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ohdeerfully · 8 months ago

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HEYY HIII i finally gave some attention to this fic! this will be the final part, so i wrote in some semi sweet fluffiness between reader and al <3 kisses kisses hugs love you all!

Your Half of the Deal (iii)(Final)

Alastor x Reader

part i part ii part iii

TW: kidnapping, violence, alastor ooc probably... oh whale

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You had lost track of the time spent in that room, a near constant headache thrumming in your head due to the deep bass that you now knew resonated from the club just beyond the door. Every now and then you would recognize the faint tune of a familiar pop song—Angel often took you out to bars to escape from the Hotel—and let yourself enjoy the recognition, humming along. It was truly the only thing you could do with yourself.

You humored yourself with the thought of who your knight in shining armor may be, if one ever came. Would it be Alastor? Finally holding up his half of your soul bargain? Or maybe even Angel, stumbling across you in a bender with Cherri? Or even an unrelated third party that wouldn’t even recognize you; surely the Vee’s have made enough enemies to warrant somebody saving you just to get back at them. No matter who crossed your mind, you couldn’t get your hopes up. You were certain it hadn’t been days in here, but it had been long enough that you were starting to convince yourself nobody was coming.

You may just have to save yourself.

Due to the constant struggle against the metal restraints that chained you to the bed, your wrists had begun to blister and scab, sending dull waves of sensitive pain through your arms. Vox often visited, putting on a face of care and concern, but you knew better than to trust him. All Overlords had to be manipulative to get their way, and Vox was no exception—in fact, he may just be the worst of the worst (not including Alastor). He offered various times to help you dress the wounds on your arms, but you returned his gestures by hissing insults and lunging for that oversized television he had for a head. He kept trying, though, and each attempt at playing nice made you feel all the more crazy and violent.

Speak of the devil, you thought with a frown as the door opened, briefly casting multicolored lights and a blare of loud music into the room before it was quickly silenced by the click of the door closing again. You subconsciously leaned towards the exit, desperately wanting to escape.

The tall, flat-faced demon strode in, head held high with, in your opinion, undeserved confidence. He was a coward. You fucking hated cowards. You let your lips curl into a sneer as he stopped a foot away from you, peering down with his own curled smirk.

“You’ll get an infection,” Vox referred to your wrists. This shit again? You clenched your fists. “Please, let me treat them. It’s the least I could–”

“Man fuck off with that shit!” You snapped, leaning forward. You bared your fangs at him, tail lashing. “The least you could do is let me the fuck out! I’m fuckin’ hungry!”

Vox’s smile grew wider, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He took a breath in through his teeth, trying to remain polite. He sat down next to you, the mattress dipping with his weight. You took extreme care to not let yourself fall towards him from the unexpected shift.

Despite every bone in your body wanting to lunge in attack like usual, you held back. Truthfully you knew it was futile, you just enjoyed the rush you got from just trying to fight back. This time, though, you wanted to see if you could get any information about your current situation out of him. Maybe it would help you escape.

“You know we can’t let you out,” He said in a condescendingly sweet tone. He reached a hand out and placed it on your shoulder, digging his claws into your shirt and nearly into your skin when you tried to jerk away. You got the hint. “What better way to get to that out-dated Overlord than taking away his favorite toy?”

“I’m not a toy,” You said through clenched teeth. While you doubted this fact yourself, you would never admit it. Not to Vox. The smile he gave you in return was akin to an adult looking down on a naive child. It made your blood boil, and the internal battle you were having to not fly into attack mode was getting harder and harder. All the while you were talking, you kept analyzing him, looking for any semblance to a key, or anything that may serve as a lockpick. Whether to your restraints or even to the door, either would bring you one step closer to getting out.

There was no doubt he recognized what you were doing—he was an Overlord, not a fool. Maybe he didn’t expect you to be much of a challenge, or to get very far, as he made no move to avert your prying eyes. If anything, it was like he was asking you to try, what with the way he shifted in such a way that you noticed the slight imprint of a key in his pocket. You tried your best to act indifferent. How the hell were you going to get that?

“Could you at least let me out for a moment to piss?” You kept up the attitude, but slumped your shoulders to look defeated and averted your eyes to the floor. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his smile grow, a cheshire-like grin as if he was watching a mouse play right into his trap. And you didn’t doubt you were, Vox would never be so careless as to reveal the presence of a key unless it was on purpose. It didn’t matter to you, though, because you resolved to just be stronger than he expected you to be. He was underestimating you.

