onto the gravel.

Rip turned his attention to Hattie, his eyes narrowing. "I'm only going to ask you once," he said. "Did he hurt you?" Hattie looked down at her wrist before nodding slightly in confirmation. Rip's gaze flicked back to Vince, a fierce look of anger in his eyes. "I knew you were a piece of shit," he spat, proceeding to pummel Vince into a bloody mess. He slammed Vince against the bunkhouse wall, shouting out, "Lloyd! Get out here!"

Rip forcefully held Vince by his collar, pinning him against the wall. As Lloyd appeared from the bunkhouse, Rip pointed towards Hattie, who remained silently watching. "You hit her, mother fucker" Rip sneered. "This is what you get." Vince, bloodied and bruised, mustered enough defiance to spit on Rip's boots before hurling a chilling threat at him, "I'm going to kill you."

Rip chuckled at Vince's empty threat, his tone coldly mocking. "Well, you ain't gonna have that chance, partner." Turning to Lloyd, he commanded, "Tie his ass up. Throw him in the truck." Vince tried to struggle against their grasp, desperately pleading, "What are you doing? Hattie, help me. Tell them to stop!" Hattie stood resolute, staring defiantly at her attacker before striding up to him and delivering a powerful punch to his face. "Rot in hell, you f\*\*king pussy," she seethed.

Hattie defiantly climbed into the Yellowstone truck, ignoring Rip's attempts to convince her to get out. "Get out of the truck, Hattie. Go home," he pleaded. She shook her head firmly, not budging. "No. If he's going to the train station, I want to see it," she insisted, her determination unyielding.

Rip looked at her steadfastly, a knowing look in his eyes. "You know what that means, don't you?" he asked. She responded with a determined nod, "Kacey's got it. I can have it too." From that day forth, Hattie made a silent vow to herself - never again would she allow herself to be a victim of cruelty, instead vowing to be the one breaking hearts.

Hattie quickly proved herself on the ranch. "Look at her go!" Lee chuckled admiringly as she skillfully managed the cattle. "She sure is something," he conceded. Ryan watched her from afar, his smile betraying his admiration. Lee noticed his interest and smirked, nudging him with a knowing look. "You think so?" he teased. Ryan's smile widened as he nodded silently, his eyes fixed on Hattie. Lloyd, riding alongside Ryan, chuckled, "Come on, Romeo."

Lee's voice carried across the plains, calling out to Hattie. "Hattie!" He observed Ryan's rapt attention towards her and continued, "You're with Ryan. Ride up to the river and move them this way." Hattie rode up to the pair, her presence causing Ryan to nervously fidget with his appearance. Lloyd chuckled at the exchange, his smirk widening. Hattie came to a halt in front of them, her soft blonde locks swaying gently in the breeze. Ryan's eyes widened as he smiled at her, his gaze captivated. "Is that alright?" She asked, only to realize he completely missed what she said. "What was that?"

Hattie couldn't help but notice the way Ryan's eyes lingered on her. Seeing the way he reacted, a sly smirk played on her lips, knowing very well about his feelings. She glanced over at her brother, unsurprised by his attempts to matchmake. Hattie tilted her head slightly and suggested, "I figured we could give them a rest once we reach the river. It's quite a long ride." Ryan nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Sounds perfect. That's a brilliant idea." Hattie, knowing exactly what was going on, furrowed her brow slightly. "Okay, let's go

Lee chuckled, giving Ryan a playful wink. "You're walking into the lion's den with her," he teased. Ryan's neck grew warm with embarrassment, and he responded defensively, "Y'all are setting me up."

Riding side by side, they gradually approached the river, the sound of the rushing water growing louder. Once they reached the river's edge, they dismounted and settled down by the water's edge. Ryan sat quietly, his mind racing as he desperately tried to find something to say.

Hattie removed her hat, her blonde hair fluttering in the breeze. She teased Ryan, saying, "You're quiet today." Ryan's flustered response began with, "Am I?"

Hattie chuckled softly. "Even after all these years, I still make you nervous?" Her tone was lighthearted, yet unbeknownst to her, her words held truth. Ryan's cheeks flushed as he admitted, "You can be intimidating, darlin'." Hattie patted his leg gently, her hand lingering for a moment longer than usual. It was a common occurrence between them, this flirtatious banter. Hattie's gaze shifted to the river, and a mischievous smirk played on her lips.

Hattie stood, shedding her shirt and jeans in swift motions. She turned to Ryan, a playful challenge written on her face. "You coming?"

Ryan's eyes widened in surprise as he watched her jump into the river. "Are you crazy?" he asked, his voice a mix of awe and concern. Hattie chuckled, "Don't be a pussy. Come on, cowboy."

Ryan took a moment, gathering his courage before discarding his clothes and joining Hattie in the river. He let out a yelp as the cool water enveloped him. "Oh, shit, it's freezing!" He swam over to her, his limbs aching from the cold. Hattie's arms wrapped around him, and he had to pinch himself to assure himself he wasn't dreaming. There, in the river, he had the woman of his dreams pressed against him.

Hattie's blunt question cut through the tension, "You wanna kiss me?" her smirk growing wider. Ryan's hands instinctively found her waist, and he knew this was a risky move. Looking into her eyes, he replied, "You know I do, darlin'." Her proximity sent his mind reeling, feeling intoxicated by her nearness. "Can I?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kiss me, cowboy." Ryan's lips finally met hers, their kiss hidden by the rippling water. Their bodies pressed against each other, hidden by the flowing river, and the secret of their situationship had begun between the farmer's daughter and a ranch hand.

One evening in the bunkhouse, the atmosphere was charged with excitement as a game of cards began. "This game doesn't even make sense," Colby grumbled, throwing his cards down in frustration. "Man, this is bulls\*t. I'm broke." Ryan revealed his winning hand, collecting the winnings. As he meticulously organized his winnings, he couldn't help but overhear the muttered comments from his fellow cowboys about a certain Dutton.

"Hattie is the perfect rider, both on horseback and in bed," Fred smirked, taking a swig of his beer. One of his friends chuckled and added, "She ain't bad. I took her for a spin last weekend." The other men snickered in agreement.

Ryan felt a surge of anger as he stood, his eyes fixed on Fred. "Bullshit!" he exclaimed, certain that Fred was making things up. Fred's attempt to play it cool failed, and he was clearly taken aback by Ryan's outburst. "What's wrong, cowboy? Jealous?" Ryan stepped forward, his anger blazing, but before he could lay a hand on Fred, Rip intervened. He placed a firm hand on Ryan's chest, commanding, "Calm the fuck down." Ryan was too enraged to speak, and Rip turned his attention to Fred.

It took all of Ryan's willpower to tear his gaze from Fred. He was seething with anger, ready to pounce on him. Rip intervened, shaking him forcefully, "HEY! Stop that shIt and tell me what happened. You know the fucking rules." Rip pushed Ryan back into his seat, the weight of his hand a reminder that he needed to cool off and explain himself.

Lloyd spoke up, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment. "Fred was speaking ill about Hattie." Rip's eyes blazed with fury as he turned to Fred. "What the f**k did you say about Hattie?" Fred attempted to shrug it off, explaining, "I made a joke-" Rip pushed him forcefully back onto his bunk, his voice a growl. "A joke? A f**king joke? That's the daughter of your f**ing boss! You ever say anything about her again, and I'll rope your ass and drag you to pasture 9 and bury you right there." Rip shook his head at the childish behavior. "A joke. Grow the fuck up," Rip walks out slamming the bunkhouse door.

Ryan understood the rules, even though he'd heard them a hundred times before. When two men wanted to settle a dispute, they went to Rip. He would fight them all day if necessary. But for Hattie, Ryan was prepared to break the rules. If she ever needed him to fight for her, he would do so without hesitation. He'd gladly pack his bags and leave with a smile, knowing he had defended her honor.

#ryan yellowstone #yellowstone #ian bohen #yellowstone fanfiction #Ryan x OC #Yellowstone Ryan x OC #original character #Yellowstone x OC

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iholli · 1 year ago

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inhales fuck it, I had fun with this, you're all getting subjected to it. My singular braincell is unleashing Booigi like the plague upon Discord and my friends are happy to encourage me. thank u Holly for the galaxy brain dialogue that inspired this silly little drabble <3

King Boo × Luigi || flirt

It's been a hell of a long night in this hotel, and King Boo can't stand it any longer. Except he's really, really bad at communicating his feelings to a certain oblivious green plumber.

Takes place during the final boss fight of Luigi's Mansion 3, so you know, if you don't want to get spoilered or whatever <3

It's been hours. At least 10 of them. And the man is exhausted.

He's been through hell, awake all night, narrowly avoiding death at every turn, fighting for his life every step of the way. He's tired and afraid, damn it, and his night still isn't done.

So this battle promising to stretch for long minutes is not something he's excited for.

Honestly, he's almost disappointed when Polterpup crashes into him, accidentally knocking him out of the way as the painting falls.

Luigi sits up as the ghostly canine hops off him, scampering off to who knows where, and the poor little plumber is back on his feet just in time for the great spectre before him to turn a seething glare on him. It's all Luigi can do not to collapse under that enraged violet gaze.

"Luigi! What are you doing over there?!"

King Boo is also tired, and he is pissed. He's spent far more than the whole night with that disgustingly obsessive woman dogging his heels like a lost puppy, watching her useless staff be thrown around by Luigi-- though, of course, the king can't deny his admiration of the man's strength and quick thinking-- and in turn feeling the anger of his own Boos being sucked away into that damned vacuum. He's going to break that frustrating contraption, so help him.

And after all that, after all his carefully laid plans-- the countless romantic settings, the harmless spooks, his desperate attempts to flirt-- Luigi still hasn't realized it! Only that awful Hellen Gravely had been wooed by the candlelit dining room, the beautiful concert, the seaside view! King Boo has had all he can take. At least Luigi vacuumed Hellen out of the picture, what a relief that was, and satisfying to say the least. Oh, and who could ignore the way Luigi smiled and danced and cheered for himself every time he successfully captured a ghost...he's just too cute!

He couldn't possibly admit it aloud, but that little green plumber has the king of Boos absolutely wrapped around his gloved finger.

"UGH! That's it! I'm sick to double death of you!"

Sick to his heart of that cute little mustache, those soft shoes, those blue doe eyes, that adorable accented voice, that sheer obliviousness! How could King Boo possibly make his feelings any clearer?! Surely Luigi is just tormenting him, and he's sick of it!

"You want to fight me? FINE! Let's go, Luigi! This is the end for you, once and for all! HERE I COME!"

The Italian's teeth are chattering in fear, because of course he doesn't want to fight, and he's thoroughly convinced the Boo just wants him dead, or at least trapped forever as a decoration. Well, it's no fault of his, considering every attempt King Boo has made at flirting has nearly gotten him poisoned or skewered or whatever else-- it's been such a long night, Luigi barely remembers all the ways the hotel has tried to kill him. And the king of Boos is very, very intimidating, no thanks to his threatening dialogue.

Which, Luigi can't possibly admit aloud, is rather attractive, in an inexplicable way. That voice, and those eyes, and...

No, no, no time to think about that now. That "rather attractive" ghost is trying to destroy him!

King Boo cackles, nearly at the end of his rope, summoning lightning, showing off his tongue (very intentionally, that is), throwing fireballs and explosives, every time missing and angrily cursing before vanishing. That Luigi...too smart in all the wrong places! Like he knows every move the Boo is going to make! Yet he can't figure out King Boo's affection towards him?!

When Luigi throws an explosive back at him, sending King Boo reeling and coughing smoke until he collapses on the roof, he's feeling more frustrated than ever. The plumber and that strange, goopy green clone of his suck him up by the tongue and smash him back and forth against the roof until the Boo tumbles backwards.

Enough is enough.

King Boo rematerializes before Luigi, glaring daggers, his enormous maw closed in a deep frown. The man steels himself for another round of attacks...

...but they don't come.

Instead, King Boo snaps.

