#roach x fem!reader

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Idk if this is where I put requests but If you don’t mind can you write a fem!Reader x roach where reader has been dyeing her hair for years and decides to ask roach is she could put streaks in his hair? Like she has all her hair dyed one/two colors and roach would have matching color skunk highlights?

a/n: this is such a cute idea!!!

Roach:

-he’s always enjoyed seeing other people’s hair and how they used it to express themselves and adores seeing your hair color change from time to time

-he was always a bit scared to dye his own hair or do anything drastic as a teen, so when he asked you he got really excited. He was only planning to use the extra you had from your dying that you finished a few minutes ago, but he eventually let you talk him into dying a few more streaks

-the sitting around was the hardest part for him, having to have his hair in tinfoil and not being able to lay on anything, but once he got to wash it out he was so so happy with how it came out. It was nice to match something with you, something that he can see wherever he is, and that he can think about when thinking about you (which happens to be quite a lot)

[penelopepine]

Forever In Your Gaze

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Night at the museum AU. Gaz and Reader are both paintings directly across from one another, and have been in love for many years now. The only thing is that they are unable to actually leave the confines of their canvas, and have never felt others touch.

I wrote a blurb about this already here!

Word Count: 2,050

Content: Established relationship, fluff, light angst

-

"This class is the painting of the Duke of Hersling, Kyle Garrick, though he was often referred to as Gaz to his close friends." The teacher says while pointing at a large, full body painting of man dressed in his finest. The most striking things about the painting is the sword on his hip, and the intense straight forward stare. "He was a swordsman and a scholar during his life." 

"How did he die?" One of the boys in the back of the group yells out. 

The teacher smiles at hearing a question and says, "He actually died in battle; this painting was done only months before his death in 1545. Any more questions?" Hearing none, the teacher directs them to the painting directly opposite of the Duke. "This painting here was actually done in 1545 by William Bahr. A very prestigious portrait painter in his time.” 

The painting showed a woman sitting in a field of flowers with a bright smile. The sun is shining bright behind her while she looks lovingly straight ahead. Upon looking at both paintings it is clear that they are at eye level with one another; staring into each other's eyes. 

A girl this time raises her hand, and once receiving a nod from the teacher she asks, “What about the woman in the painting? Who is she?” 

“She is an unknown figure, the painting was never picked up by its buyer, and no documents containing that information were ever found. She is assumed to be the daughter of a nobleman though.” 

"Do you think she and the duke knew each other?" Another girl asks, looking between the two paintings, "I think they'd make a cute couple!" 

The rest of the students laugh at those words, and once they’ve calmed down the teacher says, “It’s funny that you actually say that! When I worked here during college my coworkers and I would always refer to these two as the forever gazing lovers.” 

“Mr. Sanderson, I didn’t know you used to work here,” a student exclaims, “I couldn’t imagine working at a museum. Wasn’t that boring; staring at the same stuff everyday?” 

“You’d be surprised how wild a museum can get,” He gives a light chuckle to himself, and looks up nostalgically at the art around him. “My favorite part was working as a night guard. It turns into a whole different world here, but enough about that let’s continue to the next room.” 

-

It was later in the evening when everybody was in the lobby getting ready to board the bus did the teacher see his old mentor and friend walk through the doors. 

“John Price!” He proclaims with an extended hand out. 

“Gary Sanderson!” John calls back, and shakes his offered hand. “It’s good to see you here again, lad.”

“It feels as if I never left, sir. How is everyone around here doing?” 

Price looks at him knowingly, “Everyone’s been good, they miss you, but they’ve been good. You’ll have to come and visit sometime.” 

“I will, promise.” Gary looks to where his students are just as the bus pulls up before whispering, “tell everyone I miss them as well. I’ll call later and plan a visit with you later.” 

“You better keep your word with that. Ghost and Soap will go and hunt you down if you don’t.” 

Gary gives him a laugh and one last nod before rushing back to his class, and leading them outside to the bus. 

With that Price turns and continues further into the museum. Telling folks that they will be closing in just a bit, and getting everything ready for the night to begin. 

It’s only half an hour later when Price is locking the door. He knows things are going to be very active in here in just a couple hours so he takes this time to get some of his actual work done. He sits in the lobby behind the reception desk until the sun has fully gone down, and the moon is high in the sky. 

He knows that the magic is about to begin when the moonlight that shines through the doors starts to have a more unnatural silver glow to it. Price watches as the silver moon rays slowly morph into a ball. In a matter of seconds the glowing sphere has finished growing in size, and suddenly it darts forward. Leaving Price where he was sitting as it flies past him, and travels down all the halls inside the museum. 

As it passes a piece of art it’s clear that the art then, as if waking up from sleep, slowly comes to life. It quickly passes the gazing lovers' paintings; arising them from their slumber. 

-

When Kyle awakens for another night the first thing he sees is you; which is exactly how he wants to start every night for the rest of time. Life was perfect for him with you, and the only thing he wished for now was to someday feel your touch; even if it was only once. "How is it that everytime I wake up and see that you just appear more and more perfect?” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You giggle at his flirtatious words. He always makes sure to say words of endearment to you first thing upon waking up. 

“Well I would hope so! Otherwise what are these museum workers doing besides making sure my varnish is still in prime condition?” 

“Probably keeping the rest of the building from falling apart!” 

"I think Price is the one that does that." Kyle argues with mischief clear as day on his face.

"I'm gonna tell Laswell next time we see her that you said that." You say with a small chuckle before bringing your hand up to the invisible border keeping you inside the frame. 

Kyle watches as you bring your hand up, and does the same with his. This is the closest the two of you have come to holding hands with one another. Conversations from this point continue as normal for the two of you. Talking about whatever comes to your mind with one another. 

Occasionally talking with the other paintings around the room, or anyone that passes by. Farah, a statue of a queen who led her kingdom to victory in battle, and Alex, a wax figure of an American WW2 pilot, make sure to stop by and say hello. The two of them always stay for a few hours talking with you both before continuing on their way. 

It was only a few minutes after they left when Price walked into the room, a grim expression, coming to stand between the two of them.

“Price, everything alright?” Kyle asks with a worry in his voice.