“Oh, but of course! No wonder you’ve been so snippy,” He joked, idly picking up the chain that was attached to the wall with a finger as he spoke. He shifted his hand over towards your wrists, gripping them just barely hard enough to send a wave of sensitive pain through your hand. You grit your teeth and bore back any recognition of the pain as he continued to fiddle with your chains.

He produced a key from his coat pocket. This must mean that the key in his pants pocket was for the door… which, if everything goes fine, would be perfect. Without your restraints, you only had to worry about getting the fuck out of here.

Relief swelled through your wrists when the clasps fell away from your skin, fresh air soothing your raw skin. You allowed yourself a second to tenderly press your fingers against the blisters, wincing at the sting it caused. You shook your hands out in front of you and stood, watching Vox out of the corner of your eye. He stood and offered his arm to you; although, you knew it was less of an offer and more of a command. He wouldn’t let you out of here if he couldn’t hold on to you.

You slowly slipped your arm through the curve of his elbow, linking yourself to him. You allowed yourself to mentally vomit at the contact, but held your expression steady and calm as he led you out. Maybe causing a scene in public will help? Honestly doubtful—you were in Hell, after all, and demons were much too intimidated by the technology Overlord. Maybe someone you know will just so happen to be here?

Thoughts and plans raced through your mind, but none seemed plausible. At this point, you thought it was just best to throw yourself at him even if it got you nowhere. It might do you good to get some energy out at the very least.

Your senses were immediately overwhelmed when he opened the door; bright, flashing neon lights and the deep booming bass of music swamped over you. You were no stranger to this type of scene, but after being locked up in a deathly quiet room for some time… a headache was quick to come.

Swiftly taking in the scene before you, you desperately searched for some semblance of familiarity within the sea of people as Vox led you against the wall towards the restroom. You didn’t see anybody that you knew, but caught a few curious eyes, no doubt over the fact that you were basically holding Vox’s hand. You wished you could cast out some mental signal that you did not want to be this close to the Overlord and beg demons not to get the wrong idea.

Your attention was brought back when Vox’s arm fell away from yours, and you realized you were standing in front of the restroom. You cast him a quick look before quickly dashing into the room, thankful to finally have a chance away from him without shackles on your arms. You rested your hands on the lip of the sink, heaving a shaky breath and looking absently at the drain, tracing the pattern of the speckles of undrained water that clung to the porcelain. You tried not to let it get to you, especially not in his presence, but being so close to the Technology Overlord made every nerve in your body blaze with anxiety.

Flipping the faucet on, you let the lukewarm water run over your bruised wrists. Times like this you wished Hell had the convenience of cold tapwater, but the water nevertheless did the job of soothing your skin. You watched the water blankly for a minute, mind lost in thought over your situation. The gentle warmth of the water almost sent you into a trancelike state, and you were likely to get stuck there for a few moments just enjoying it if it wasn’t for a loud banging at the door and an impatient voice calling for you. You snapped back a retort about him rushing you, but you still turned off the faucet and dried your hands.

With a quick glance at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself a resolute and firm look before leaving the restroom. You could do this.

You flung open the door, not taking time to observe Vox’s somewhat surprised look as his fist was still raised to continue knocking on the door. You made a mad dash past him, ducking under claws that swung at your shirt collar in an attempt to yank you back.

“Fuck- fucking get back here!” You heard him snarl from behind you, voice unnaturally louder than the music that boomed in the room. It was as if he just… commanded the music to be quieter so he could project his own, overpowering voice. Though you knew, as the Technology Overlord, that was most likely in his limit of power, you still couldn’t help the cold feeling that the uncanny experience sent in your bones. You kept running, ignoring the shouts of curiosity from the crowd at the whole ordeal.

A strong arm wrapped around your neck, bringing you close to somebody’s chest. The sudden change of momentum and pressure on your throat made you sputter momentarily for air, but it didn’t take long for you to come to and realize how fucked you were.

“Vox! Ova’ here!” The demon who held you tightly shouted, and you managed to just barely catch sight of his face. His smile was huge and toothy, a pleased look glimmering in his eyes. He fiercely waved his hand in the air.

“You gross, good for nothing fanboy!” You cried, struggling in his grip. You brought your hands up to his burly arm and dug your claws as much as possible into his skin, yanking down and shredding his skin. He kicked you away with a pained yelp, snarling some curses at you as he nursed his arms and slunk back in the crowd, of which had formed a large circle around the two of you, undoubtedly to the bar to lick his wounds. You stood, preparing to run, but… You realized it was too late.