"You know what?! Enough of this! You're cute and I've been trying to tell you that for hours-- no, YEARS now!"

Luigi freezes, his whole body going still as a ghost hit with his Strobulb. He...what?

The Boo's mouth is open now in a snarl, his brows low, his eyes glowing bright with irritation. He looks so angry; surely Luigi misheard him! If looks could kill, the plumber would already be six feet under!

"There, I said it! Must you torture me further?!"

No, he heard right.

...

He heard right?

The nozzle of the Poltergust clatters on the now-cracked concrete, Luigi barely even realizing he's dropped his only protection. He stares, then blinks and starts sputtering.

"C...cute? A-ME?!"

Oh, the Boo is a goner when that heavy accent comes out. His face flushes royal blue as he drifts like a deflating balloon to the rooftop. "OF COURSE YOU! HOW have you not figured that out?!" King Boo tries to snap in his usual tone, but it comes out in more of a pathetic whine as his voice cracks in disbelief.

"You've been-a trying to kill me all-a night!" Luigi chokes out. He's so shocked, he sinks to his knees, taking off his cap as his other hand comes up to run through his hair, the Boo watching his every move-- has he ever seen the plumber without his hat? His hair looks as soft as his mustache...

"I-- I HAVE NOT!" King Boo retorts after a moment, equally stunned.

"What...what do you call all of-a that, then?!"

"I was trying to flirt with you!" The king frantically pinwheels his nubby arms in a desperate attempt to explain. "I know those idiots kept ruining everything, but I was trying! I had a nice dinner planned, a walk through the garden floor, a magic show--"

Luigi's hand drops to his lap and he stares again at the ghost. "You set up all that...as a date?"

King Boo stops his rambling. "...yes?"

The little Italian giggles breathily, then laughs harder and harder, until he's gasping, arms wrapped around himself and tears rolling down his cheeks. King Boo blushes furiously. "What-- stop that! Why are you laughing at me? What's so funny?!"

"Oh, scusa, bello," Luigi manages when he finally catches his breath, wiping his face with his shirt sleeves. "It's just-- you are-a terrible at flirting!"

The Boo puffs out his cheeks, impossibly blue as he crosses his nubs in offense. "Well-- well, you're terrible at noticing, then!" He grumbles, his mouth closing in a pout.

"Both people are-a supposed to be there for a date, you know." The man giggles once more. He can't help being amused at the adorable grumpy face before him, and he's giddy with relief, heart fluttering now that he realizes that the ghost wasn't actually trying to murder him all this time, that the little voice in his heart was a mutual feeling.

"I...knew that." Boo's violet eyes flick away-- he definitely didn't know that-- then snaps his eyes back to Luigi in sudden realization. "Wait, what did you call me?!"

Luigi just smirks, one eyebrow cocking up, a show of the confidence he's feeling now. "Maybe if you-a take me on a real date yourself, I'll-a tell you, tesoro."

"T-TES--" King Boo blows the rest of the word into a raspberry, flustered, not knowing if the Italian is taunting him or complimenting him.

"Wait...are you asking ME on a date?"

Luigi gets to his feet, shuffling across the roof to retrieve the frame lying all but forgotten on the concrete. He inspects it for a moment, then sets it upright along the wall of the roof, aiming the Poltergust's dark-light attachment at the image of his friends and brother.

The plumber glances back at King Boo before switching the light on, grinning once more at the uncertain though hopeful king watching him. "Yeah, I-a guess I am." The light activates, a beam of rainbow slowly coloring the painting.

Well, after he explains this to Mario, and gets the group comfortably settled in the hotel, that is. And maybe gets the Boos out of their respective containers, since he knows the king will be asking.

Luigi's heart flutters again. His night doesn't feel so long anymore.

#booigi #king boo x luigi #ratkingwrites #that's a tag i NEVER thought I'd be making #i actually used to write a lot of self indulgent bullshit in middle school #but i stopped for a long time until i had to come up with a story for a game last Halloween #so I'm...kinda writing stuff like this now and then #booigi Tumblr please accept this humble offering #should i post this on ao3? I've never posted on there 👉👈#luigi's mansion 3 #this is a Hellen Gravely hate zone #every time she's on screen i want to deck her #King Boo is cute as fuck #Luigi is also cute as fuck #they're both so stupid though (affectionate)#this was fun #and i am becoming very anxious very quickly #okay bye now

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boydepartment · 1 year ago

Note

can you do sfw (fluff) fic where jungwon and reader are childhood friends and one day while jungwon is out with enha they bump into each other and while they're catching up, reader notices hoon and is like damn who's he and gets all shy

then later on in the day jungwon tells hoon about reader, then they send a selca to her with a message "he says you're cute too" and that's how their love story starts

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE TBH!!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS ANON <3

Dog Walker- Sunghoon x Reader feat. Yang Jungwon

MASTERLIST wc- 1k warnings- none :) just fluff

You were walking around the park watching the dog next to you trot happily. A dog walking job for the summer wasn’t really smart on your part but you needed the money. Your family wanted to go on a trip during the winter and you wanted to bring back souvenirs for your friends. You giggled as the dog sped up, you decided to speed up too. That was not smart either!

At some point you ended up jogging then running to keep steady with the dog. He was a bigger breed and at this point you were being dragged. People around you started to become a blur, and unfortunately so did the people in front of you.

Your vision was gone when the dog started running towards a group and got roped up with one of the guys. That led you to knock into him and fall over on the grass next to the pavement.

“I am so sorry!” You spoke in a frantic manner as you tried to get untangled, one of the boys must’ve unleashed the dog because he was not around you.

“Its- Its okay!” The guy was flailing under you trying to get untangled. You kept trying to get out by wiggling but stopped when you realized that he stopped moving.

“Y/n?” He blinked, looking confused you looked up.

“Jungwon!”

Quickly, you both got out and got the leash back on the dog, thankfully one of the guys was holding onto the dog’s collar. Once sat up and brushed off, Jungwon looked at you.

“It has been so long!” He pulled you into a hug and you hugged him back laughing. The dog ended up sitting down next to the two of you, worn out.

“It really has! I haven’t seen you since middle school! What have you been doing?” You asked.

Jungwon let out a small laugh, “a lot actually! um! These are my friends!” He turned to his six friends and your jaw practically dropped, all of them were idol looking. Clear skin, nice hair, jaw dropping, “guys! This is Y/n! My childhood friend!”

“Um hello!” Your voice sounded awkward, you felt awkward compared to these 6 people your age who looked SO put together. Especially the tall one with the mole on his face. He had such nice eyebrows and he looked sculpted out of a museum. You looked back at Jungwon in hopes you weren’t going to embarrass yourself.

“It’s genuinely so nice seeing you again!” Jungwon grinned at you, “I remember when we used to throw wet toilet paper on the ceiling!”

Your jaw dropped, “I- HAHA YEAH!” You shifted awkwardly; you didn’t want his hot friends to think you were a troublemaker!

Quickly, you pulled Jungwon aside, “dude! Who are your friends?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh I met them at work!” He laughed, Jungwon clearly found the whole situation hilarious.

“Its not funny!” You said quickly and shoved him lightly. He went to retaliate but he saw something behind you and quickly shoved you along.

“I will text you, go back home right now. Just trust me!”

Blinking, you and the dog walked back to the owner’s home. What the hell just happened?

---

“If I end up on Twitter, I am going to kill you Yang Jungwon!” You yelled at him from across your dinner table. It had been a couple days and Jungwon finally decided to explain to you what he does for a living.

“I am honestly shocked you didn’t know; my face is plastered on multiple buildings…” Jungwon mumbled, “and its fine! If that girl took a picture management will take it down!” He waves his hand around to brush it off.

“Where is the dog?” Jungwon asked, changing the subject. You sighed and sat down again.

“That’s not my dog, I am a dog walker.” He turned his head to the side when you explained your job.

“Why are you walking dogs for money?”

You looked up at him, with your brows furrowed, “because I’m not a k-pop idol like you and your hot friends?” Your statement came out as a question- an annoyed one at that.

“YOU THINK MY FRIENDS ARE HOT?” Jungwon’s jaw dropped, and he threw his head back laughing, “which one do you think is the best looking?”

“I don’t know their names!” You said quickly, “can we please talk about something else?”

Jungwon shook his head no and jumped into a seat at the table closer to you, “I am going to pull up photos and tell me which one you think is the best looking!”

“You are the worst.” You mumbled but gave into his antics.

You watched as he scrolled through his friends, “this is Jake.”

You shook your head no, that was not the guy, “that was the one that took the dog and watched him while we got untangled. That isn’t the guy.”

Jungwon looked at you, “YOU ALREADY HAD ONE OF MY FRIENDS IN MIND?”

Your jaw dropped and you shoved him, “leave me alone! Go to the next guy already!”

“Okay okay! This is Sunghoon!”

Oh man, this was the guy. You saw the photo of him, it was from one of their shoots you guessed. His hair was done and was waved perfectly. The way the light bounced off his figure was insane.

“Y/n? Is this the one you think is hot? Earth to Y/n!” Jungwon waved in front of your face.

“Huh?”

“YOU SO LIKE SUNGHOON! I’M GONNA TELL HIM!” At that, he got up and went to your door. You chased after him, but he was already down to the sidewalk.

“SAY ANYTHING AND I WILL HAVE YOUR MOM KILL YOU!” You shouted out, now standing on your fence. You couldn’t help the small smile rising on your features. You did miss Jungwon a lot, he brought out the kid in you that you thought was long forgotten…

---

As you were in your room scrolling through Instagram you got a text from Jungwon on Snapchat. You opened it and laid your head down immediately after seeing the contents. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t kick your feet a little.

You were going to kill Yang Jungwon… After you add Sunghoon… And text him… And try to make him your boyfriend…

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 3 months ago

Text

Hear me out on this one, but what if...

What if when Alastor got to Hell, his father was already an Overlord there? What if he accidentally inherited the first of his abilities and title by going after him in a dogged, mindless fury until he suceeded in tearing the man to shreds?

What if he didn't originally know his father was an Overlord, until the man's informants realised Alastor had arrived and he sent people to Take Him Out Permanently - still furious at his own death and unable to see how his own actions had led to it?

When he died, the chains binding those under him, a modest amount, switched colours and blanked out al thoughts of the previous employer. All the best to ensure that when the man reformed, he couldn't find sympathetic ears amongst his former thralls to overthrown Alastor.

And when he does come back, calling in favours from other moderate powered OVerlords who he was friendly with, and who didn't want some upstart getting it in their head that they could just go about killing any old Overlord...

They were decimated. With each death, it fed more souls to the ravenous radio-enhanced demon, and eventually... the ability to scatter them across the airwaves in agonised perpetuity was finally accessible.

-----

It could be a fun way to look at how swiftly he rose to power.

And all because as a new Sinner with nothing to lose, he could take a death or two in his pursuit of his father's blood once more.

But, the horror and tragedy of the damaged microphone is that it was also the key holding the gates shut to the previously scattered Overlords. With it dysfunctional, the atoms of their souls began to piece slowly back together until each was able to take basic form once more...

And that? That's a whole other nightmare unto itself, especially with his father leading the charge.

Alastor finds himself against a veritable army of former Overlords and the man he hates more than anything, certainly nowhere near as powerful as before... but there are many of them, and he has yet to let anyone know about his little snafu in his fight with Adam.

Alastor is resigned to the reality that the Hotel will simply find a new Overlord to patron it, because there is absolutely no way that Charlotte and her Merry band of Sinners would bother with all the fuss his failure had brought upon them, right?

He already planned his exodus, to create enough of a distraction that the released and ravenous Overlordlings would follow after him to a new location. To leave the hotel be, and hopefully keep them from associating their rage with the inhabitants... he liked to be centre of attention, after all, ha-hah!

"Come along, I killed you all before, what-say we go for round two, hmmm?" he mocks and goads and cajoles, leading them without their notice. Like the metaphorical pied piper if the rats were all ready to tear his face off with various magical powers.