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news for the two of you." Price runs a hand through his beard; he's clearly trying to already come up with a plan for whatever is wrong, "This area is getting a complete makeover tomorrow. You two would be very lucky to even be around each other come tomorrow night." 

Kyle immediately looks to you after hearing those words; he couldn't imagine being away from you. He's been facing you for years now, and Kyle is not in any way ready for that to change. "How do we fix this then?" He asks, directing his question towards Price. 

“I’m going to talk to Laswell tomorrow, but it’s Shepherd who is changing things around.” 

“Fucking Shepherd.” Kyle cursed the man to himself. That man was always making decisions about the museum that seemed to bring nothing but pain for everyone here. 

It was you who asked the next question, “Will she be able to go around him, and keep us together?"

"That's the goal. Shepherd isn't around very often, and even when he is he doesn't bother walking around the area. We'll try and switch a couple things around tomorrow night." Price huffed; he clearly didn't like what Shepherd was doing either. He was most likely going to be hearing a lot of complaints from the others in the area as well. "I've got others that I still need to inform, but trust me when I say you two will remain together." 

With that Price continues on his way leaving Kyle and you to dwell on the information he just told.

"Kyle I'm scared; what if they can't do anything, and we end up getting split up?" 

"I'll find you, love." Kyle is very serious as he says this to you, "This will not keep me from you. That I can promise." 

Kyle and you continue to discuss what this will mean for you both, and possible solutions to stay together. When the time comes to go to sleep again he finds a small amount of comfort looking into your eyes. For in your eyes that is where he finds peace. Kyle's last thoughts before the sun comes up is that he loves you. 

-

When Kyle finally realizes that he is awake once again it takes only a moment for him to know that it is not you that he sees. Instead he is in front of a painting of an older man with a dark background around him. 

Despite knowing that this would be his reality Kyle is still hit with the panic of not seeing you. He is quick to look around hoping that at the very least that you wouldn't be far, and could still talk to you right now. 

He bangs on the barrier, and calls out your name when he doesn't see you. Every time his fist hits the barrier a magical sheen ripples around where he made contact. Kyle does this for several moments even asking the others around him if they can see you.

Before he can continue once more yelling for you Soap appears seemingly out of nowhere in front of him. Following closing behind him is both Price and Ghost as well. Soap and Ghost are both bronze statues, who once the sun is up are two soldiers fighting one another in one of the Anglo-Scottish wars. It took Price a lot of effort to eventually get them on civil terms with one another. 

Which is why it’s almost surprising looking at where their relationship is now.

“Gaz!” Soap’s voice calls out. His friend brings his hand up to the canvas, placing his hand where his shoulder would be if they could touch. “Mate, you’ve got to calm down.” 

“Where is she? She was meant to still be in the area; she’s gone!” 

Price readily steps forward next to Soap, “She’s most likely been moved downstairs to storage. We’ll go and find out where she is, and carry her up once we do.”

Those words brought so much relief to him, but at the same time this situation was meant to be very different. “Why is she not here though? What did Laswell say about all this?” 

“Shepherd refused to let Laswell know anything that was happening. She’s trying to figure out what all he has planned, but some things may not be so easy to undo. All we can really do right now is wait.” Price calmly replies back to him. 

It’s Ghost who actually says the most comforting thing to him though, “Your girl has been moved, Gaz. She has not gone though you’ll see each other again, at most, in a few hours.”

The three give him a few more words of comfort before rushing out to find you. 

This time away from you has really made Kyle think about the first time he met you. It was just another night for him. He knew from Laswell that a new painting was going to be added, and would be placed opposite of him. Nothing could have prepared him for you though. 

The first time he woke up to see you had truly taken his breath away. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and once he had started talking to you his heart had been yours. 

With that in mind Kyle starts to push against the invisible barrier holding him inside the frame. He thinks of you as he pushes and pushes and pushes. Until suddenly, like a rubber band snapping, he's out.

Taglist: @zarsghost

Note: I finally wrote it!!! I hope you enjoyed reading this; feel free to let me know your thoughts!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello Hal,

Congratulations on 5k followers <3 I’m so happy for you honey!!, for the request can we get a cute fluff short story with roach please ? You can do whatever you want w it !

Have fun and congrats again :)

—Raining Cats and Dogs

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

It was raining more in the last few hours than it had in the entire month, with a constant deluge of harsh winds and the occasional lightning strike; the rumble of dark-clouded thunder above the roof. Yet here, snuggling on the couch, you and Gary reveled in it. 

The curtains were open to watch the raindrops, your cheek to the man’s chest as the warmth of the fireplace made you sleepy. There was no vacancy of comfort in this living room, Gary’s fingertips traveling up and down the length of your spine as the minutes slid into hours. The air was heavy with sappy heat, the thin blanket long pushed down past your shoulder blades. 

His breath was puffing against your forehead, your nose situated in the junction of his chin. Gary was humming, too. A tiny little melody that neither of you could name—perhaps it wasn’t even a conscious symphony, just a mess of rough pitches and whatever he felt sounded good enough for your ears. You weren’t complaining, even if he was no lyricist. 

His arm at your waist tightens, pulling you closer as he nuzzles his nose into your head with a tiny grunt. 

Gary’s eyes are half-closed, the deep well of color soft and as malleable as clay. There was no need to speak to one another, no, in moments like these, the silence spoke for the both of you. The crackle of fire, the slam of rain; soft inhalations of your lungs. You press a warm kiss into his neck, and Gary’s lips pull into a tiny smile, his fingers digging into your flesh that yields to him as his gaze glints. 

His chest reverberates with a hum, purring like a cat while a smug expression litters the lax lines of his face. With a gentle shift of his body, the man settles your back to the cushions as he shimmies to loom above you, blanket tying the both of you together in its fabric arms. 

Gary’s hand is under your shirt, the wide hold of his grip cupping your opposite hip from behind as he suddenly collapses atop you with a sigh. You grunt, before a tiny fit of wheezed giggles escapes your lungs, the weight of his body no concern as his head shoves itself into your stomach, legs out behind him with one hanging off the edge. Head against the pillow, your warm hands rub through Gary’s hair, carding through the locks as he loses all focus and sags—eyes fluttering at the scrape of your nails. 