Vox cleared his throat behind you. He had no need to grab you—you both knew running would be futile at this point. You tightened your lips together in a grimace and clenched your fists. What would you do now?

Fuck it, and, just like you had when you first came across him, you lunged at him. Though, this time you went lower, hurling yourself into his stomach. He stumbled just enough to give you time to send a frenzy of claws across his body, scratching anything that came within reach of you. You gripped his leg and yanked up, toppling him over before you ran once again.

You didn’t get far before something curled over your ankle, twisting around the limb and tripping you. You fell to your hands with a loud ‘fuck’ before shooting your eyes to see what the culprit was—a thin wire twisted up your leg, digging harder and harder into your skin as the seconds past. Every attempt you made seemed futile to rid yourself of Vox, and you had to bite back a cry of frustration.

“Pets don’t get far without their leash,” He spat distastefully at you. A line of blood fell from his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in yourself for making Vox feel some pain, even if the blood on his face was just a display of light.

Vox walked closer, his height sending an ominous shade over your downed body. You didn’t let yourself tremble, though you wanted to, because you truly had nowhere to go from here; you couldn’t let him know that you were afraid. You would keep fighting him, no matter what, even if it would kill you. If you weren’t going to escape this shit, you would die trying. In your frenzied mindset, you didn’t notice the growing sensation of static that prickled against your skin.

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Alastor stood in front of the club, ears flat against his head in an attempt to block out the blaring music that he could already hear from outside the doors. He abhorred places like this, finding them distasteful and a disgrace to the clubs that he frequented back in his day. Of course, he had to get over himself in that regard—finding and saving you from the grasps of that nasty TV head was more important.

His shadow had returned to him a few hours after he left the Vees’ residence, having seen Vox himself entering the club through a back entrance. He had wasted no time in making his way there, ignoring the painful thrumming of his heart and the twisting feeling his stomach made.

With a twirl of his cane and quick adjustment to his bowtie, he made his way in, melting into his shadow to slip in the crack of the same back door his shadow had seen. When inside, he found himself in a somewhat desolate corner of the club, his ears twitching uncomfortably at the sound of the music, louder now that he was inside. He swept his red eyes across the huge room, trying to see past the swarm of demons.

A light pressure on his shoulder, which he quickly recognized came from his shadow, urged his attention towards a room just to the left of the back entrance. The door was cracked open, and he slunk towards the door, peeking in before entering to ensure nobody was there.

The room immediately sent a wave of some uncomfortably intense emotion through him, though he wasn’t quite sure what—fury, maybe?—because the room smelled just like you. His nostrils flared and his eyes immediately narrowed at the realization, and the stick of his cane creaked from the grip he held on it. He didn’t fully understand why the hint of your presence after your absence made him feel so strongly, but he did know that he was pissed, the feeling of which was only increased tenfold when he saw the shackles that lay ominously barren on the bed.

He swiftly left the room, not caring if the slamming of the door brought any attention to him. It didn’t, though, and he quickly realized that a commotion on the other side of the club had already drawn the attention of everyone. A voice—no, your voice shouted something, and another wave of that fury coursed through Alastor’s veins. He quickly moved forward, shoving through the crowd. Demons began noticing his presence as he pushed, and space was being made for him to move through.

Though he wanted nothing more than to simply tear Vox apart, Alastor quickly gained composure and stepped out from the crowd into the wide berth that had formed around Vox and you.

Alastor met your gaze for a brief moment, noting how thrilled you looked to see him and quickly sweeping his eyes over your body and analyzing your condition. His smile curled up in a light snarl when he saw the wire that twisted around your leg. How dare that flat-faced Overlord touch what belonged to Alastor?

He turned his head towards said Overlord, whose face was lit with a multitude of different emotions. Alastor could tell his breathing was coming rapidly, and whether it was due to excitement, fear, or even both, Alastor didn’t know nor did he truly care. All he saw was a pathetic demon before him who took something that wasn’t his.

“My old friend!” Alastor exclaimed with fake friendliness, a smile lighting up his face as his arms stretched up and wide. He stepped towards Vox, an ominous shadow forming under his feet as he walked. Tiny tendrils of flame licked up from the manifesting power as Alastor purposefully made an attempt to intimidate Vox into submission. There was intense bloodlust in his veins, but he was less inclined to create a scene with another Overlord than just getting out of here with you. Plus, despite Vox’s obsession with defeating Alastor, the other two Vee’s really kept out of the feud… Alastor didn’t want to draw the attention of them as well.