It was taking every ounce of strength he had left to play this so casually. The collar at his throat was burning in Her displeasure as he pulled away from the place he was ordered... but would She not prefer her daughter safe and well, as requested, than harmed by his mistakes?

He was certain Vox was watching this now, likely at full mast, the little sadist. It wouldn't be long before a smug entreaty from the picture box came, an offering to rejoin the Vees... and, damn it all, if Alastor wasn't at least entertaining the idea like a much disliked thrice-removed aunt that had arrived on his doorstep unexpectedly.

Four overlords could plow through this lot without a second thought, and perhaps Vox could help him with his broken staff... they were both technologically based beings after all. He had to have some idea how to fix the foci.

As he dodged and weaved, unleashing poppets and cackling aloud in a great display of toying with those baying for his blood, the Radio Demon could feel himself falling short. If he could get them past the bounds of the city, to one of the remote broadcast stations... it would be isolated enough to unleash whatever he could.

And more importantly, for whatever defeat he may incur to not be within view of a camera. No use giving the picture box a new video to fantasise over for the rest of eternity.

The musing leaves him open to an unexpected blast from the side, taking out two of his tendrils and unbalancing the overlord. The curse he lets out is more jumbled static than anything else as he hits the ground, the impact to his chest momentarily forcing his mind blank from the lancing agony.

A hand fists the front of his shirt to drag him upright, even as tell-tale blood begins to pool from within the fabric to the immense amusement of his accoster. "Well now, boy, looks like you picked another fight you couldn't win before we even got back, hunh?"

That familiar, hated voice distorted through inhuman features. Families normally tended to share characteristics when they landed, with a few exceptions... in this case, Alastor hoped he took after his maman wherever she rested amongst the Winners.

Because his father was some horrific wasp-humanoid abombination. It had been disgusting to see him the first time, in the flesh, and far worse to feel the potency of his venom as it burned like liquid fire through your veins. He'd been an overlord through fear... not unlike the man he'd been in life.

And once more, he had the upper hand.

"Should've beaten the bitch to death before she welped you, boy." He buzzed, and bit down on the tendril that fought to shove him back. "Not getting away that easy this time. We had time to talk, once we got our selves back, and I think we've just about managed to pin down all your little tricks."

"Oh?" Alastor goads, grinning, as he dissolves into shadow. Or, that was the plan, a female former overlord hurled a blinding white-cold net over his body. The thread was fragile, but the light burned... he'd hated facing her at full power, but even now her little tricks held a sharp sting.

A third of his cadre of displeased overlords stepped forwards, scattering a powder over his incoporeal form that felt like being submerged in a fizzing bottle of soda. And with a sharp popping sensation, Alastor was once more physical and in the flesh; his claws snapping the binding threads easily as he snarled.

"What an adorable little trick you have learned there, Dendamosia... wherever did you get," he paused, licking at a stray piece of powder on his lip and thinking. "...screaming hydrophant pollen and-... is that a hint of hellboar tusk?- at such short notice. Those are obscenely expensive in this Ring right now."

"...don't I fuckin' know it. But it was worth every penny, cause I dun gotcha, smartmouth. And I reckon we'd all like a word with y'all, if ya dun playing hide'n'seek now." Dendamosia snarks back. A very strange overlord, she used to spit tobacco at such speeds he could take a thrall's head off when they displeased her. A very unsanitary fight to the death that one... Alastor had never quite managed to get the suit clean and had given it to Niffty for her crafts.

"Well, I was attempting to lead us to a level playing field just beyond the city with a few rubble piles we can use for our purposes, but here will do as well, I assume." Alastor beams, magnanimous. "However, if you can limit destruction to a four street radius in either direction, we will thankfully avoid drawing the attention of Carmilla and Zestial, whose territories exist in those directions. I'm sure you can recall how little those two like to fight at short notice?"

"The old guy and that uppity bird who thought she could deal weapons to real men? Hah, you think we couldn't handle them on a bad day?" His father goads again, crowding into Alastor's space in a way that is trying to trigger some truly horrific memories from childhood that Alastor is frantically keeping a lid on.

"Carmilla is the best weapons merchant in the city, in multiple rings in fact... she surpassed your paltry efforts into the area decades ago. You would do well to treat her with the respect she is due..." Alastor replied, narrowing his eyes and dodging a poorly-tossed knife. He Tsked, it wasn't even an angelic weapon, what was the thrower thinking?

"You think I care? Once I get my power back, I'll put her back in her place as both an Overlord and a woman. Might even teach those pretty little girls a'hers to be good homemakers... get rid of all those fancy airs and booksmarts she let them get. Lets the rabble have ideas above their station... but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you... boy?"

"Intriguing. I dare you to say that to her face... or indeed to any of the Overlords close to Carmilla, they will fillet you alive and I shall be simply overjoyed to watch it happen. Why I suspect dear Rosie will keep you alive and regnerating for a good century or so in her larder, just on principle!"

"There you go again, always hiding behind women!" Snarls his father, clearly not noticing the way some of the freed Overlords behind him had started to frown in his direction. They wanted Alastor dead, of course, but... this man was clearly not the mouthpiece for all of them, and some of his ideas seemed like they were going to be a problem in future negotiations.

"Seeing women as people with their own thoughts and ideas is not hiding behind them. It is merely being human, you misogynistic fool. But your whole life was made onthe backs of others, with minimal effort towards any success or accolade you received, there was an underpaid person beneath you who deserved it more. You were born to look down on anyone who did not share your wealth, status, colour, sex or ideology... and the world started to pass you by, didn't it Father?" Alastor said, latching on to the other man's lapels with his fist and gouging bloody furrows in the flesh below as he expanded.

"You always had to have control, and what you did to the indentured servants and the workers in your so-called care was deplorable. But you couldn't help yourself, could you? You may have been born to a higher class, but you never had any yourself. And that made you angry, a small-cocked rooster strutting about the henhouse, always shouting about his importance and growing frustrated by diminishing applause at your own ingenuity."

He hisses as his father begins to bite at the hand holding him, and it aches. The other overlords hurling different weaponry and blasts of power his way, as he unleashed murderous poppets without restraint upon them.

"...you would beat people, even to death, for daring to not bow and scrape before you for the slightest thing. Your beliefs were already crumbling to dust, as was your reputation, by the time it came to light how many bastards you'd forced on the local women... or how many were found dead by so-called mysterious means when the law started to ask questions. The men you assaulted always dying of intriguing accidents, how convenient."

Unease is stirring amongst some of those aiming to attack alongside his Father. Some were cruel and capricious, human life meant nothing... but most still had a flicker of disgust for something like the wasp Sinner.

Alastor laughed, fighting to hold onto his form as the combined assult and venom, exhaustion and angelic essence, wore down the last vestiges of his abilities.

"And to find you down in Hell attempting to rearrange the world to your own ideology again... unsurprising, uninspired. An empire run by clerks and the underlings, and you on your big boy throne, forcing your thralls to give constant adulation so you feel like a 'real man'. Well father, I strongly suspect you wouldn't know what that is if a dictionary struck you in the face."

"Alright, I've had just about enough of you. Think it's about time you learned who's really in charge round about these parts, hmm?" With a whistle that seemed mechanically impossible given his wasp-like mouth, a burning length of divine cord lasso'd about Alastor's free wrist.

And a second coiled about his throat, giving some of the stronger overlords below something to pull the titan off-balance with. Alastor crashes to one knee, forced to drop his father in order to steady himself. The bastard hits the pavement and rolls.

Alastor snarls, runes filling the darkening air as he pools power to open an eldritch portal of tentacles to hopefully force the others. back once more. He manages one only half the size he'd hoped for, but it was still enough to take a good half-dozen of his pursuers off-guard as tendrils began to tear them limb from limb.

His vision doubles, triples as the strain of it all finally forces him back to regular form.

The disgust that roils in his stomach at his father's triumphant laughter. As if anything here today was his doing outside of a few stings. All the other overlords had tried, but the bastard had stood back and merely accepted the applause as his god-given right.

Stars burst behind his eyes as a heavy blow lands across his skull, with another swinging back the other way almost immediately. Alastor's mind reels, but he's not about to go out on his knees like this.

With a determined shove, he rises to his feet, flaring his claws to gouge out chunks of the closest assailant. Laughing at their screams echoed about the area, hot blood spraying over his lips delectably.

He surges forwards towards a ferret-like former overlordd and tears his throat out in a gorey mess, spitting the chunk aside.

No powers, no way out... but not going down without a fight.

Just for a fleeting moment, Alastor does hope that perhaps one of the other Overlords or even his royal Lowness will have the capacity to utterly destroy this unprecedented influx of grizzled and furious overlords, in his stead. It would not do to have them destroy the delicate balance that had been carved in Pride since the last of the Big Names had been overthrown.

Ah, perhaps that insipid little hotel had changed the Overlord for the better if he was already thinking of others in his last moments. Someone's arm tore away from tehri body wetly as they stabbed at him. A tendril curling about the throat of the angler-fish overlord who used to hold Zeezi's territory... very odd way of doing business, that one. He crushed her larynx and barely avoids his own being bitten by a serpentine fellow intent upon getting his revenge.

Throughout it all, Alastor could feel the way his father hovered at the periphery, grinning and drinking in the scene of his revenge. If only Alstor could take him with him...

Something slams sharply into his back, a crimson point emerging between his lower ribs, as he suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

Alastor hits the pavement on his knees, almost listing to one side, but a familiarly cruel grip on his antler forces him to remain upright.

"Looks like you lost, you miserable halfbreed... but on your knees is a good look for you. Least you knew your place in the end." His father beams, malice in his eyes that bordered on manic glee as he took his revenge. He spat at the ground between Alastor's knees, "I'm going to erase all trace of you from this place, no one will remember your name or think of you, when I'm done. What friends you had will be hunted and removed until no trace of you exists. Think that's fair enough for what you did to me."

The radio static is thick and garbled as he fights for words amongst the cloying blood in his throat. "If y-y-yo-u can, gooooo ahead then."

The hand on his antler tightens, twisting it violently.

"With pleasure." snarls the wasp, the rasp of unsheathed weaponry accompanying his raised arm. Ah, how quaint... he did remember to bring an angelic blade after all...

Alastor stared right into those hateful eyes, and found himself utterly devoid of anything much in that moment. Death imminent, body singing a chorus of different pangs, aches and pains... but emotionally flat.

And then his father chokes in surprised agony as something struck him violently from above. The force knocking the sinner several feet back into a nearby building, and allowing Alastor to crumple to the ground.

"Hey, that's my daughter's emotional-support-cannibal-overlord!" Lucifer decrees, hovering above them all with horns out and wings flared. Charlie jumps down from his arms to land on the wasp-like Sinner, claws out.

"V-ven...om..." Alastor garbles a warning. But he needn't have bothered, for Charlie had already grabbed the mandibles and torn them right out of his father's face in veritable confetti canon of viscera. Vaggie pinning the arcing abdomen to the pavement with her spear before the bastard's secondary barb could be used.

If he'd had the energy for it, Alastor would have laughed. There was something deliciously ironic about his father being disarmed and dismantled by these two warrior women. The rage in those eyes as they fell on Alastor, how they tried to shift the blame for even the man's own weakness as the Princess and Consort-to-be mercilessly turned him to paste, just wonderful to behold.

Bullets sprayed in focused bursts, as Angel Dust parted through the crowd of former overlords. They were powerful, but not 'cop an angelic bullet and live through it' at this point. Watching them scatter was intriguing, and slightly alarming.

Before he can find a way to voice this, a boundary of pure electricity springs up around the area, allowing Angel, the delightfully fiery Miss Cherri Bomb, Husker and Niffty to start picking the adversaries off one by one. Lucifer was busy menacing with his presence alone, and keeping an eye on Charlie in the throng.

Alstor is relatively certain that he saw Vox materialise a few feet away with someone else, but that would require turning his head.

He huffs a tired, wet laugh as Desdamonia's head rolls comically by. And then Rosie was there, sharp eyes assessing the damage and making decisions. Vox stood at her back, keeping an eye on the fray and frying anyone who got too close.