You both release a long breath as a slash of lightning slices the dark world outside; neither of you flinches, not even the Sergeant in your grip, when the thunder rolls through. There wasn’t anything to fear in this house, and there never would be. 

So, Gary gradually succumbs to the ministrations of your touch, his humming tapering off until nothing but his gentle snores give you their song. You continue to play with his hair, thumb rubbing circles. 

The fire burns on, the storm continues its rampage, and the lovers fall to sleep in each other’s arms.

[hunterbunter3000]

141 Sweetheart, bursting through the door: OH MY G O S H YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY--

141 Sweetheart pacing back and forth, ignoring the fact that she walked in the men's locker room with tf 141 shirtless:

Ghost: ...Love.

141 Sweetheart still talking and pacing:

Price: Sweetheart.

141 Sweetheart: AND THEN HE-- huh

Soap, smirking: We're changin' 'ere, St.

141 Sweetheart:

141 Sweetheart, backing up: Oh.

141 Sweetheart, slowly closing the door: Sorry.

(Everyone knowing she's still there)

141 Sweetheart, opening the door again: Nice assets by the way-

Price: Sweetheart!

141 Sweetheart: SORRY

[v4voracity]

HALF A HEART - COD characters x Poltergeist!reader

POLTERGEIST COD AU

⥇❥"Reader" is a literal ghost, AFAB reader and referred primarily as to as "you", sometimes explicitly referred to as a woman, implied to be British and implied to have died in the 1500s/16th century, though the location isn’t relevant for much other than attempted historical accuracy with her death/why she’s in England. Reader is also not said to be of any skin tone or ethnicity, just that she was *likely* born in England. Reader is from a time when afab people weren't commonly educated and canonically has slight trouble reading and learning after her death since she can't access books or learning materials and had to self-teach herself to read and write after death where she couldn't ask for help, this will probably change though after she meets 141. Said information is slightly relevant to the plot, though I can make an alternate version if people want an amab/gender neutral reader :)

also roach is canonically part of this and has little antenna attachments to his helmet because i said so

  ⥇❥Word Count: 4096, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ Technically age gap? Reader was born and died long before any cod character ↪ possibly historically inaccurate as i was unfortunately not alive in the 1500s nor most of the following time periods ↪ possibly incorrect depictions of a ‘poltergeist’, as reader is an amalgamation of different types of ghosts/folklore (i mainly just didn't want to use the term ‘ghost’ because it’d be confusing with Ghost the character) ↪ possibly OOC characters ↪ american author writing europeans ↪reader is (basically) rasputin with their death ↪ slight mentions of religion or religious themes (mainly about the afterlife, existence of heaven/hell, and brief mentions of witch trials which were mostly religiously motivated.) ↪graphic description of how reader died (witch trials, so think salem witch trials kind of graphic)

let me know if i missed anything or should edit the content warnings!

Link to main masterlist - Link to HALF A HEART sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

Let’s get things straight. You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Deader than a doornail, in-fact, you’ve been dead for almost.. 500 years now? Well, you're rounding slightly but nobody cares for the exact amount of time.

Now, that is a long time to be dead for… Well, a long time to be dead but still conscious; a spirit, ghost, apparition, whatever you wanted to call it. If it weren’t for the fact you were more-so apparition than person, you’d almost say it’s like being alive and immortal for longer than god (or genetics, you weren’t picky) ever intended. 

And being ‘alive’ for so long is very boring; especially now that the deep-seeded anger in your heart has faded, those who wronged you long gone and their kin far too distant from them for you to ever wish ill-will towards them. Especially now that the fear you felt, the horrific terror you felt being escorted to your improper grave and the existential dread that hung heavy when you revived, only to realize you hadn’t survived nor been healed for a second chance. No, you were dead; rejected by both heaven and hell, not even worthy for eternal damnation. The only upside to this was that you were still capable of interacting with the living world; more than you could say for the very, very, VERY small number of ghouls you had met in your time of unliving. Apparently you were a bit unusual, you being far more capable and capable of manipulating the living world than the 'run-of-the-mill' ghost.

That being said, your current behavior, which was following around some hunky military men like a lovesick maiden, was totally excusable…

…It wasn’t creepy, no, you weren’t being improper. You were totally just... curious. It couldn’t have been the fact that you died unwed— a pure virgin, hardly having even engaged in romantic acts, as you were devout in your chaste nature. I mean, surely your absolute devotion which led to you never even kissing a man or woman, holding hands or lying with someone earned you a little justification to do… whatever you were doing right now.

Okay, maybe it was a bit creepy. But dying a without so much as ever having ONE cute little date with heated cheeks, bashful giggles, and butterflies in your stomach as your hands brushed each others— FOLLOWED by being forced to go entirely unperceived much less feeling any sort of physical contact or verbal interaction for A COUPLE CENTURIES makes this somewhat understandable.

It’s not like you were really DOING anything, (because, again, that was a wee-bit hard in your current state) you’ve just kind of been following this guy around?

(You followed him around because you overheard people refer to him as ‘Ghost’ and as an actual ghost you found that a little funny)

Then that led to you following his team around. You had, somewhat, messed with the men— not much, mainly flickering lights, closing doors, and moving objects slightly.

There had been slight complaints, but not much indicating they knew they were facing a lonely, dead girl who died unfairly supernatural danger in the form of a poltergeist with abnormally strong powers. Just assumptions that ‘the wiring was faulty’, or that ‘someone must’ve left a window open’, sometimes they just assume someone knocked something over (despite nobody being near said knocked object). Oh, and your favorite was that ‘some stupid recruits moving shit’— speaking of which— the guys you followed were all pretty high-ranking from your understanding and occasionally trained recruits. That was cool in its own right, but it was especially great for you because you could lob stuff at them and get some poor recruit in trouble. It was fun.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fun enough to keep you entertained. Now, given when you were born and raised it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t particularly that literate. Your brain (long gone and returned to the ground) wasn’t even physical or attached to you anymore, so it wasn’t a surprise that learning things was often hard for you(something you hated in death, as learning things would help pass the time if it weren't frustrating and near impossible both because you couldn’t access physical hobbies or items like books AND because your brain—or lack thereof— simply didn’t take to information like it used to), but you knew enough of written English to make out most newspapers and documents. Despite that, you had very little clue of the strange ciphers and terms used by the men, even though you had remained mainly around the military base they were staying in for a few months. 