Vox didn’t yield, though, and he also began walking towards Alastor, though his body language was much less friendly. His shoulders were high and tense and his claws curled into fists, a frown flickering onto the screen of his face. The two stopped just a foot from each other, and the energy in the room crackled dangerously. The music had stopped, and the crowd of demons had begun slinking out of the club, deathly quiet so as to not draw the attention from the Overlords. This wasn’t particularly necessary, though, as they watched each other with equally unyielding iron stares.

Alastor allowed one more look at you when he heard you weakly say his name. Maybe the sight of him brought you enough relief to finally let exhaustion overcome your body, because you had lost all will to fight. When he saw just how pitiful you looked, how extremely exhausted you were, he didn’t care to hold back anymore.

“I don’t let thieves get away for long,” Alastor said, his voice low and filled with static. He felt the weight of his horns as they expanded while his limbs grew unnaturally, allowing him to tower in height over Vox. In response, tendrils of wire began sprouting from Vox’s body, as well as dangling from the ceiling, poised to attack. “Somebody should’ve taught you some manners on property.”

“We’re in Hell, genius,” Vox growled back. There was an almost ecstatic look in his eyes, but his voice sounded rushed and frantic. “I know you’re old, but come on! How do you forget that?”

Alastor didn’t grace Vox with a response, an inky black spear of shadow shooting from the pool that had been forming underneath Alastor’s feet. It stabbed into Vox’s leg, who couldn’t react in time, but he stood his ground still and threw his own wave of tendrils at Alastor in return. Alastor was quick to move out of the way of the piercing wire, but he wasn’t able to avoid the three that came from above and wrapped around his torso, lifting him nearly a foot off the ground. His red eyes were steadfast of Vox, and he didn’t bother to struggle against the wire. Vox brought him closer, face inches away from Alastor’s own.

“Somebody should’ve taught you about knowing your place! You outdated–” Vox had let his guard down, if only for a moment, and Alastor took that chance. His arm surged forward and through Vox’s face, shattering the glass display. The screen immediately went black, save for the flashes of glitching display lights as the sound of his voice was cut short, replaced by unintelligible buzzing and zapping. Alastor withdrew his hand, bleeding lightly from the glass and metal, and quickly caught his balance when the wires around his torso slackened, dropping him.

Alastor easily stepped to the side as Vox’s twitching body fell to its knees and then forward, the flat screen slamming into the ground with an almost comical slap. The radio demon looked down at it for a few seconds, the corners of his smile curling in a displeased sneer. He truly wanted to avoid getting physical. Vox wasn’t dead, Alastor knew better than to get his hopes up, but his ego would certainly be bruised.

His attention was drawn away from the body, still jerking and sparking, when he heard you softly call for him. He turned on his heel, positioning his hands over his cane to lean and look down at you. You were looking up at him, picking yourself up from the sticky club floor to sit on your knees. He couldn’t keep his eyes from lingering over your haggard appearance, especially the raw, blistering skin of your wrists.

Maybe it was how pitiful you looked, peering up at him like an abandoned kitten, your eyes glazed with a mixture of tears and exhaustion, but something in Alastor urged him to swoop down and hold you in his arms. He was able to fight himself for just a brief moment, but the overwhelming sensation of relief eventually got the best of him.

A cautious step forward, an uncertain glance over your expression, another step, pause… before he finally knelt down in front of you. He looked into your eyes, searching—for what he didn’t really know—before his arms slowly slid under yours, wrapping against the dip of your waist and gently pulling you towards himself. For now he was acting without much thought, doing something he never thought himself capable of. And, strangely enough, you reciprocated the gesture. Why was his heart swelling so much as he felt you tying your own arms around his neck?

It was silent for some time, the club long abandoned from the confrontation with the TV demon. The tender embrace the two of you shared in a rather unconventional place was likely going to be brushed under the rug, forced to be forgotten; you both knew this fact, so maybe that’s why Alastor was letting it draw on for so long. He himself didn’t understand why he enjoyed the feeling.

“Thank you,” you started slowly, afraid to break the silence. You worried that calling attention back to reality would make Alastor shove you away and walk you home like nothing happened. When he made to move to do so, you continued. “For… saving me. I really appreciate it.”

“I couldn’t leave you in the hands of that pompous Overlord,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. Though, you did notice the sudden lack of radio ambience in his voice. You bit back the thought of making any sort of joke about him actually caring about you—now was definitely an extremely inappropriate time for that. Maybe later.

You pulled away from the embrace slightly, making eye contact with the radio demon, your faces inches apart. You saw something in those red eyes that looked back at you, a spark of some desire that you wouldn’t dare name in front of him. You would be lying if you didn’t feel the same, too.