"Well, this is quite the mess." She surmises, and dabs at his face with a kerchief, it coming back quite thoroughly ruined with gore. "Ah, you are quite inconsiderate Alastor... when you promised I could eat you if you died, I expected at least some quality control on the meat. This is a bloody, poorly marinated mess."

"Apologies kssshkt... for the... zzzt... poor fare..." he snatches the words from the airwaves as best he could, and she strokes his hair.

"Nevermind that now. I suspect you will enjoy the sinner meat I just had imported in, they were part dolphin apparently, and I understand the flavour reminds one of tuna." She speaks of nothing at all, clearly just keeping his awake and aware, despite the desperate urge to he feels to just fall back into the soothing darkness behind his eyes.

A hand smacks his cheek. "Oh you old timey fucker, you don't get to die before I kill you!" grumbles a picture box about an inch from his face, which is quite the disconcerting sight to open one's eyes to.

"...Vox."

"Yeah, it's me, you idiot. Why the hell didn't you just come to Vee Tower when this lot were after you, I would have helped you! Hells, Velvette wanted to rip the wasp's head off when he heard his bullshit about women... she's running a slander campaign on the former overlords so even if someone escapes, they can't get a clawhold in anywhere." Vox was rambling.

Where had Rosie gone? Because he didn't recall transferring laps, and yet...

"She's gone to grab the King, the guy's a little too into 'helicopter parenting' but we need him over here to keep your sorry ass alive. Oh, well you might wanna hang on an extra minute, because I think she just spotted Bantuin, the Hyena Overlord that used to always used to run slander campaigns against her in his magazine before he went missing. Yeah, oof, Rosie's pulled one of his legs off and he's choking on it..."

"Vox?"

"What? Oh, yeah, look you stupid fucker..." Despite the tone, Alastor's head was gently assisited to look over what remained of the battlefield that still fought or at least twitched with some form of life. "All these people came to save your ass, and it wouldn't have come to you nearly getting killed for good if you'd just said something back at the hotel. Or hells, come to me. I wouldn't have even asked for any sort of kinky stuff as a thank you..."

That got him an exhausted glare.

"Yeah, yeah... I know. Still love you, even after all the times we fought, but you were my friend first. Even when I'm pissed at Vel or Val, I'd still defend them with my life... and you? You picked me up the day I fell into Hell. I would have helped. Even fucking Lucifer himself is down here with a vested interest in keeping your infuriating self alive."

"...very strange..."

"It's called being cared about, Al. But given what your fuckin' dad over there was saying, and holy shit do we need to get you some proper therapy for that mess, it's not hard to imagine why you struggle to trust anyone. Or love them."

The television sighs, one hand carding through red hair matted with blood, and the other maintaining pressure on the-... wait, when did the blade get removed?

"They do, you know. The weirdoes at the hotel... the minute I realised what was happening and reached out to the Princess, they hauled ass to come to your rescue. Rosie didn't even bother to change out of her nightgown when she heard, and let me port us both here through the electricity." He then smacks Alastor across the forehead, lightly, albeit with a ringing echo born of previous blows. "Don't you ever fucking pull something like this again and try to scramble my cameras to hide your trail, it took ages to work out where you were heading because of that."

"Oooh, looking a little worse for wear there, Deer Daddy..."

Alastor's stomach clenched at the approach of the other Vee, who was languidly smoking and firing at the penned former overlords. His eyes cold behind those shades, following a particular body as it tried desperately to escape.

"...Valen...tino. Why are y-oou here?"

"Well, ciervo, for one you have my high-class whore on the playing field and I want to keep him alive. Secondly, it was a bit funny to watch Vox frantic like that... and thirdly, I came to see if someone specific escaped. Always wanted another chance to end them, if I won't be stepping on your hooves to do so?"

Alastor knew exactly who the moth meant, someone even more sadistic than Valentino, who had used his thralls until they died on his-... ah, well, it was impolite to discuss. He'd been sickened to learn of the Overlord, and gone out of his way to kill the 'pimp' at his earliest convenience.

The Radio Demon had freed the thralls there, uncertain what to do with so many well-trained sex workers who all seemed to think they also had to 'serve him'. It had been wildly unnerving. Instead, he'd talked to them and found employment or new contracts for the majority.

He didn't recall Valentino amongst the throng, but there had been a few winged ones. And Overlord powers gave you the ability to shift form, so perhaps he had been there.

"Make him... suffer... as you wish." He rasped, finally gaining his own voice back. "And remember... what it was like to... be on his...leash... when you look after your... 'bitches'."

A subtle reminder, as both their eyes strayed to Angel Dust, covered in blood and crowing in delight at the slaughter alongside Husk and Cherri.

"...I hear you." Valentino replies, and crouches a tad too close for Alastor's liking, exhaling that dizzying smoke right into his face as he coughs. "Here... it'll help numb things until you start to regenerate properly."

Alastor wasn't going to thank the moth for it, but he could feel some of the tension draining from his discomfort as the smoke curled in his lungs. The moth patted him on the hand, in a far too familiar way, and disappeared in the direction of Him.

"Did you want me to do that?" Vox asks, boldly running a thumb over Alastor's cheek now. A slow motion that didn't trigger the normal instinct to bite. "Make the pain go away, I mean?"

The eye loomed large, swirling in question.

"I-... it's never... worked before?" Alastor manages, his grin tightening as he watches dear Vagatha spin in mid-air to launch a cackling well-armed Niffty across the heads of the ramining and right into a tall dinosaur sinner that screamed as she carved a way inside his chest.

"Yeah, but you've never been this fucked up before... or partially elevated on Val's stuff, so... it might?" Vox offered, shrugging. Taking implicit permission from the way Alastor tilted his neck slightly to lock eyes properly.

"Uh, okay, shit..." Vox was flustered. It wasn't like they were about to kiss, but he sure acted as if they were. "Alastor, you're going to feel tired and weightless, and move to a place where the pain can't touch you... BUT not like, die. Okay? Just put it out of mind and a bit to the left, but don't straight up die on me."

The words felt soothing, and rooked no argument from the exhausted overlord, as he let himself drift.

At some point, other voices came closer once more, and he was lifted... but he let his eyes close properly as true sleep came for him. Blotting out the soft golden glow being bestowed.

Perhaps there was something to this whole caring and allowing vulnerability thing, after all...

--------

Sobbing was the first thing that stirred him, and it became apparent that whatever soft surface he was laid upon... he was NOT the only occupant.

Normally, he was a tad picky over who he would allow in his space... but today it seemed that he didn't much care for that.

Niffty was curled into a ball atop his head, one hand clutched about his antler like a lifeline as she slept. He felt the tickle of Kiki's tail as she curled up to one side of his throat, brushing against his face in her slumber.

Speaking of cats... a secondary rumble came from the greyish winged loaf to his left, just pressed against one arm as if by accident. Purring away. And a shade further than than, a long pink streak primarily curled about the cat sinner, with a few fingertips pressed against Alastor's clothed arm.

Head pillowed on Husk, Charlotte had his waist in a deathgrip, as if he'd disappear if the slumbering princess didn't anchor him to this realm hard enough. Naturally, playing the big spoon to dear Charlotte, was Vagatha, who also seemed to be touching him somewhere around the leg region.

Something else was sprawled across his lower legs, several something actually, at least one felt especially spherical. He tried to summon his shadow to report back, but it giggled at him in response.

Hard to lift one's head with Niffty perched precariously atop it, after all.

What he could see, upon his other side, was Rosie. Half-seated on the mattress edge and slanting slowly across the bedhead, a hand on his shoulder even in slumber.

Alastor was starting to feel like a community garden project, with some many different people insistent upon being in his space today.

And that was before he glanced down at the clawed blue hand resting on his chest and realised the other person to his right was Vox, who appeared to be fast asleep seated at the side of the bed. He was face-down on the mattress, and that was somewhat amusing.

Less amusing, was the realisation that the lanky purple form sprawled over three of his armchairs was, in fact, Valentino. With Miss Velvette curled on his chest, her phone dinging obnoxiously even when she wasn't interacting with it.

However, what really and truly nearly made him dislodge Niffty and catapault her through the ceiling, was the sudden realisation that Lucifer was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed, arms crossed over his white-clad chest and a nebulous stare aimed right at Alastor.

Before he can even think of a good opening line, the King stands, and hovers above the mattress so Alastor doesn't have to crane his neck to see him.

"Alastor, glad to see you awake again so soon. I think we need to have a little chat about what happened out there... and how we make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Majesty, I assure you that it wasn't my intention for the inamtes to release themselves from my broadcast... if I can just repair my miscrophone, I shall be able to seal them back inside once more."

"Oh, this old thing? Yeah, Husk helped us work out that we needed it to lock them away again and I snapped it back together on the battlefield. It's got a few new wards of my own invention, so we shouldn't have a repeat of this fucking nightmare again." The King says, manifesting the now whole foci and dropping it into Alastor's free hand. "But that's not what I meant."

The overwhelming joy and gratitude bubbling up in Alastor's throat died out as a sense of dread arose in its place. Ah, is this the part where he'd be thrown out of the Hotel after all? His ears snapped back, making Niffty giggle in her sleep.

"Oh stop with the panicking, as annoying as you can be when you try to out-dad me or whatever that whole thing we do is, I'm not about to toss you out of the hotel. No, I want you to promise me that next time things go absolutely sideways for you like Adam nearly cutting you in half or breaking the thing holding back the worst of the worst in some weird dimensional prison... you tell someone."

The King was glaring down now, whispering so angrily it felt like being yelled at by the world's sternest librarian. "You know what? I changed my mind, even if you think you've got a cold coming on or just need a day off, you're going to say something. Because none of this needed to happen. Char-Char's been sobbing in her sleep she was so fucking worried about your stupid red self. If you'd said something, I could have patched up that wound, and fixed your stick thing. Or just been able to capture and contain those Overlord guys until we could find a better option..."

The angel pauses, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "But I get why you didn't, or at least didn't think you could... I heard the wasp guy. And now I kind of understand why you've been such a huge pest about always wedging yourself between me and Charlie... but I'm not like that, and I'm sorry that you had to deal with someone like that. It explains soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much about you, actually."

"Sire..." Alastor half-growls, feeling insulted, but pauses as the rumble of sound appears to rouse half the occupants of the room. "I appreciate your... support, and the return of my foci, but please do refrain from psychoanalysis at this time. It's been quite the day..."

The next words choked off as Charlie's delighted 'Al!' was accompanied by what felt like his waist being turned to powder.

"Hey, the Strawberry Pimp's alive!" Angel yawned, stretching and popping six different arms all at once as he multitasks. Scritching husk behind the ears, untangling Charlie, and patting Al on whichever part of arm he could reach. "Glad t'see you ain't double-dead... man, those guys were assholes. And I thought my pops was bad..."

"Well, do let me know if yours is down here. His majesty has improved my staff, so I may be able to add him to the studio audience, if you would like..."

"...might take you up on that, Smiles. How you feelin'? You looked retty fucking rough when we found you... and that was before the little stripsearch where we found what Adam did to ya."

"You WHAT?" Radio feedback startled the rest of the room awake. Cherri Bomb, Fat Nuggets, and Frank the Egg Boi shot awake and rolled off of him with the aussiest of curses.

"Calm down, just ya shirt, really. Niffty took it to launder it, and once you were healed and clean, I grabbed something out of my dresser for you. Couldn't work out how t'get into your room... Spooky Lite over there was guarding it a bit too fierce." Angel points at the shadow, which shrugs.

"Fair enough. I-... what am I wearing?"

Looking down, Alastor felt an eye twitch at the shirt which so blatantly advertised that he was 'Hard to Kill, Easy to Fuck'.

Vox, awakened by the commotion, clearly registered the shirt for the first time and started to cackle loudly; followed by the other Vees as they groggily returned to consciousness.

His distortion flared automatically as Velvette attempted a covert photo. He thoroughly enjoyed her little 'Awww, spoilsport.'