…That was until recently, when you decided you were curious enough to try and actually learn about what they’re doing. You were currently following this guy— Captain Price, you think— because from what you knew (as a woman who died in the middle ages, uneducated, illiterate, dying fairly young by today's standards anyways and having lived without ever partaking in any wars or battles and not ever bothering to ask about any) he was the highest rank of the team, followed by that ‘Ghost’ guy you originally followed (he’s called a lieutenant, a word you hated writing or reading because it was so damn hard to spell or even look at), then this ‘Soap’ fella (A sergeant, another word you weren’t a fan of) and then this ‘Gaz’ bloke (Who was apparently also a sergeant, but he was the second? So he was lower? Why did they need two? And why was one rank worse than the other? You didn’t know and frankly found it stupid.) There were also these other people; Shadow Company or something, you didn’t really get it because the guy who they most frequently talked to from that company was white as a sheet, but whatever.

Anyways, recently you found out that while wandering wasn’t an issue for you (you weren’t ever bound to a particular area, probably because your body, or whatever remained of it, was far from where you died, and you couldn’t really remember where you were when you died so you weren’t particularly attached) it was very hard for you to follow after the ‘vehicles’ they used. Sometimes they used these wheeled inventions called ‘cars’ (which were kinda like the horses, carts, and carriages of your time but not shitty). They also had these things— called ‘helicopters’ or something similar with a different name (again, you didn't know why they made things so complicated but whatever) that were able to take them anywhere by air. Pretty cool if it weren’t for the fact it made following them anywhere exceptionally difficult. So you had to go about a different method if you wanted to actually follow them anywhere.

Possession. 

Not necessarily like the kind you’d seen in a ghost-related movie you watched over an unwitting couple’s shoulder. It was more so just somewhat attaching yourself to someone, letting part of yourself (probably your soul, if you actually had one) attach to theirs, letting them become a tether into the physical plane. The realm of the living. If you pushed it far you could absolutely do like they do in the movies, but you found that kind of scary since you didn’t know how much of your soul was required for that or if you could be exorcized like in the movies. You really only tethered yourself to someone when you first transitioned into… whatever you were now.

 A wraith, at the time, aggressive and vengeful against the man who accused you, the town that raised you then gazed at you hungrily— blaming you for their sins. Calling you a temptress for the beauty you acquired with your maturation, something you were once proud about turned into something you abhorred.

At one point you even felt festering hatred towards the family that raised you. A mother who birthed you only to denounce birthing you, claiming a devil implanted you as a demon of the night that’d ruin their village and took the milk meant for sons, your elder brothers. A father, one who doted on you before as his precious only daughter and youngest, turning his head; unable to watch as you were tied to the pyre and lit ablaze— a man who was cowardly and evasive. The siblings of yours that you grew with— were close with, were cared for by, were raised by! 

All for them to pretend they had nothing to do with you. Or to join the crowd’s jeering turned cheers as you sobbed, salty tears unable to extinguish the fast-growing embers. Not one of them dared to correct the executioner’s methods. Witches, despite stigma, were usually hung or otherwise given quick deaths prior to the burning; but you… 

Oh, poor, poor you. Things weren’t quite done correctly. You were still alive when they tied you to the post, surrounding you with flammables and letting the flames lick up your body. Catatonic, unable to beg for mercy, for them to kill you properly. Though, even if you were able to speak, you probably wouldn’t beg. You were desperate to survive. When they butchered you like the farm animals you’d skinned many times before with your dear-old-dad. Failed to cut the correct places and left you bleeding, conscious but paralyzed in pain and fear as they dragged your body to a make-shift wooden post in the town center. Never let you burn fully, the triumph leaving their voices when they still saw you, struggling— eyes still moving, hyperventilating as your arms thrashed trying to break the burnt ropes, paralysis spell broken by desperation— still living, still struggling, still surviving.

They didn’t have the courage to finish burning you either.

It'd be a poor choice if you were a witch, since burning was supposed to be done to stop them from cursing people…

Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe you were a witch? Maybe you had somehow sold your soul, and with no soul to give you could enter the afterlife? Maybe that’s why you felt a path of fury when you died? You felt wronged and cursed people for nearly half the first century you found yourself un-living.

Regardless, the cowards backed away from you with wide eyes, and eventually you felt the ropes break, your body barely reacting to what you wanted it to do, stumbling around aimlessly despite your efforts.

All you could do was scramble out the village, betrayed and never wanting to return.

Eventually, you fell to a crawl, dragging yourself through the grass, fingernails caked with a mix of dirt and blood, as if your near-corpse was trying to create a shallow grave every time you scraped them across the ground…

Somehow, you ended up falling into a river. You don’t know if you fell  during your crawls or if someone put you in there, just that it was excruciatingly cold and your lungs, shrunken and shriveled by the heat of your incomplete incineration couldn’t get any air. You tried pulling yourself out but you were too far gone. Even then, ‘til the point your eyes closed you never gave up. Maybe you were so against dying your soul remained, even when your body went.

Honestly, you weren’t ever really sure which of those injuries eventually lead to your drawn-out and overdue death, but you didn’t care. What you did care about, upon re-awakening, was revenge, hearing the blood-curdling screams of those who wronged you, those who feigned ignorance, those who lied, and those who threw you out when false accusations came. You were swift in it, tethering yourself to everyone in town, attaching small pieces of yourself meant for one purpose: tracking.

No matter where they went they were damned, your violent-haze, the cravings for others to bear a fraction of your misfortune. You were like a tsunami, quick to approach with little warning, only the quick recession of water to warn those who’d be affected. (Not that your victims knew what a train was, but it was like the equivalent of seeing a train barreling toward you and being unable to move, only able to process what's about to happen.) And you were even swifter to strike, small misfortunes not enough to quell that furious fire inside you— brighter than those that scalded you. All ended in what you thought were well-deserved deaths.

But, that wasn’t what you’d be using them for. Not today, and hopefully never again.