When had you fallen for this guy? This overimposing jerk that manipulated you into selling your soul to him to throw you around like a doll? And why? Maybe him actually pulling his weight in your deal helped you finally realize your unknown attachment to him.

In your thoughts, you failed to realize how the proximity of your faces had gotten smaller and smaller, and you were only jerked back to the present when you felt the lightest touch of his lips against yours. In shock, you had opened your eyes, but quickly closed them when you realized what was happening.

What felt like ages was really only a couple seconds, which was the capacity Alastor could handle. He pulled himself away, and you didn’t fail to see the hue of red that heated his face, though it was light. He cleared his throat and pressed his lips into a thin line, before he composed himself into his usual happy smile.

“A siren, I see!” He joked, trying to play himself cool as he looked down at his chest to fix his bowtie. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”

You flashed him a coy grin, unwrapping yourself from the hug and struggling to your feet. He gingerly held your hand in his so you wouldn’t fall, and let you lean against him. Falling from that wire grabbing you had evidently caused your ankle to sprain, and you were just now realizing after the adrenaline had left your system. You looked up at him playfully.

“Surely contracts can be changed.”

Alastor hummed in response, looking forward to not meet your eyes. That wasn’t a no, though.

part i part ii

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taglist

@enbytwink@wonderlife974@cannibalcoyote@reigenmagnet@tsukilover11@sophiasrant@bby-clowns@amurtan@sleepykittycx@radical-bunny@kimkimmm2411@mihuntress@lunaria1@spirlimpo@poppingaround@scrumpdidlyuptious@sammyaftxn@quinnofthevoid@fabii275@abbiedail@tuhlollo@venom-laced-words @littledolly2345 @mommmysstuff @lvnalxve @mo-0-o

#ohdeerfully #kidnapping #TW: kidnapping #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #this took so long yall #im sorry omg #pls dont ask for part 4 it wont come #vox DIES #jk not really #i wish tho #if vox has no haters im dead

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hawkfrostandmudclaw · 3 months ago

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#OMG i kept forgetting to post this after i'd drawn it #no backgrounds we in the void #to h&m fans: i prommy im working on h&m ive just also been roped back into cof and im the planner for it #to cofheads: i prommy im working on cof ive just also got a full time job #'budget' is a metaphor for my time and energy ahaha #man it was really fun to draw askravenpaw and also miss maple after all this time #speaking of miss maple. to cofheads: me and my wife are not the same person. my wife does not run all of cof dhjdghkd (i do)#ppl keep saying any hiatuses must mean he's busy im right here #ANYWAYS. the character tags #sorry im super tired because i barely slept last night because its randomly started being 30 C in winter (85 F or smth idk google it)#hawkfrost #mudclaw #frederick di luna #mustard #intermission #warrior cats #ask blog #post #i only realised after posting this theres no filters as well as no background. i was procrastinating & wanted to make sure i got it out LMA #*lmao

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aromanticannibal · 3 months ago

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I don't think I'm ever getting over izuku pulling kacchan's tie. what was he (horikoshi) thinking

#both in a funny ahah they're fags way and in a dude genuinely what are you showing what are you doing what were you thinking #izuku was TREMBLING while katsuki put a hand on his shoulder in the first episode he was barely able to talk back that one time #and now he's /pulling his tie/? holy shit what if I died for them guys #anyways. sorry their development rotates in my mind constantly #omg i should make a tie pull cube. fuck I'm in bed #mad mha ramblings//#mha #bkdk

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cut-aare · 7 months ago

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Scribble dump ft. MK and Red Son!!! (More of a blending mode and brushes experiment)

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

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fic rec friday 6

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Will and Nico Sitting in a Tree by percyspandapillowpet

Nico rolls his eyes. “Can’t believe I used to have a crush on that guy,” he mumbles, and then immediately covers his mouth. Oh gods. “What—what?” Will asks. “You what?” Nico turns away, burying his face in his hands. “I—I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

this one made me giggle oblivious nico always does. "Like absolutely clueless sons of Hades" yes you tell him will!! will is such a brat w the biggest eyeroll problem in the world i adore him. i know he has literally strained his ocular muscles before

2. (Im)perfect by percysandapillowpet

He was thankful his suit was black, because he was starting to sweat through it. His stomach wasn’t holding up well, either. He hadn’t eaten anything in hours, but he felt like he was going to throw up any second. He stood in the bathroom still, now holding a wet cloth to his forehead. His hand was shaking, causing the water to drip down his sleeve. Why was he so nervous?