"Ah, excuse me I must have nodded off!" Rosie said, righting herself. She must have popped home because her attire was immaculate as always. She sat upright and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm afraid that, now I know all is well, I need to get back to Cannibal Town... otherwise it might very well burn to ash in my abscence. Susan said to give you her best wishes that next time they 'aim better to get your shrivelled little heart', my deer."

They cackled together at is, Alastor's mind already whirring on revenge options, as his friend left the room with a soft wave.

A dishevelled Husk stretched, smacked Angel and Alastor in the face with his wings, and then froze. "Uh, my bad... forgot where we were?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Well, I will ignore that little incident because the purring was rather delightful, dear Husker. Almost as enthusiastic as little Kiki here."

"He PURRS?" Angel shouts, looking like a kid on Christmas. "Oooooh-ho-ho! I need to hear that... c'mon kitty, do the thing!"

"...why did we save your insufferable ass again?" Husk mumbled, to Alastor's delight. Trying to look dignified as Angel squished his fluffy cheeks, and Cherri Bomb joined in, trying to find the right button to get him to purr.

"Oh you wound me Husker, do you not enjoy my company?"

He narrowly avoided being slapped with the feathered tail.

Niffty finally woke up and rolled down into Alastor's lap, where she was scooped up by Vaggie, giggling madly. "Morning Sir! I got to stab so many people, did you see?!"

"I did, dear, I did. You were very vicious!"

Vox stood up and cracked his spine, "Ugh, sleeping like that fucks with my spine... it's like I crashed at my desk..."

"Want me to help?" Valentino purrs, and gets a warning look from just about everyone. He rolls his eyes, "Not that I wouldn't be opposed to a little audience for that, this isn't the right mood. Besides, I'm actually pretty good at massage and cracking joints... with this many limbs, you have to be."

It seemed like Angel and Charlie finally registered Valentino's presence, and shrank back. The moth noticed, rolled his eyes and made his way to the bedside to extend a hand to Alastor.

"He didn't die for hours, and I made him feel it every second. So, perhaps it's only fair that we make that little favour a deal..." Valentino says, directly to the deer, who takes his hand. As usual, there's a blinding array of green and plush pink, before it settles. "...hadn't had to think about that guy in a long time."

"...keep in mind how close you came to following his path, and make a different choice. Or I will co-... hmmm, how can I best rephrase this?" Alastor pauses, knowing his audience. "Or you shall be part of the audience as well."

Uncharacteristically, Valentino had a very solemn expression on his face. "If I'm ever that bad... you have my permission."

"Excellent! Well, if all the melodrama has concluded for today, can we please go and get something to eat? Lounging in bed feels so wasteful in such a nice day, and there are so many different flavours of sinner to try."

"Cute, but that whole evil overlord schtick just won't cut it anymore, Al, I think they've gone full duckling and imprinted on you." Vox advises, putting a cautious arm around Al's shoulders.

For the sake of the audience, Alastor allows his ears to drop. "Ah, blast. I don't suppose eating one of them while the others watch will work, hmmm?"

"Oooh, depends on the definition of-..." Valentino adds, at the same time Angel pipes up with, "Now that could be some interesting ratings if we-..."

Alastor buries his face in his hands.

"Hah, realised how fucked you are, have ya?" Cherri grins, cheekily. "Decided we like havin' you around, mate, so good luck getting rid of us now!"

He plucks her from the floor with a sudden tendril and mimes tossing her out the nearest window, much to the cyclop's obvious shrieking delight. Alastor forestalls the incoming iinnuendoes by raising a finger in the general direction of Valentino. "Don't. say. anything."

"Voxxy, I know you're glad your old boyfriend or whatever is alive, but we got a press conference in twenty minutes at the Tower. We gotta zap-zap ourselves over there if we wanna get freshened up in time..." Velvette chimes in, her phone going ballistic. She shrugs at the assembled. "Price of success, innit?"

"Thanks for the reminder, babydoll." Valentino says, scooping her up and peppering the other Vee with kisses as she giggled and half-heartedly swatted at him. "...I'm sure we'll see you at the tower another time, Deer Daddy, but we need to borrow our TV back for now... come along Voxxy."

Rolling his eyes, Vox places a brief peck on Alastor's cheek, and turns away as electricity gathers about him. "Alright, tuck in, the wiring here is ancient so it'll be a squeeze til we hit the mainlines outside." he warns, enveloping the other two and in a blink, they're gone.

"You and the fucking tv? How does that even work? He's a flat screen?!" Angel and Cherri are yelling, it's hard to pick out individual voices.

Alastor suddenly feels exhausted. "Not presently, no. We were once... but, we had a disagreement. And as to the specifics of his form, it works the same way anything does down here... magic, I assume. I have seen the man eat an entire roast without issue, even when the question of how or why he needs to eat is at the forefront of everyone's minds."

"...and his tongue?" An eyebrow waggling spider prompts, before Husk whips him with a wing.

A glint of mischief in his eyes, Alastor merely smiles back. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Cherri made a noise that sounded like 'Oooooooooooooooooooh!" and was subsequently smacked by the other wing.

"Stop encouraging him!"

"I'm really glad you're okay, Al..." Charlie chimes in, her smile wavering as if on the verge of tears. "I was so worried... by the time we got to you, there was so much blood..."

"Yeah, you fucking idiot, we got super worried about you. Thought we'd have to find a new Overlord to sponsor the hotel or something." Vaggie joked, nervously.

"...based on the mild haranguing I received from his Majesty before you all awoke, it appears my attempts to minimise damage and distress were ineffectual." Alastor concedes, one of his ears twitching rhythmically in the way he often bounced his knee when feeling chagrined.

"If ya dad is a fucking psycho who broke out of the magic radio prison you shoved him in and rallied an army of overlords t'kill ya... just say so next time? We can handle it, alright?" Angel interjects, fiercely.

"Exactly, you need to trust that we can and will help you if something is wrong. Same way we trust you..." Charlie adds, and it feels like a kick to the heart to hear such a thing. "And especially about the whole Adam thing, what were you thinking keeping that to yourself?!"

She was clearly fighting tears.

"Because I suspected you would take it personally, like this, that I failed to ward off the First Man dear Charlotte." Alastor admits, the words felt like they'd been dragged out by wild horses, so unusued to sharing honestly after a century in hell. "But it was in no way your fault that my fight did not pan out in the manner I had planned..."

"That is true," Charlie replies diplomatically, "But if we'd known you were hurt or your staff-... fucky? thing was broken, we could have stopped all of this. We wouldn't have nearly lost you today."

"Foci, dear."

"Microphone thing, whatever. Listen, Alastor, this whole place works if we all trust each other... so we need you to at least try." Vaggie says, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"...fine, I will... think on it." He compromises, not sure what answer he could give that they would want to hear.

Charlie relaxes, as does the remainder of the room.

"Oooh, can we have pancakes for breakfast?" Niffty yells, far too close to people's ears for that volume, and not caring in the least. At least a few sinners side-eye his Majesty, who grins in reponse before snapping his fingers.

A dessert cart topped with pancakes, jams, syrups, ice cream and all manner of fruit materialises near the armchairs and small coffee table. The motifs about the room are starting to tickle something in the back of the Overlord's brain... a lot of white, red, gold... wait that a painting of an apple?

Oh.

Oh no. Was this his little Majesty's room? Alas, he will never live down having been laid to rest in the King's bed, the ex-angel had won this round until such time as Alastor could find a means by which the monarch could recouperate in the Radio Demon's own room.

Possibly, given the lack of concern from the King, Alastor is the only one thinking this way. The only one tallying and keeping track... or perhaps not, he realises, as his majesty raises a single finger, winks and pokes his tongue out.

If it wasn't below his dignity to do so, Alastor would call Charlie's attention to it.

Speaking of the King...

Lucifer has seated himself back on the bed, those sharp eyes are looking at Alastor in anticipation. Hadn't he already thanked the man? Or did he? This morning had been quite the mess... oh, had it only been a night's sleep or was this far more embarrassing than the Overlord had previously realised?

"Well? If we've all learned our lessons about the importance of trust and sharing burdens... is there anything anyone else wants to share with the class?" The smug little prince of lie asks, making a show of shifting his well-starched white collar, not dropping eye contact for even a second.

And Alastor feels his insides grow cold as stone.

Ah. Of course... if the King had laid hands on his to heal him, it would have been immediately obvious.

Charlotte has put her plate down, moving back over to the bed as she glances between Alastor and her father anxiously.

"Al... is there something else you need to tell us?"

"I-..." Blast these feelings of guilt and vulnerability. He looks her dead in the eyes, a hand coming up to activate the collar at his throat, which glows violet in the suddenly silent room. "I may need your assistance with something else... and it involves where your mother has been for these past few years. She-..."

The stitches flare up, cutting off his speech.

Lucifer's face falls, slightly. He'd known a soul claim was there, but... it was like ripping of a bandaid. Fast or slow, the ahce remained in that action.

Charlotte looked like she was about to burst into tears... and then she hugged him. "It's okay Al... we're going to fix this, and get through it, no matter what."

...was this what they called unconditional love?

Hmmm, perhaps it wasn't so horrifying a prospect after all.

---------

END

This was meant to be the first like three headcanon paragraphs and now its hours later with this mess.

Thanks

#hazbin hotel #alastor #backstory concept #what if the other overlords returned and tried to kill him #maybe radiostatic i didnt intend it to aim that way but #characters do what they do sometimes #vox #author is australian and worked so hard to tone down the swearing because thats how convo is out here

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 year ago

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YANDERE HANTA SERO HEADCANONS

1. Well, let's start off by saying he's manipulative. He's a social butterfly like Kaminari and has no problem when it comes to socializing and making friends. And of course, no could EVER suspect that someone as fun and outgoing and bubbly like Sero can have dark intentions

2. He is actually rather good at hiding his yandere tendencies behind his ''social mask'' thing. He will aim to try charming into your heart and your parent's and family's hearts as well. After all, he needs to be on good terms with your family if he's going to be your husband and your parents' son-in-law

3. I don't know why I'm imagining this, but, Sero would most likely be a clingy ASF yandere and a possessive one too. And yeah, he's up for showing all the scumbags who try taking you away from him that you're HIS

4. When it comes to stealing your stuff and all that, it depends on how he's feeling. He does take a few things of yours here and there from time to time (it's like the LAW for every Yandere, I SWEAR!!! ) and if you end up being miserable about not finding your favorite hoop earrings or your favorite book? Boom! Expect a note on your article with Sero's name on it with a box of Godiva chocolates or your favorite type of chocolates so he can make a good impression on you

5. This boi is a stalker all right, but he knows that you deserve your personal space. So, he won't go THAT far as to breaking into your house and watching you sleep and laying down on your bed with you and all that. He'll just follow you back to your house everyday to make sure you're safe and sound at home. But if he feels that you're STILL not safe, he'll just set up camp outside your bedroom window and watch you sleep ( Don't worry, he won't take pictures)

6. He's a pretty laid back and chill guy in general. But when he's jealous, oh dear, it'll be like pouring LEMON JUICE into Satan's eyes and hell will get unleashed at that unlucky chap. Someone bullied you? WHAT A SHOCKER: A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!!!! Someone constantly hitting on you and keeps on flirting with you? Eyes? gouged out. Organs? Taped and stored away somewhere secretive. Their family members? Dead. Hotel? Trivago (I regret NOTHING)

7. Though Sero is a scary sangwoo when it comes to killing people, he won't behave like a delusional psycho and go on a killing spree. No, he'll have a good and valid reason before killing someone

8. He won't be the type of yandere to kidnap you, that's for sure but he DOES know how to manipulate your feelings so expertly, that YOU'LL be the one asking him not to leave you alone. But, if you get severely hurt or something, he will make preparations to ''take you somewhere safe'' aka. kidnap you so you'll be free from all the dangers of this world. He's the determined type of guy who will never lose his confidence no matter how many times you scream bloody murder and how many times you act up or yell and throw things at him. He's convinced himself that you'll fall for him one day

''Mi amor, you'll be safe with me now~''

#yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere bnha characters x reader #yandere hanta sero #yandere hanta sero x reader #yandere hanta sero headcanons #yandere hanta sero imagines #yandere hanta sero oneshots #yandere hanta sero scenarios

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siremasterlawrence · 1 year ago

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HUMADROID: Five For Five

Mac Maxwell is a young black male living in New York City fell a sleep in his recliner feet up in the air. Toes pointed towards the flash of the television screen the picture roles on and again.