You decided you’d turn up the heat a bit and have these men notice that they were, in fact, haunted and not just clumsy or forgetful. You had an easier time manipulating things when no-one was around, or when someone was alone. Easy prey for the ghoulish you, even if most of these guys could probably have easily broken you in half when you were still alive. It sounded dumb to give yourself away, since they might try to send you back to the rest you used to crave upon first re-animating, but it was necessary to tether yourself.

So… here you were! Fucking around and moving things, only to be met with just minor annoyance by this guy. ‘Price’, for some unknown reason, just seemed minorly peeved by your interactions, not convinced they were supernatural.

You moved his chair and desk(which was pretty hard with how heavy it was) and this guy just groaned about how his superiors treated his office however they wanted when they needed something.

You sent his papers flying, stacks of paperwork sorted neatly into piles of done and yet-to-be looked at, all flying. You flung the pen he used too, sending a blotch of ink onto the floor with the papers, permanently soaking them. Minor annoyance, didn’t even say anything. Just… grumbled. 

Hell, you toppled over a WHOLE bookshelf, loud thud echoing as it fell to the ground and all its contents scattered. And this guy? Grumbling about how the flooring was uneven!

If you had a physical body, you’d be beating your head against a wall right now. Seriously, it was frustrating!

You guessed you had done something correctly though, as he seemed annoyed enough to leave his office and go for a walk. Throughout said walk you continued throwing items and flying through his body, which usually caused people immense discomfort, sometimes to the point of causing panic attacks or full-on freak-outs. All that? Yeah, met with a “Bit chilly today.” or a “Someone outta close th’ windows.”

You were offended, to say the least.

Now, you were in a common room with several other people, including those guys, Gaz and Soap, who now talked to the Price fella. It was harder to interact with things, especially with so many people in broad daylight, in light in general. But you surprised yourself when your frustrations and slight anger led to the lightbulbs in the room flickering several times before simultaneously combusting into sparks and broken glass, all electronics—mainly the radios strapped to almost every soldier in the room—  with speakers blaring loud static as you flung the nearest object, a bench that you didn't initially notice was bolted to the fucking ground out from it and towards Price, and the other two who surrounded him. 

‘Oops..?’

Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely devoid of anger and wrathful vengeance, but you’d like to think your self-control was a lot better than when you first died. You did have around… well, about 400 other years to learn some self-restraint and become slightly less blood-thirsty?

ANYWAYS; Lucky for you they all managed to dodge that heavy and fast approaching bench! good thing they were all trained soldiers who were always on guard Oh, and even better everyone in the room now looked at the uprooted bench with wide eyes and terrified expressions! So… mission accomplished?

Well, sort of?

“The hell?!” Everyone in the room backed towards whatever wall was nearest to them, behind unmoved furniture, or otherwise tactically covered positions as quick as they could, many (including the poor sod you’d been following and the rest of his team) having their guns ready and aimed at the entrances or near the uprooted bench.

…Yeah, you didn’t really wanna deal with this.

So you floated off, through the walls pretending your problems didn’t exist, as you usually did.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 You came across something pretty interesting, that Ghost guy was doing some strange hand gestures to this other masked fella (why was everyone here covered almost head to in something?). For a moment you thought they were trying to summon something before remembering that the military used hand signals and stuff. 

Anyways, you now had a new guy to follow! He looked pretty cool and he had these little things hanging off his helmet that remind you of a bug. Something… was slightly off with this guy though. You could’ve SWORN he was occasionally glancing over at you, or your general area. Ghost, who you couldn’t really tell much expression-wise due to him also wearing a mask, seemed to lift an eyebrow. Or furrow them. You didn’t know, you just saw his forehead area shift a bit under the mask. 

“You 'lright?” He turned and glanced over at you, where his bug-like friend kept glancing. Bug-fella looked over at you for a few more moments before shaking his head and gesturing at Ghost again. Ghost seemingly returns to his resting facial position and glances back towards your general direction, not quite as spot on as his friend was. “Y' just keep looking over there, ‘was wondering why.” 

Ghost loses interest quickly, turning away from where his friend was staring, resuming his silent communication with the still-unnamed lad, hand gestures becoming far too fast for you to even comprehend what they were doing even if you did understand what the gestures meant. After a short while of just floating around and watching them, Ghost gives the shorter man a light bump to the shoulder with his fist (seemingly friendly?) and turns to leave. “See y’ round.” 

It’s just you and Bug-boy now. The room empty, and his eyes (not that you can see them, he’s wearing a helmet and goggles that are practically solid with how heavy the glass is tinted) are aimed directly at you. You float over, hovering a good foot or two off the floor because the ground and gravity were for cowards, and stop a few inches away from him. He reaches a hand up towards you, only for it to quickly phase through your arm, then your torso, then back into the air. He’s startled by the feeling, you can tell, shivering as goosebumps raise on his arm and his hair stands on end, you can tell because of his sleeves being bunched up at his elbows. 

“Sorry.” you say, not even sure if he’d hear you. Maybe this was some weird coincidence and he couldn’t actually see you. Though, to your utter surprise and slight delight he kind of waves it off, making gestures (full body ones this time, not the hand-signals you couldn’t quite understand) that you could interpret as meaning ‘not to worry about it’. Your eyes widened, before breaking into a big grin. “Wait, wait, wait, you can see me? You heard me— can hear me?!” He nods, looking at you, observing, then gesturing with his hands again.

You.. feel a little bad that you don’t understand whatever military signs this must be, tilting your head and frowning. “I… I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t know much about the military signals or whatever you were using. The code signs and words you guys use weren’t around when I lived. Or died.” He seems a little confused, then brings out a rectangle from his pocket— a phone, new invention and quite useful. It lights up as he puts in the code and opens something, pressing at the glass. 

After a moment he turns it towards you. It… takes you a little to adjust to the brightness (and to read the small letters, given your eyesight and low-literacy). “Give me a second, it takes me a minute to read.” In your peripheral he nods, though you don't move your gaze away from the screen.

“That’s fine, not many people know sign language. It’s not a military signal, just a way I communicate since I’m mute.” You read his words aloud, relatively slowly and he nods after you’ve read it; confirming you’ve read it correctly. 