i am weak for proposal fics and have been my whole life. 'marriage is an instituation' blah blah blah. its FUN. i LIKE READING IT. and this was CUTE AS HELL. the namebadge especially was the cutest ever touch truly

3. As Long as I'm Getting Paid by percyspandapillowpet

Nico raised his eyebrows, using his shoulder to hold the door open. “Hi. What do you want.” Will smiled, but he shifted his feet. “Can’t a friend just stop by and say hi?” “No,” Nico replied. He then moved to close the door and retreat back into his cabin, but Will lunged forward and caught it. “Wait!”

walking up the scary badass to kill the spider will never not be funny. like yes of course befriending the most dramatic kids in camp will have dire consequences for nico and those consequences will involve waking up at odd hours in the night to do the Dumbest thing possible ever

4. Two Boys, Being Straight, Doing Straight Things by percyspandapillowpet

“Remember, dessert makes her sleepy. She’ll be out by seven-thirty, and we’ll have the rest of the evening to ourselves.” “Fair point,” Ms. Solace says, handing Will and Nico each a pie wrapped in tinfoil. “We can probably hold out til then.” Will glances at the clock above the stove. “One more hour.” He glances at Nico with a grin. “And then we can be gay again.”

i love this fckn series i have to have read it like fourteen times. i love seeing them gay and older and disastrous. and this whole concept of having to pretend to be straight for wills dumbass homophobic grandma will never not be funny

5. Even If It's Forever by @wintersky101

Nico doesn’t like to be touched. Will respects that, of course, even though he’s got a lot of hugs he wants to give him. Sometimes, though, Nico doesn’t mind, and those are some of the moments Will likes best. Or, five times Will didn’t touch his boyfriend, and one time he did.

this was such a soft and wonderful character study. the soft slow build and determined communication...yeah this fic was written with such care and you can tell

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

#sorry that im so so late omg #i have no excuse except i was entrenched in character charts again #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #side note im watching house & like....how do people who work closely together every day not fall deeply in love w each other #pjo hoo toa #will solace #nico di angelo #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #solangelo #secret relationship #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost

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natelia-aldelliz · 2 years ago

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Guys imagine, Roach died, before the creation of 141, but Soap is able to see his ghost. He was originally following Ghost around, really annoyed that he was using his death as an excuse to not get close to anyone, but when he found out Soap could see him and talk to him he started following him around instead.

And they get really close, like two peas in a pod, except they have to be discreet about it because no one else can see or hear Roach, and they'd think Soap was crazy if they saw him talking to no one.

They use that for shenanigans too: Roach will go follow someone else and report back to Soap, Gaz is genuinely starting to believe Soap has superpowers or something. It's really useful on missions as well, and Soap managed to successfully rescue team members thanks to Roach being able to move through walls and everything.

(Roach is not the only ghost Soap is able to see btw, just the only one he's talking to.)

And then Roach is witnessing his past lover trying really hard to not fall in love with Soap, and Soap trying really hard to not do anything about the love he already feels, and he has to try and convince Soap that he is dead. During that conversation he finds out that something else that keeps Soap from doing something is that he feels very confused about everything because he also has feeling for Roach.

So now Roach has to try and convince him that even if he was still alive he wouldn't have a problem with that. He's known for a while that he was polyamorous, but he hadn't really dared talking to Ghost about that because he thinks he's jealous and possessive.

And Soap is like "oh yeah, you want me to go say to Ghost 'don't worry about your dead lover that I'm not supposed to know, he's actually polyamorous and also in love with me, I know because his ghost told me!' ??? I'm sure he's gonna take that well!"

But Roach is nothing if not resourceful and he manages to put Soap in situations where he's forced to interact with Ghost, and eventually they kiss and their relationship is beginning to be something. They're not really sure what.

And Roach is sad, because he has to watch the two men he loves being in love without him, yes, but at least they're both happy, and it makes him feel a bit better. And then during a mission Ghost almost dies.

Because he was alone and Soap and Gaz were together, Roach was following Ghost this time, ready to fly to Soap in an instant if there was any problems. But there was and he didn't have time, so he instinctively grabbed the gun being pointed towards Ghost's head and moved it as the person was shooting, saving Ghost's life, giving him enough time to shoot the enemy himself.

But even as the threat is eliminated, Ghost is still looking up from where he's on the ground, staring right through him, looking shocked. No, not right through him, he realises when he moves to the side and Ghost's eyes follow him. He also realises that he grabbed the gun. He's never grabbed anything before, in all his years of being a ghost.