The screen suddenly lights up in a flash of good and silver blows up covering up the room. The light lifts him up into the air as if by any sort of magic shoves him backwards he is colliding with the television.

On impact it swallows him whole entirely it is transferring him in to a new world speeding down in to a magical realm. “Welcome dear friend to my wonderful world of mysticism and pure power.” A voice echoes through the halls.

“This is the world you live in a shit place hell hole of drama, evil and fucking asswipes but here. You can bring your imagination to life what one loses here others can find In spades. What do you think?” The man goes on breathlessly till he is finished.

“What is this place?”

“Heaven on earth or paradise “

“So basically it’s everything “

“Correct!”

“Why am I here?”

“To balance the equation.”

“Take what is yours”

“Make your heaven on earth”

“This will be a journey “

“Don’t bother to figure me out”

“I am and can be your best friend or worst nightmare.”

“Which one will it be?”

“Not my enemy for sure”

“Excellent!”

“Did you just snap that book into existence?”

“One of a million things I can do do”

“Why don’t you browse?”

“The HUMADROID catalogue? Are you in the business of building robots?”

Part 1

The smirks on his face grows widely out of his control pointing into the void as a whirlpool appears. Showcasing multiple video clips of a different guys and couples who have been transforming them into real dolls.

The room spins as he takes a bow flipping the tip of his hate bidding me a due he is backing up fading into the mist of the night and he watches him disappear into the darkness.

Mac stranded in this new world glees with great anticipation exciting within him flow of air current rushes with the descending of a few pods landing on the space pod placed within a grove of patched land inside laid seeds.

The young man greedily goes into series of processes in his new make shift laboratory to make a grand plan in which the scheme will be the likes of which no one else has ever scene and I will unleash in to the world by my orders.

The plants produce a certain color palate in theory that could create a unique hypnotic signature so I intentionally take a year off the grid to study its affects eventually with effort my color b is released to a rousing success.

One day Jamie is passing window shows as he pushes his shopping cart into hollow hall of the mall when one the glass window wow him emitting a multitude of lovely colors like a heat seeking missile the ray zips his eyes contact.

The man immediate struck off his center of gravity frozen in place in front of the window as the colorful display of the giant television screen switches different patterns his eyes match them like clones a ideal match like diamonds.

Soon enough his eyes are now devoid of any life his being completely wiped clean all that is eyes with static grey and colors much like on television and his mind is in endless loop of nothingness ebbing and flowing a new reality.

He was on his way to meet a friend but that is obviously not happening especially when his cell phone screen bings with a sharp resounding sound alerting him to the text but the message goes unanswered his friend.

Across from the mall a few blocks later his friend Ashley pissing off as per usual is off his pit drunk about to take another sip of his beer when his cellphone rings thinking it is Jamie he is about to scream at him but is cut off.

He places the cell phone to his ear hitting him in ear shattering noise sending a chill down his spine he locks in place beer in his hand the glass falls smashing in to the floor breaking in to pieces his mine completely left in shambles.

He is going completely blank in a states of deep shock and surprises his mind goes in to hyperdrive warping super fast holding him back he drops in to a pit of despair free falling endlessly into a bottomless black hole.

While he will join Jaime in just a pit behind his wall man takes a key the wall opens up

a key hole and the key fits perfectly turning the knob as the door swings to the side and he enters walking in he spits Ashley placing his hands on his shoulder.

Rubbing it he helps him up to his feet as he and his new subject walk off mindless into the void and Ashley is locked in the second pod next to his pal but being reprogrammed for service and I could not be happier with the outcome.

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you might see it a night in the pod will do him just right in deepening my full on permanent control over his being inside

and out with no to rescue him but me he

is in for a treat.

As his body lay in status over the night I let the headphones place on his face by robot hands firmly and strategic held as the visor programs begin to project into his mind a laser forces his way to his mind in a heavy stream.

Ear buds slips into his ears like a radio the songs are blasting into his ears are playing so hard pumping reprogramming music on and on his voice quiets inside nothing else will ever matter.

The pods go dumb turning completely black encased in a seal of clear glass both of the are sinking into the ground below they will be indoctrinated into a life of us the robot mindless obedience.

Part 2

Nick Pickard is enjoying an early morning in the heat of the night barbecue burning so bright he is unaware of the sparks flying high above the area catching hold of the place.

The room lights up catching fire he trapping him instinctively he hits the wall hard as he crushes a bit the fire blocks him in a sea of chaos the fire reaches the brim of the roof exploding.

The kids of Nick Pickard arriving far to late watching the remains of what was there ex father they lose it bursting in to tears they both collapse from heat exhaustion and faint.

Ian, Glen and Nick feet are grabbed yanking them in to the grass they are dragging in to the grass and thrown in to a nearby pit of epic proportions in an endless sea of white steam.

The next three pods open welcoming them in a deep heavy thud they soon wake up as the top of the roof closes on them locking no rather sealing them in place for what is to come.

“Where am I? Hello?”

“Dad? Why are we here?”

“Dad? “

“Is he in a state of trance?”

“Hypnotized”

“Master? Come and get me”

“Master? Dad are you ok?”

“Obey him”

“You most obey Master”

“Mmmmmmm”

“That hum”

“I can’t stop”

“I’m humming too”

“Mmmmm”

“I can’t think”

“My mind is blocked”

“Am I hard?”

“Rock hard “

“Oh God.”

The end

#Jamie Lomas #Ashley Taylor Dawson #Nick Pickard #Adam Woodward #Danny Mac #fire #barbecue #forest #television #static #hypnosis #gay mind control #radio #vr

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themurderofcrowscollective · 2 years ago

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The best times of the Batfamily.

I can't draw for shit but I can describe to great detail of something I have in my mind, and right now, I'm thinking of wholesome shit again. - Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian falling into a waterfall together with Jason holding Damian and Tim by the waist in both of his arms like sacks of potatoes. There's a look of clear fear and horror on Tim's face, Damian is surprisingly laughing and Dick is pulling a pose in mid-air. - Cass, Steph and Barbara having a girls' night while the men are away. Steph is singing her heart out with a karaoke machine, Cass is clapping along and Barbara is laughing because fun. - Bruce and Damian playing the violin together. Damian is focused but he can't help but smile while Bruce is smiling a lot more. Alfred is glad that the two have something to do together than just be Batman and Robin. - Cass dancing with Dick while Tim plays the piano. It's great to watch too. - Halloween Dinner. A feast where everyone is dressed in their halloween costumes, eating food that is themed to look like brains and eyeballs which happens right before the Wayne kids unleash hell upon the city of Gotham. It's never a dull night on Halloween. And yes, Bruce dresses up but not as Batman, he tends to pick the Headless Horseman sometimes. - Thanksgiving Shenanigans. Before the actual feast, the kids go out to goof off and destroy Dick's piles of autumn leaves. Dick has a face of 'why? every year?' before he gets dragged into the pile. There's also a picture of Jason dumping leaves out of his helmet onto an unexpecting Damian who's reading. - Movie night with Tim, Jason and Duke. An unexpected trio but they do like their comedies and animated movies. There's also always an insane amount of popcorn. - Alfred catching Tim, Cass and Damian in the middle of the night with bags worth of food and snacks. They were sneaking back in after everyone went to sleep, but Alfred kept their secret. - Jason reading with Damian in the library. Bruce joins them a few minutes later with cups of tea and some snacks. Perfect reading session. - The Wayne family visiting the Kent family. Ma and Pa talk with Alfred, Clark and Bruce talk amongst themselves while the batkids are having fun or talking. Damian is in heaven with the many cows around him. - The night after a long day. Everyone is asleep together in a pile, even including Bruce. Alfred also dozed off on one of the couches. - Tim, Cass and Steph performing a ritual with coffee beans, coffee mugs and coffee pots with a Damian in the center. They were trying to exorcise him but he wasn't having any of it. Jason is in the background with a tub of grounded coffee beans, eating it with a spoon, and Dick is laying face-first on the ground. Duke is nowhere to be seen. This is what happens when you leave the house to the kids for a week. Alfred went with Bruce for a trip, by the way.

#batfam #batfamily #batfamily headcanons #batdad #pretty sure dick was knocked out via coffee pot #duke was actually in the attic with a nerf gun for self-defense cause everyone was going loopy #barbara was supposed to watch them all but dick convinced her not to #jason was second in command but that ended up horribly #batkids #batfam headcanons

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st6rly · 4 months ago

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hello sir it seems you have stolen something from me yeah my heart i would like to formally request it back but while trying to mail off this letter i ended up falling down three flights of stairs on the way out the door and the first thing i saw when i went down and all the papers started flying everywhere was your name and address and picture. i sincerely hope that you can afford to repay the damages you’ve done to me mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. i take payments in money, clothing, dinners that you may or may not want to call dates, letting me ruffle your hair, stealing your clothing, etc. etc. please note that id like this payment to be made ASAP and will not be waiting around for confirmation. i prefer seeing or over doing in which you do me i mean what no sir that’s not fun. while sending this letter, after falling down my stairs, i came across the mail box however when i went to out my letter in, my hand became stuck inside of it. i had to sit there for hours until he mail man came to unleash from that hell and while on my walk home, i tripped again. as it would turn out i forgot to put the last wanted photo of you inside the envelope, still having it in my hand. laying on the pavement, i ended up being face to face with you. it is in that moment that i realized i had truly, and most of embarrassing of all, fallen.

#! sol.txt

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chronicrabbit · 2 years ago

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Ok, here’s my thing.

I don’t think Eddie and Billy would’ve been friends as is.

Similar music taste isn’t enough to bridge that gap.

But I /do/ think if Billy survived season 3 and got his chance to heal and improve himself, they could’ve gotten there eventually.

Billy spends months in the hospital, doped up on pain killers.

Max is there, or course. She brings her walkman and Billy’s tapes so he can have something to ease the mind numbing boredom.

They work hard to form some sort of sibling bond.

It’s not easy, but they do it.

It’s hard to avoid after going through something Upside Down related.

By the time he’s well enough to go home, Neil is already out of the picture.

They move to Forest Hills, into the trailer right across from the Munson’s.

Billy refuses Max’s offer of the second bedroom.

He takes the couch, carves out a space for himself in the cramped living room.

His attitude is still shitty, he’s still rude and angry and hard to talk to, but he isn’t mean for the sake of mean-ness.

His chronic pain dulls the need to swing a punch. It hurts too much to try.

El takes to calling a good deal. She, Max, and Billy have conversations over Cerebro every week that seem to do something for him.

He doesn’t smile; not really.

But he’s noticeably less miserable after their talks.

Billy gets a job to help Susan with the bills.

He hides her booze and he gives her someone to be angry at over Neil, and eventually, after a lot of screaming and crying and really really rough nights, they find some common ground.

It’s a far cry from a mother and son relationship, but it’s something they both needed.

Fall of ‘85 rolls around, and Max is starting her Freshman year, Billy his Senior.

Billy doesn’t verbally offer to drive, just nods towards the car and climbs into the drivers side.

They’ve settled into an odd sort of push and pull.

Max starts a conversation tentatively, Billy answers, usually with grunts or non verbal cues.

The first time he answers back with more than one syllable, they’re on their way to pick up his pain meds.

Billy turns the volume on the radio up a notch, not blaring, just loud enough to appreciate the guitar solo.

“Is this Metallica?” Max prompts with a careful sideways glance.