You glance back up at him. “Mute… So you… can’t speak? Right?” Another nod, then he turns the phone back to himself, rapidly pressing the screen and turning it back again. You read again, “What are you? How are you floating, and why’d my hand go through? Why were you watching us?” You hum, floating away from him slightly, sinking slightly to a sitting position, though still remaining affixed in the air and not sitting on an actual chair.

“Well, I’m dead. I guess you could call me a spirit, spectral, a ghost…” you chuckle a bit at the last one. “Well, maybe not that last one, it seems your friend already occupies it.”  You lean forward again, nearly doing a backflip in the air before stopping in a lying position, holding your head in your hands. “I guess me being dead physically but alive… consciously, or spiritually I guess..? Resulted in me being incorporeal, thus not really touchable by people or gravity.” He nods at your words before motioning for you to continue when you pause.

You avert your eyes. “Well, watching people is all I usually can do. Incorporeal and all. I’m not sure how you can see me when I’m not manifested or tethered to you, but it’s nice…” Smiling sheepishly, you can only hope this guy— the only person you’ve actually talked to in a long, long, time— isn’t grimacing under his mask. You hesitate before reaching out towards him, running a finger down his throat in thought, forgetting it'd just phase through. “Maybe it's because you can't speak? It's not a sense but it's like maybe because you don't have one thing your other senses are better? But back to your prior questions. Being dead is… boring. All I can really do is fuck with people and watch stuff. You and your friend, Ghost, and his other… teammates are just what have caught my interest recently.”

He nods and trots over to a nearby bench, you grimace thinking about the mischief you caused slightly earlier by throwing a bench at the captain. Let’s hope your bug-friend doesn’t overhear that and stop talking to you. “What’s your name?” He types, and turns the phone to you, a single word there. “Roach? Like… the bug?” your mouth quirks into a crooked smile and you giggle, flicking the antenna like attachments to his helmet. “Fitting, you got the antennas and everything!” 

Floating down onto the seat, you try your best to sit on it, your bum and thighs slightly phasing through the seat but it's fine. ‘Roach’ begins typing on his phone again, having it set on his thigh so you can watch while he types. It was also probably just in case someone came in or saw him and so he wouldn’t look crazy turning his phone around to nothing (from other people’s perspectives).

“People can’t usually see you?”

You sigh and lean back, accidentally reclining into the wall and to the other side before realizing he probably won’t be able to hear you if you speak. “Oops, I forgot I’d phase through. Uh, yeah they usually can’t unless I’m actively haunting them and choosing to. It takes a lot of energy to do that though, so…” He nods and hovers his fingers over the phone, thinking for a moment.

“What's your name?”

You hum, thinking for a moment. You... haven't had to introduce yourself to anyone in centuries.

"This... well, it's a little embarrassing, but I can't remember."

"Why don't I call you 'Poltergeist' for now then, since Ghost is taken?" You smile at him, your cheeks feel like they've heated up slightly, but not from the lingering burn you got after your death, no, it was the burn of happiness. Giddy from this guy giving you a name, almost like you were a stray. You shouldn't be this happy, clinging to him and internally deeming him your new best friend, but you were.

Your undeath began a new chapter today, now living as 'Poltergeist' (at least until you remembered your name) with your new ghost-inclined friend Roach.

[mi-i-zori]

I love Snail! She reminds me of those tiktoks of people wandering their local forests and patting moss. She definitely gives off wood elf / nature fae vibes, and I love that for her 🖤

Also her callsign reminds me of a silly handshake / greeting I sometimes do lol right before knuckles meet, I extend two fingers into a peace sign to mimic eyestalks and yell "SNAIL"

- Biscuits 🌺

Biscuits !! 💚 You get it. She’s a mischievous little nature fae who loves rain and bad puns.

She’s the kind of person to do these « going on a hike for my stupid mental health » videos except she can’t stop giggling and jumping around with the music instead of pretending to be grumpy.

(She’s lost count of the number of times she got distracted by something and almost forgot her phone on the side of the trail.)

Also that handshake seems a whole lot of fun tbh, I can really imagine her do it to the guys ! She probably started it with Roach, Soap or Kyle - or maybe with the three of them, before being brave enough to do it with Ghost and Price once after a mission. And it stuck.

She probably found a way to include other friendly critters in that handshake when she wants a change from literally yelling her own callsign.

« Frog ! »

« Cricket ! »

« Raccoon ! »

« Ant ! »

« Ye doin’ the whole forest, wee bonnie ? »

Snail perks up a this, her smile widening.

« I think you gave her an idea, Soap. »

For some reason, I can imagine Roach being really good at mimicking animals with his hands. You know, playing with shadows and stuff ? They probably have a blast with this ever since they noticed the actual shadows made by these handshakes. They probably change the moves it order to actually make the handshake make sense when you look at said shadows.

Thank you for your ask Biscuits, I hope you don’t mind me stealing that handshake idea to use with my friends now 🐌

OC Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A Little Snail Under the Rain - Masterlist

[thewriterg]

𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x afab!reader, john ‘soap’ mactavish x afab!reader, task force 141 x afab!reader

summary; You and Ghost weren’t the least bit pleased when you both were roped into Soaps shenanigans for a costume contest but deep down you’d do anything to see the smile on his face —flufftober day;1—

word count; 1.3k+

warnings(s); readers call sign is “coma”, soap having two of the most deadliest soldiers worldwide wrapped around his finger, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @silenthqll & @une-femme-de-lettres— OCTOBER IS HERE WRITERS‼️

“C’mon Hen it’s just dress up for one night” Soap pouted following behind you as you made your way to the cafeteria as you denied him for the seventh time in a day over the same thing he was prominent as hell over dressing up in matching costumes for Halloween and of course reasonably you declined

“Johnny, darling. You’re gonna drive me mad go sit down with Simon I’ll be there in a few” With a small huff the Scot was storming away with the attitude of a toddler as you stood in line for you alls lunch

Ghost perked up from his cup of tea in the furthest table in the cafeteria his chair against the wall as he watched the Scot approach him muttering things to himself with his arms crossed over his chest before sitting in his usual chair with a huff and before Simon could even humor himself in asking him what was wrong the Scot was already rambling of his troubles to the Brit

“You think it’s reasonable aye?” He spoke with a roll of his eyes while Ghost huffed mirroring his actions before grumbling under his breath his voice gruff and deep

“Sure MacTavish”

Soon you were walking towards the booth two trays of food in your hand setting them down gently in front of the men and taking your own seat nothing but a cup of coffee in your grasp as you had sparing right after and preferred to not vomit on your to save yourselves the trouble settling in your chair with a grunt as moments of silence passed you all Ghosts mask lifted below the tip of his nose so he could eat

“You know Ghost thinks it’s a good idea if we dress up” Soap stated suddenly causing the war criminal to clear his throat trying not to choke on the food in his mouth as you peered over you cup of coffee looking the Scot in the eye you gaze sharp like a siren as you hummed

“Is that so?” Your gaze adverted to the Brit who looked at you with blown pupils you had to learn how to read Simon since he pledged his face being covered like the plague but the main starter note you could give to anyone in need?