Then suddenly Ghost's eyes move wildly around, and he figures he disappeared from his view. He can still go through the walls, but he's kept the ability to grab stuff when he wants. It gives him a ton of new possibilities, to fuck with people and, of course, to touch Soap.

"I wish you were actually alive," Soap whispers to him, holding his hands against his face as he's falling asleep.

"What the fuck," comes Ghost's voice the next morning, waking both of them up - wait, since when could Roach sleep?

Soap doesn't understand immediately, because he's always been able to see Roach. But Ghost is standing in the door, looking straight at dead past lover.

Turns out Soap is a necromancer and he had no idea, though the whole 'I can see dead people' should probably have told him sooner that he wasn't normal... The more he wishes Roach is alive, the more he actually is. And they all end up happy and together. And Gaz is very happy to have won the bet that Soap indeed has superpowers.

The day Roach says, in a wondering voice, "I... I think I'm hungry" is the day they understand that something is really happening and he's actually coming back to life.

(Also, Soap has no control at all on his abilities, he has no idea what does what and why, he knows nothing. No one knows.)

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #soapghost #ghostsoap #roachsoap #ghostroach #ghostsoaproach #accidental necromancer soap and ghost roach au #this is not organised at all bc my head has been hurting for days and i feel like i'm dying (i'm being overly dramatic don't worry)#this came to me when i was watching megamind don't ask me why #anyway i can't even read that again bc the words make no sense to me when my head hurts so sorry if it actually makes no sense for real lol #omg imagine ghost being interrogated bc someone reported him for sleeping with soap and he goes 'do i sleep with my sergeant?#yes i do but i don't only sleep with one of my sergeants i actually sleep with two of them; one having been dead for 4 years'#and they go 'dead as in... pronounced dead but actually alive?' 'no no dead as in actually dead as in buried; dead dead'#'so you *were* sleeping with him in the past?' 'no i am currently sleeping with him. with both of them.'#and then price has to gaslight sooo hard to make it all right they're literally taking years off his lifespan #and when he complains they giggle at him saying that it's alright bc soap will bring him back anyway if he dies for their sins

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xxlady-lunaxx · 16 days ago

Text

obanai and the thing about him hating praise towards his scar+obamitsu

obanai sat, hands fidgeting on his lap. his bandages rested on his shoulders where kaburamaru was usually perched—the snake was curled on his arm now, diligently watching. somehow, it felt like obanai had been stripped naked. the cool air against his entire face, the lack of restriction when he moved his jaw, it felt unnatural, almost. he might as well be more comfortable without clothes than without his mask. he wished mitsuri would speak. but they’d been sitting in silence for a while and, though he could feel her gaze on him, he couldn’t discern it. finally, after what felt like forever, he forced his eyes to flick back up.

mitsuri was sitting still, hands curled on her knees. her expression was one obanai hadn’t seen on her before, but pretty nonetheless. except he couldn’t find it in himself to appreciate it now. not when his entire being seemed formed of anxiety and he was barely containing himself from squirming. it was all he could do to not jump up and run far, far away. but he was trying. he wanted to stay. for mitsuri.

noticing his attention, mitsuri composed herself. her brows were furrowed, but they relaxed slightly as she smiled at him. her cheeks were their natural rosy pink, and they puffed up with her effort to say something. in a way, she was just as worried as obanai. anyone could tell it was a touchy subject.

after a moment, she mustered up the courage to move closer to him. abandoning the comfortableness of the cushion she’d been sitting on to sit directly in front of obanai. with a quick affirmation, her hands slipped under his hair, cupping his cheeks. her thumbs traced the edges of his scar, sending a shiver down his spine.

“iguro-san…” she whispered. despite the softness of his name on her tongue, it cut through the silence. obanai jolted, more surprised by her speaking than her touch.

“y-yes?” he asked, straightening. he felt like he was being called out. her fingers burned against him where skin met scar. he wished she wouldn’t touch it. as if, by doing so, the filthiness of it all would transfer to her like a disease. he felt guilty, even. allowing her to do this. allowing her to act so caring to someone who didn’t deserve any bit of it.

mitsuri’s eyebrows dipped down again, her expression a mellowed bittersweet. she let her hands fall, resting them on top of obanai’s. she squeezed gently, her skin soft as her fingers soothed him. “you shouldn’t have to hide this… you’re… very pretty, iguro-san,” she murmured. her voice was oh, so quiet. and, for the first time in his life, obanai hated it. not her voice, itself. but it was wrong. her mouth forming those words. here, now. with her gaze tracing the years filled of agony on his face.

unable to help it, obanai jerked away. he slipped off his cushion, nearly tumbling down. he managed to settle on the floor, the pillow a distance between them. his fingers knotted into the fabric of his pants. there was a sharp, belated gasp, sounding sweet despite everything. obanai couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. instead, he choked out a shaky, “i’m… not… pretty. it’s not pretty.”