Billy’s lips tilt upwards with a barely noticeable smile as he utters a soft:

“It’s the Scorpions, Shitbird.”

Max can’t help the smile that stretches across her face, because there he is.

He’s still Billy.

From that day on, there’s a noticeable shift in their dynamic.

Suddenly, they’re siblings. Real ones.

They aren’t soft and supportive like Will and Jonathan, or reluctantly close and annoying like Mike and Nancy.

They argue, they bitch, they hurl insults, they mock each other, But if anyone raises even a harsh word to the other, they’re right there to unleash hell upon the unlucky shmuck.

And that doesn’t just extend to Max; the entire party, weirdly, ends up under Billy’s prickly protection as well.

Entering into the school year, it only takes one run in with the ex Alpha of Hawkins High for the jocks and would be bullies to get the message:

“These nerds are OFF LIMITS.”

From an outsiders perspective, the groups strangeness is undeniable, strangeness that attracts one Eddie Munson, collector of oddities.

Eddie, clocking the Weird Al tee, the nerdy speech, and general dorky vibe of the entire party, immediately swoops in and takes them under his wing.

Mind, he was never friends with Billy. He’d hardly spoken to him past the typical:

“You got the stuff?”

“You got the cash?”

But Billy had never given him too much trouble.

He’d known better than to antagonize Hawkins High’s one and only dealer.

But Eddie could tell he’d changed since the Mall fire of ‘85. He was quieter, broodier, and all around… less.

He didn’t strut the halls like he used to; like a caged lion, hungry for a meal.

He kept mostly to himself.

Took notes and worked quietly in class, ate lunch in his car with Max and, very occasionally and confusingly, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler.

Eddie had even spotted him talking with Steve Harrington, once.

Talking, not peacocking, posturing, or punching as he would’ve expected.

Eddie was nosy by nature. Call it a character flaw, but when he saw something that puzzled him, he needed to get his hands on it; to work it, piece it together, and figure it out.

Billy Hargrove was a 200 piece puzzle with no picture, and he was determined to put it together.

He starts small, bringing Billy up in passing during cleanup post-Hellfire, trying his best to sound casual, though given the look from Gareth he assumes it wasn’t quite there.

“So… Hargrove. What’s his deal?”

Ok.

Subtlety was not his forte.

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas share significant looks, looks tinged with uncertainty and secrecy and Eddie is itching for a piece of this puzzle.

“What do you mean?” Dustin asks robotically.

“What do I mean?” Eddie repeats with a scoff.

“You’ve got the California Keg King as a personal guard dog, and you ask me what do I mean.”

Another glance is shared between the three, this one a bit more… wary.

Interesting.

“My, uh, girlfriend is his sister,” Lucas shrugs as if this is somehow answer enough.

Not even close.

“No, I get that,” Eddie nods, because he knows Red is his stepsister. He’d overheard Billy bitching endlessly about her in the year prior.

Now they’re not only tolerant of each other but attached at the hip?

“Level with me,” Eddie requests, leaning against the arm of his throne.

“Is this to do with the fire?”

That question garners an interesting reaction; shifting eyes and nervous shuffling.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Eddie loved being right.

Mike, as usual, was the first to speak.

“We were there that night,” he says simply, and Eddie’s grin falls from his face.

He lowers himself into his seat and nods slowly for him to continue.

“One of our friends was injured, so Billy…”

He hesitates, brow pinched and nose wrinkled as if he’s reliving the memory.

“Billy saved her,” Lucas finishes for him, looking markedly uncomfortable at the topic.

“Got badly injured in the process.”

“So that’s why you’re all buddy buddy with him now?” Grant speaks up from the sidelines.

“We’re not buddy buddy,” Lucas scoffs, crossing his arms.

“We tolerate each other due to shared trauma., but we’re not friends.”

Jeff nods grimly at Lucas’s words with an understanding Eddie couldn’t quite grasp if he’d tried.

The conversation ended there as they walked to the lot.

A single puzzle piece in place with 199 to go.

‘Maybe two pieces,’ Eddie thinks as he watches the three of them approach a blue Camaro, Hargrove and Mayfield leaning against the hood.

His joy at piecing together more of the mystery dies as Steve Harrington’s BMW pulls up beside them, the boys climbing into it instead.

‘What the fuck?’

#stranger things fic #billy hargrove #billy lives #Eddie Munson #stranger things ficlet #billy hargrove deserved better

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sylviegunpla · 5 months ago

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Gunpla: Completed Collection of Minis Part 1: EFSF Alliance

Here's all the minis i've painted over the past few months!! They are as complete as they're gonna get and also top-coated and everything now. Let's run down the list under the cut! I've also rephotographed them on a matt that has scale, and using a ringlight. Each square on the matte is half-centimeter square, to appreciate the tiny scale of these guys. You'll notice that i have some duplicate figures above. Various people have gifted me some figs, so you can also see the evolution of my mini painting techniques in some of them. Because of tumblr post image limits, i'm splitting this up into multiple galleries. I will start with a gallery of minis associated with the "EFSF" (Earth Federation Space Force) group from the Gundam series.

PG Unleashed RX-78-2: Amuro Ray and Sayla Mass

I've already posted these guys but let's ass some scale, for fun.

I don't have much new to say about these guys, except that they were the first figures i painted in my "second run" of figure painting. I'll go into more detail about this later. I painted them and the others according to the color guide provided in the manual, as best i could. I think Sayla's collar badges could be done better and tbh, i can still fix that. I'll give an update if i do. Anyway, this kit came with TWO pilot figurines that sit inside the core fighter / cockpit. I present to you images of them in their homes:

This also serves as a preview for some parts of the PGU! I don't believe i made a post yet about the final build. I still need to do that, as well as edit the VODs of the build (the painting was also done on camera! ... mostly. I did some touchups off camera). This is the core fighter, and if you want you can put it inside the mobile suit, but there's no reason to. So i prefer to have it displayed outside, because there's a separate "core block" that you can also put inside the gundam, and it also has its own pilot!

Let's move on. I have many more Amuros for you. But first, a diversion! (EDIT: Turns out tumblr posts can only have 30 images at once. I was originally going to put Tobia Arronax here, but then i wouldn't be able to include the full set of EFSF characters here. So go check out the first entry of the part 2 post here: https://www.tumblr.com/sylviegunpla/753409506351939584/gunpla-completed-collection-of-minis-part-2 and then come back to this post)

MG 2.0 RX-78-2: Amuro Ray

This is the civilian outfit Amuro from the MG 2.0 kit. This was one of the "first runs" of minis i painted, i think in Fall 2023. I was convinced i could panel line it and make it look good. Honestly it looks fine at a distance but with the details blown up... well you can see it's a mess. Still, not bad for an early work. The rightmost image is when it was WIP, before being panel lined. TBH that might have looked better if i kept it that way, but you live and learn! This kit also had a pilot outfit figure:

This was also one of my early paints. Here you can see the panel line colors just running wild. I think the civilian outfit has less bleed at least. The helmet is also messy as hell. And as for the pilot that sits in the core fighter... well the actual model kit is currently disassembled for painting, but i can show you the pilot figurine.

Once i finish the MG 2.0 RX-78-2, i'll include an additional picture here. {NOTE TO SELF: INCLUDE PILOT IN COCKPIT PHOTO LATER}

I still have yet more Amuros though! At a local build jam, i've been gifted some minis that people don't want to paint. I got two extra figures of Amuro Ray, that match the sculpt above. I'm not sure if they're from the MG 2.0 or the MG 3.0 RX-78-2, but i referenced the color guide specifically from MG 3.0 for these. I also painted them this year, so you can begin to see the difference. Why not get the extra practice in, ya know? The biggest differences between my old minis and the more recently painted ones are two fold: 1) I started properly thinning my paints (which i did for the PGU figures, they were the first of the "new" line). 2) Eventually, i began using a pair of binocular magnifying goggles i could wear on my head, giving me a better ability to see mini details. I think the difference speaks for themselves:

For the one on top, i did a basic paint with flat coat, no panel lining or anything. Since i had two, why not experiment a bit. THe second one, i coated it in Mr Super Clear Gloss and then used some Citadel Paints Nuln Oil (gifted from a friend who's into warhammer) to achieve the "panel lining" / "shading". I think it turned out okay ultimately. I think the nuln oil works as a better panel liner over the super clear than some other pigments i've used, but it depends on the technique and precision involved. Oh yeah, and all these based were also custom made. Here's all 3 standing together!

Lookit those boys!!

MG Hi-ν (Hi-Nu) Ver. Ka: Amuro Ray

I think he's supposed to be older than in the previous kits here? You can see i opted NOT to panel line this boy... well except the line down his back which imo kinda turned out not that great looking. I probably could have used some nuln oil to highlight some of his facial details and give the impression of having eyes. ANd then here is the pilot figurine:

I'll get pictures of this kit entirely in a separate post, too. Right now the kit is disassembled and i need to re-assemble it. It's not a "WIP" kit, the kit itself is all done, got water slide decals, even has the "Heavy Weapons System" setup. Here, i DID use nuln oil, to try to highlight some of the suit details. I'm not sure if the lighting is blown out here, but it's also accurate to say that the suit details didn't come out as nicely highlighted as i'd wanted them to. Still, he's gonna live inside a clear green plastic sphere once he goes inside, so it won't be easy to see anyway.

BONUS: Watch this boy get Cask of Amontillado'd (and additional pics) I have to admit, sometimes when painting i'm having trouble finding the actual details through a layer of paint. I suspect the Mr. Hobby Aqueous Line may not be as useful for hand painting tiny boys like this, but it's also the set of paints i decided to slowly acquire over multiple years, so it's what i'm using. The Citadel acrylic paints seem to not glob up as much.

MG RB-79 "Ball" Ver. Ka: EFSF Workers

These boys were also among some of my earlier paints in 2023. You can see i globbed up some paint on one of the faces and kinda ruined it. I think the panel lining is mostly okay, but yeah. This kit also didn't have a color guide, so i basically eyeballed the colors. This kit is also one of the ones i have fully disassembled in the process of painting, so the whole build will eventually be its own post too. This thing also has a pilot figurine that lives inside the ball. I took some pictures highlighting the pilot, but i haven't applied decals to the inner ball yet.

However, i did get some duplicates of the standing workers from someone at one of the first build jams i went to! Which i used as an opportunity to just... get more practice, and try to paint these guys again.

Here, i used slightly different shades of yellow and orange. I think the details stand out a lot more. I also used nuln oil here for the shading. I think overall these look a lot better than my first attempt, and i'm rather proud of them. I'll have four workers able to hang out with the Ball once it's completed! This concludes Part 1 of my minis gallery. Continue to Part 2 by Clicking This Link!

#gunpla #gundam #bandai #RX-78-2 #RB-79 #EFSF #amuro ray #sayla mass #Hi nu #mini painting #plamo #perfect grade unleashed #PG unleashed #MG #master grade #PGU #ver ka

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forallyourikemensengokuneeds · 1 year ago

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Can you please put a spoiler tag on your posts? Or put the images under a readmore? Not all of us want to see an image that isn't even out in the English app. I think cybird prohibits posting the full CG on social media. Thank you.

And there is always *that* person. Since I know how this wonderful fandom works and I can see my account being reported in mass again because of a picture because someone is not happy let me explain a few things.

I post what I think people would like. As you stated there is a difference in the JP and EN apps. I don’t play the EN app anymore because of the fandom at large and well people here. I only play the JP or Ta ones. (Still find it hilarious that people don’t realize the reality of their own actions) I spent the good part of three years dealing with people who were mean and callous and if you didn’t fall into their group think or dared to say their favorite wasn’t something you like oh freaking hell Canceled.

It is why I walked away and cut ties with people. I guess with age comes wisdom to realize none of this was worth it. The reality of doing this type of comment with the veiled threat(which btw they aren’t the FULL cg) Is entitled to the max and again not worth MY time. So I won’t post any extras. Im cool with that.