That man had more expressive eyes than a mime

“Come on love, you know the mutt it putting us against each other” It took everything in you not to chuckle or at least crack a smirk at the look he’d given Soap as if he wanted his head on a chopping block which he looked like he didn’t have an ounce of regret for the interrogation he caused and running out of options he pulled his last stunt

was is it petty? maybe

would it get his point across? absolutely

“It was jus’ a thought don’t worry too much ‘bout it” The Scott mumbled standing from his seat before taking his tray of half eaten food and walking away from the table with a drag of his feet causing you and Ghost to glance at each other little did you know that was just the beginning

💌💌💌💌

For the rest of the day the Scott was unusually quiet and only spoke when spoken to you picked up on the behavior quick and you weren’t stupid you knew that he was trying to manipulate you but you were sick of watching him sulk like a kicked puppy so when Soap had got up to leave the meeting room you threw a glance to Simon who stealthily followed in your footsteps as you went to go corner the Scott in the comfort of your shared chambers that had took too much paper work and a white lie with the help of Price about being married for you all to get to share a room and become each others next of kin

With non faltering steps and long strides you had made it to your room in a mere minute slipping through the door with no regard to see Soap standing putting on what looked to be his loungewear switching from the army print cargo pants, long sleeve compression shirt, and steel toe boots to grey sweatpants, a white wife beater, and thick socks

“Ye need somethin’ Bonnie?” The Scott mumbled looking to you with a tinge of mock sadness in the back of his throat that had Ghost rolling his eyes at the sight from towering behind you

“Stop mopin’ Johnny I’ll wear the damn costume” The words slipped pass the cloth of his balaclava into the air of your room accent prominent, voice gruff, and eyes annoyed and the Scott was as bright as ever again before his eyes adverted to you staring at him with a deadpan expression and before he could even start with his puppy dog expressions you were already nodding your head with the roll of your eyes

To say the Soap was ecstatic was an understatement and you began to regret your decision fairly quickly when he went on an hour long rant about what he wanted to dress up as and a even longer rant when you and Simon had no idea what ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’ was

So you had spent majority of your night watching the film with hushed giggles and laughter whenever Ghost would complain about the quality of the fight scenes which was fairly advanced for the time in the early 2000s But lt didn’t fail to amuse you when the blonde scoffed before muttering something like

“Amateurs”

“Yeah draw even slower you bloody daft”

But you had fortunately got through the movie in one piece before coming to the realization that

youd need two suits and a dress

💌💌💌💌

“Here comes the life of the party yea!?” Gaz announced as You, Ghost, and Soap walked towards the table everyone in the pub dressed up as a different range of characters you rolled your eyes at him a hint of playfulness in the mix of your eyes and before you could speak Gaz was gasping

“You didn’t!” The smirk on Johnny’s face was prominent as he wiped non existent dust off the shoulder of his black suit jacket identical to Simon’s who meekly huffed at the brunette as you smirked a fitted black dress against your body heels standing strong against the sticky bar floor and topping the look in the visible slit of your dress was a thigh holster that held a pistol that may or may not have been real identical to the ones in the belt of your partners

“You’ve done it” Gaz cheered along side Soap probably a few drink in dressed in slacks with a white button down that had blood staining the collar prosthetic fangs creating a small lisp when he spoke while Price shook his head at the sight of his two youngest recruits on their way to get a round for the first table the Captain himself dressed in jeans, a flannel, brown boots and a matching cowboy hat to match it was a sight for sure

You and Simon had took a seat in the booth making sure it was room for Johnny when he’d returned as you listened to Ghost tease your captain on his costume choice which caused a mock roasting session amongst them both as you held back the laughter in your throat

“Dinnae tell me party’s already started” The strong accent evaded your ears as a round of shots were placed in front of all of you

“As if anyone you forgot about you” Your voice carried sarcasm and the Scott just grinned in response before taking a Drink and toast it up which you were all soon to follow before downing it in one go

As you and Simon looked at each other you knew you were ruined

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[batsyforyou]

Home Again

Pairing: Roach x FemReader

Tags: Pregnancy, twins, pronouns she/her, drabble, kisses, implied NSFW at end

Prompt: The team needs a place to lay low and Roach knows a cozy spot. 

Author’s Note: I got tired of writing so many ‘your/you’ it's probably the smallest drabble in existence. 

Roach looked around his team and shrugged, raising a hand. Noticing him, Price nodded to him. 

“What is it, Roach?” 

“I’ve got a place where we can lay low.”  

The expression on Price’s face was stern. “Lead the way.” 

Smiling beneath his mask he gestured for the others to follow him. 

She sighed. Staring up at her ceiling in her darkened room rubbing her pregnant belly. 

The twins were fighting again. 

She sighed and turned over cuddling Gary’s pillow. “Please you guys. I know your daddy isn’t here. I'm not happy about it either. But please, just a few hours sleep?” 

The twins didn’t seem to hear her and kicked again and she rolled her eyes. 

Boys. 

Pushing herself up she groaned, rolling to sit on the bedside rubbing her ballooned belly. Maybe if she walked some or maybe a trip to the kitchen to satisfy a pickle craving? 

She hummed.

The doorbell chimed a “ding-dong” and she frowned, who in the world could be here at this hour? 

Roach lifted the rock from the flower pot on his porch and took the spare key. He kept telling her not to keep it there. 