“i… iguro-san,” mitsuri tried. but today was a day for firsts. so obanai interrupted her.

“what happened to me wasn’t pretty. none of it was pretty.” obanai’s throat felt hoarse, his words gravelly.

mitsuri stumbled. she hesitated. then, tentatively: “i didn’t mean…”

obanai shook his head. his hair rustled. his bandages slipped. kaburamaru was suddenly on guard. he hissed, but obanai was quick to coax him away. petting the snake gently, vaguely comforted as he soothed his friend.

“iguro-san… i’m sorry… i meant”—mitsuri looked down, her action only visible from the way her braids shifted. obanai was avoiding looking at her—“i meant that nothing could… get in the way of you being perfect.”

the words tasted bitter in the air. “i’m not perfect, either, kanroji.” obanai spoke flatly. he couldn’t understand what mitsuri couldn’t comprehend. but he felt almost sorry for her. that he was nothing she wished he was. he was far from perfect.

“you are,” mitsuri insisted. before obanai could interject, she added, “perfection doesn’t have a solid definition. some people think ‘perfect’ means their ideal person. some people think it doesn’t exist. but i think that what makes a person perfect is that they’re them. it can come in so many varieties. and you’re one of them, iguro-san. i’m sorry i came off as… insensitive, earlier. but this is what i meant.”

finally, obanai looked up. he was gaping, he knew. a flicker of amusement passed by mitsuri’s eyes. she must enjoy playing games of pretend. it took obanai several moments to speak. because he almost wanted to believe it. but he knew, as a fact, that she was only amusing herself. amusing both of them.

“you’re wrong,” he said. he pushed enough confidence into his words, allowing them to taste strong as they rolled passed his lips. “i wish- i’m sure we both wish. that what you said was true. but it’s not. if you knew- if you’d seen… you would realize. you’d agree with me.”

only a beat of silence, this time. mitsuri was indignant. “perfect people don’t have to do everything right, all the time, iguro-san. we’ve all done stuff we regret. we’ve all done bad things before,” she said firmly. she looked like she wanted to move closer but was holding herself back for his sake. he let himself appreciate it.

“that’s not it. it’s different. it’s more than just something i did.” obanai returned to staring at the ground. his fingers itched to rewrap his bandages. “it’s worse.”

“it couldn’t be,” mitsuri said quietly. “if you didn’t even do it, then—“

“you just- you don’t get it!” obanai snapped, abruptly. his head jerked back up so he could look at her. his fingernails dug into the palms of his hand. “you wouldn’t understand! just- just stop! stop trying to pretend that i can be a better person, when it’s written in my god damn blood that i can’t! you’re just- you’re the perfect one, okay? i can’t compete! i don’t want to! so stop acting like i ever could!”

mitsuri was stunned, her eyes wide. but her surprise seemed purely on his outburst, shying away from his words. why wouldn’t she just let it go? accept that he could never be anything good? he hadn’t anticipated this when he’d worked up the idiocy to show her his scar. he’d almost hoped she’d be scared away. or, at the very least, finally see his flaws. realize he isn’t as great as she thinks he is. and yet all she can muster to understand is that none of it is a good memory.

when the silence stretched on, obanai’s shoulders slumped. he hated that she refused to see it. but he hated himself equally, if not more, for pushing it all onto mitsuri. as if he wanted her to carry his own burden. this was all so stupid. he never should’ve done this.

he turned away, making a quick work with retying his bandages, the movements precise and practiced. when he spoke this time, his voice was considerably quieter. almost meek. “please, kanroji,” he mumbled. “i’m sorry. please forget any of this happened.”

then he stood. he heard her calling out, maybe following him too, but he forced the temptation of her voice away. replacing it with the shock on her face instead. allowing his guilt to guide him out and away. kaburamaru moved back to his usual place as obanai rushed home. but this was how it should be. kaburamaru on his shoulders, his bandages wrapped tightly around his jaw. tucking away and repressing everything that shouldn’t be shown. the only evidence of his visit was mitsuri, who was left standing by the doorway. he could only hope she’d heed his advice and forget what had happened. it was only for the best, after all.

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