Also don’t try and deny it wasn’t a threat. It was and you know it. So either you are new to fandom or you don’t know me cause I don’t back down from them and I have had the crazy unleashed in me before and well I am still here and the other person is not. There is a block button block me. Please dear god block me. I would block you but yeah anon.

However nonnie you better have the same freaking energy with making comments to all the jp players who do translations, the people who have their shops making money off of their artwork off of these characters, and anyone who does any transactions with these characters. I posted a picture, not even the full ones, from one half of the game. I also don’t charge anything.

So yeah. Thanks again for showing me why I left in the first place and why I moved on. Have the week you deserve.

Everyone else….. sorry but Nonnie doesn’t want to see the pics from the JP game. I mean there is only a few months difference on most story games now but you know their feelings should always come first since the fandom is theirs and only theirs.

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikémen sengoku #ikésen #fandom #anon

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league-of-sam · 1 year ago

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Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER SIX

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

What the others hadn't realised, is that you'd finished your shower ages ago, and were now sitting at the bottom of the stairs in your shorts and hoodie.

Hair still wet, you leant on your knees with the polaroid in hand, hidden in the shadows.

"He killed them?" Price said, standing again.

"Apparently, he'd been given orders to shoot on the building, and mistook (Y/N) telling Sergeant Stevens to go as permission to fire."

"That's fucking ridiculous, why the hell wasn't he investigated?"

"The orders were from Shepherd."

"Did you know about this?" Price said, now pointing a finger at Alex.

"What? N-no, she never said-"

Price cut him off, seething, "You're her best friend, how did you not know about this?"

"That's hardly fair, Captain."

"What else, Laswell? That video was half-done." Gaz questioned.

"That was four months ago. We sent her out on another intel collective, solo. She said she was okay, but we had back up waiting...it was too late."

Laswell reopened the laptop, hitting play once again.

They watched as your bodycam caught your every move. You'd burst into a hideout, face masked, and completely unleashed all fury on the poor souls in the room.

By the end, you were covered in blood, breathing heavily, silently sobbing for your dead comrades.

You'd completely lost control and showed everyone exactly why you were known as the Reaper.

"She had a mandated two months' therapy, and that's when she and Graves called it off. He'd told her she should have been clearer, and it was her fault he missed the instruction."

Price rubbed his face, standing and walking into the kitchen.

Poor Rudy was holding onto Alejandro, trying not to throw up at the gruesome sights on the screen. Alex was white as a sheet; he knew you were good. Hell, he'd seen you kill plenty of times before, but that...that was terrifying.

Now the entire team knew your darkest secret, now they knew why you didn't want to be Reaper anymore.

The team was still dead silent, but once again, Ghost had clocked you.

That man was never not on edge, and after seeing that, guilt ate him from the inside.

He watched as you stared vacantly at the picture.

It was like you were hollow, and he knew that feeling all too well.

"It was my fault." You said softly.

Your voice startled the room.

Everyone turned to see you still sat, looking at the polaroid, and Price came rushing from the kitchen, crouching in front of you.

"I should have been better. I should have been clearer. It was my fault."

"Look at me, (Y/N), please," Price begged, resting his hands on your knees, "that was not your fault."

"But look what I did," you laughed bitterly, "killed my team, went psycho on another. I'm not safe."

"Is that why you've been so gruelling in trainin'? Trying to prove to yourself you can keep us safe?" he asked, and you nodded as the tears began falling. "Is that why you won't wear the mask in training?"

"I d-don't want to hurt any of you, I don't wanna lose control. I'm scared of who I am when I'm Reaper."

Price's head fell, trying to stop his own tears, not wanting to show such emotion in front of his team.

Your fingers picked at the picture, until a body blocked the light coming from the living room.

You looked up to see Ghost, who held out his hand silently.

Hesitating, you handed him the polaroid, and his gloved fingers tenderly brushed yours as he took it.

"You're not dangerous, (Y/N). You know that." Laswell said.

"Tell that to them!" you said, standing abruptly and gesturing to the group of men behind her, "They couldn't look more scared of me if they tried."

"We're not scared of ye, lass." Soap said.

"No?"

"Well, yes." Soap laughed, "But only in the way that we know not to cross ye."

"There's not a thing in this world you could do to make me scared of you, angel." Alex added, and the others nodded in agreement.

"Besides," Soap said, coming over to you, leaning in to whisper to you. "We've seen Ghost do so much worse, and he's a big softy under all that, even if he tries to hide it."

You let out a watery laugh then, a somewhat relieving sound for every person in the room. One by one, arms opened, embracing you tightly.

As you hugged Alejandro, Ghost made eye contact with you over his shoulder, and the two of you shared a nod.

The sound of your stomach grumbling broke up the loving atmosphere, and the boys immediately set to work in making you comfortable on the sofa, all of them rushing into the kitchen to make you food.

You giggled, and hugged Laswell, as she wiped the remnants of your tears.

"Trust them, okay honey?" she whispered. "They love you and they care."

"I know."

"I'll see you in a couple days, and I want you back in that mask by then, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am." you smiled.

You bid her a final goodbye as she left, the others still arguing in the kitchen.

Sitting down, you made yourself comfortable on the sofa, pulling out your mask and your polaroid, looking to them side by side.

"I know you're still there, Ghost." You spoke quietly, not to disturb the others in the kitchen.

"You really are improvin', aren't ya?" he said, moving out of the corner to stand near you.

"Fuck you."

He scoffed, but humouredly.

You didn't mean it, this time.

Looking up at him, you shuffled over, tapping the space next to you.

"Sit, please. Your height is kind of intimidating."

"Didn't seem to care for it when you were ripping me a new one earlier." He grumbled, but sat down next you, nonetheless.

"Yeah, well. I was mad." You laughed.

"You don't say."

"Wow, sarcasm? Lieutenant Ghost has a sense of humour?"

"I make jokes."

"When?"

"Sometimes. Ask Soap."

You let out a puff of air through your nose, looking over to him and smiling, "Well, thank you for letting me see that side of you."

When you said that, Ghost felt a little pang in his chest.

No one had ever thanked him for being vulnerable, and this was about as vulnerable as it got with Ghost. Maybe this was how it felt to be trusted. He was sure that if you hadn't wanted them to know about you, you'd had stopped it the minute you appeared.

He hadn't taken his eyes off you for the whole video. He got all he needed to know from the look on your face.

"Who were they?" he asked, handing the picture back to you.

You smiled, and apprehensively scooted a little closer.

When Ghost didn't recoil in horror or move away, you continued, "Well, there's me. That's Stevens. Then you have Orlando, Bradshaw, Machin, and Trace."

Ghost listened intently, staring at you as your mouth moved, telling little stories about your old team.

The picture in question was taken the year before, at Christmas. Your squad had been sent out to aid refugees escaping Iran. You were in the desert, tinsel wrapped around your guns, Santa hats in full display. You were in the middle, smiling widely, and the others matched you. Few small children clung to your legs or were playing around at your feet.

"Christmas used to be my favourite holiday. We always did something together, always made an effort to dress up and keep the joy alive."

"Me too."

"You, Ghost, favoured Christmas over everything else?" you teased, surprised.

"I used to."

"Why not now?"

The way he tensed up, shuffling from you and clearing his throat, told you that your question had offended him. You frowned, stuttering a little as you tried to find the words to say.

"S-sorry I...um, anyway, yeah. Just before we took this, Trace and Bradshaw had been chasing the kids..."

He only had his balaclava on now, and his gaze was intense as he listened to you continue. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but tried to ignore as you continued your stories.

What neither of you had realised, was that Alex had quickly noticed the closeness, and almost pulled ears off the men in the room as he dragged them to the opening in the wall.

"That's the millionth time in two weeks I've caught him looking at her like that." He whispered.

"Like wha'?" Soap said, a mouthful of bread forcing his words out loudly.

"Shhh!"

"God damn it, Johnny, shut up." Price said, "what you thinking, sergeant?"

"I'm thinking, the big bad Ghost has a crush on your little sister."

"I think she likes him too by the look on her face." Alejandro added, with Rudy nodding vigorously.

"Ghost and (Y/N)? No way." Soap said.

"Sorry Soap," Gaz said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "not sure you'll get a chance in now."

Before anyone could make another comment, your laugh sounded beautifully from the living room.

You had your head thrown back, hands over your face as you giggled hysterically from whatever Ghost had said, who was also chuckling away.

The men smiled; it was nice to see you happy.

"He made her laugh. But his jokes are god-awful!"

"Better yet, he's laughing. I have never heard Simon Riley laugh." Price uttered.

The boys had waited on you hand and foot for the rest of the night, asking you to tell stories of your team, and anything else to get to know you more.

You were the most comfortable you had been in months, and finally felt completely accepted in the group.

As usual, as soon as everyone re-entered the room, Ghost retreated into the back of the crowd, but you didn't mind.

It felt like maybe, you'd finally got somewhere with him.

Now, you sat on the sofa, leaning up against Alex's chest, and your legs were propped up over Soap's lap, and he was absentmindedly tracing small shapes on your skin as you all chatted away.

"I have one more question." Soap said, and you rolled your eyes, amused while the others groaned.

"What's up, Soap?"

"What- and don't take this the wrong way- but what's a girl like you doing engaged to Phillip Graves?"

"Mind your words, hermano." Alejandro grumbled, but you put a hand up to stop him.

"Nah, it's alright. He's right. I wasted three years of my life with that arsehole. I deserve better than to be told I'm not good enough."

"That you do, love." Price said, leaning over the back of the sofa to place a small kiss on your forehead.

"He cheated, too, so that's always nice."

"What?" Alex exclaimed, sitting you up.

You turned, now tucked under Soap's arm.

"Yeah. Found out last month that he'd been fucking one of the nurses on the medical ward for the last three months of our relationship, and now they're dating."

"Well, he's a bloody moron for treating you like that."

"Thanks, Gaz." You smiled, "S'alright, just didn't do much for the ol' self-esteem."

"Well, if it's any consolation, we all think you are extremadamente hermosa. (extremely beautiful.)" Alejandro added.

You blushed, nodding in thanks, averting your eyes to your hands, where you twiddled your thumbs nervously, hands rising to play with the dog tags dangling on your neck.

"Thanks for being so accepting." You said quietly.

"We've all done bad things, who are we to judge ye?" Soap answered, squeezing you softly.

You smiled, leaning up to place a small kiss on his cheek, giggling at his shocked expression as his hand traced the space your lips were.

You stood, giving everyone else their own kiss goodnight, before hugging Price, and making your way upstairs.

You heard the others shortly follow, laughing as they mocked Soap for how hard he'd blushed.

You were about to slip into bed, exhausted from the day, when a knock so quiet you weren't 100% sure you'd heard it came from the other side of the door.

Placing your book down, you skipped over, opening it gently to see the last person you'd expected.

"G-ghost...uh, hey."

"You forgot this." He said shortly, holding out your mask and your polaroid.

"Oh, uh, thank you."

Taking the items from his hands, once again your fingers brushed against each other, and you leaned against the door, waiting as he refused to meet your gaze.

"You, uh, I... Welcome to the 141."

You smiled, knowing that that was probably the closest you'd get to an apology from the man.

At least he was trying.

Instead of answering, you decided to push your luck once more, and stepped forward. The man was almost a whole foot taller than you, and so you had to raise yourself onto your tiptoes as much as possible.

With one hand on his shoulder, you leaned in, placing a soft kiss onto his covered cheek.

"Goodnight, Ghost."

When you pulled away, you noticed his body was stiff, and frowned a little, but the way his eyes were contently closed told you that maybe, he didn't mind it.

You stepped back, moving to close your door, and then he spoke so quietly that you almost didn't catch it when he muttered to you, releasing a long breath.

"Call me Simon."

"Okay." You whispered back, nibbling your lip, "Goodnight, Simon."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

Closing your door slowly, you leaned against it, releasing a breath, and clutching the items to your chest.

Maybe being on a task force with the infamous Ghost wasn't so bad, after all.

And maybe, you were starting to understand all the rumours about how hot he was without even seeing his face.

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