Sighing, he rang the doorbell to let her know that he was back and unlocked the door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz and Price follow behind him and he gestured for them to take their shoes off. 

He took a deep breath and felt his muscles relax.   

He was home. 

She groaned with the effort to stand and waddled her way down to the door hearing some quiet muttering and paused. Her heart leapt into her throat and she peaked around the corner. 

Several masked and heavily armed men were shoving their shoes off. The few without masks were examining her pictures with Gary, pointing at her wedding picture. And that's when she saw him. 

He had his goggles propped on his head and he unbuckles his helmet and tosses it on the coffee table leaving his balaclava. 

She grinned. “Gary!” 

He turned to her and his eyes crinkled at the corners and she waddled over to him. Meeting her half way Roach wrapped his arms around her hips, his thumbs running over the sides of her belly. Reaching up she tore off his mask and barely noticed his messy hair before she tugged him down to her. Kissing him far more passionately than what was appropriate considering she had guests. 

Breathless she pulled back, her gaze caught on his lips, craving something different than her pickles and ice cream. 

Looking back at the boys at her front door, their faces looking caught between flustered and awkward. “You boys have the run of the house till I get back.” 

She gripped Gary’s vest and pulled him towards their room. 

“Just don’t eat the pickles.”

Masterlist

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Track Marks And Dial Tones V

Summary: Agent Rohr keeps pushing, are you going to cave? Meanwhile, Clay is fighting his very own demons.

Pairing: Clay Roach x afab!cop!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k (short but dense!)

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, Drug Paraphernalia, Agent Rohr, Emotional Distress, Explicit Withdrawal Descriptions

A/N: Genuinely can’t believe this is actually happening rn. I’m back in the fucking building.

Find The Other Parts Here!

Tagging the horde: (Y’all….it’s been a hot minute. I don’t know who’s still active)

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp @starry-eyed-wild-child

All we are is entertainment

Caught up in our own derangement

Tell us what to say and what to do

- Entertainment By Rise Against

You gagged; a myriad of rotten cardboard boxes wearing a now brown-tinted strawberry print rumbled into the blackened trash bag as you jerked the overflowing bin upside down, various stages of decomposition on full display. In your means to clean this place, you had quickly learned to be grateful if the task at hand was only about picking up brightly orange needle caps or tossed and scattered Fent strips.

“We gonna get you a chore planner, Clay.”, The words trickled into the dusty and thoroughly musty air as if he was right there with you and not miles away, pushing himself through an unmedicated living nightmare, “I swear, I’ll bust your balls if it ever gets that bad again!”

The deadpan statement coaxed a shallow, quick laugh to roll over your tongue chased by a heavy pang of anxiety cutting right through your stomach as you remembered just how fucking bad it had gotten on your end now, too. 

It’s been days since Rohr has had the audacity to show up at your own house to shove his nose into business that wasn’t his in no way shape or form. However, he’d made a point; HR wouldn’t like your little stunt at all, no matter how hard you were to push the harm reduction agenda, pleading for humility and understanding in front of people who’d be more than pissed about the financial hassle of hundreds of missing test kits.

Just the thought of this shit-eating grin beaming right at you from the opposite end of your kitchen table whilst he’d drawn out photograph after photograph to punch his point down your throat a little harder with each picture rendered you sick to the bone and had your insides twitching in every possible direction. There wouldn’t be an easy way out of this, that much you knew, yet, risking Clay’s already fragile chance of actual sobriety was no point of discussion to be had for it being blatantly out of question. It had to happen, had to work out, and then… then it would all be good again; calming little white lies you told yourself to keep that last shred of sanity alive and fed somehow. 

You forced your attention to return to the now plump trashbag, once hollow edges rounding with the sheer amount of strawberry milk boxes, if they’d let you, you’d bring some full ones to the facility soon in the hopes that the little things might make it more bearable for him. 

During the past nights, you’d spent hours upon hours staring at your ceiling wondering, your thoughts conjuring images of pain levels you hadn’t felt yourself, not even when inflicting it upon yourself. Simply the mere train of thought about Clay going through days of crippling withdrawal shook you, made you flinch without any physical incentive to do so around you, wishing that you could help him carry the weight and pain in whatever ways possible.

The mobile device in your pocket buzzed, announcing a text that was waiting to be read. The sudden bzz-bzz humming through the fabric of your pants nearly had you crawling out of your own skin for a second, your ribcage exploding from the sudden jolt of adrenaline.

“Jesus, fuck!” You huffed out in a raggedy breath, dragging your phone from its confines, display lighting up with the touch of your thumb.

- Hey, sweets, I’m free tonight, just saying. Are you going to be? -

“Motherfucker!” The need to throw your phone at the next best wall rippled through your arm but you kept your composure, trashing your mobile over a text from that asshole wasn’t exactly on your to-do list, not today and not in the near future either.

His entire ribcage cramped, shrunk together as his stomach pumped a new wave of bile upward his esophagus to wash around the root of his tongue and eventually gush free from parted lips, the acidic amalgamation of mucus and foodless vomit slumping down into the pristinely white toilet bowl, the scent of harsh chlorine cleaning solution burning it’s way into his overstimulated nostrils.

Clay felt sick like a dog, sick to a degree the term “dope sick” didn’t even fully convey the level of misery his body and mind were going through as the wash of throat-burning barf left his trembling statue. The lump thumbed down in a dull thud as he reached for the button to flush it all down just like everything that had left his body beforehand already; trembling fingers barely able to push against the mechanics with enough vigor.

After he’d wiped quivering lips with a bunched-up fistful of cheap and coarse toilet paper, Clay slumped back down onto his heels, lungs burning with the attempts to gasp for air after it had felt like the mucus and puke damn near choked him out. His eyes burned and his entire vision was blurred with the intense amounts of pressure throbbing through his skull every time his stomach contracted with the means to violently eject the few crumbs Clay had managed to shove down for breakfast.

“Peak between 48 and 72 hours, my fucking ass.”, Dry lips smacked against each other, the sensitive skin brittle and chapped, “It’s been 5 days, you fuckers.”

Clay’s already sore voice broke off almost immediately, turned into a pathetic, whimpery croak as a surge of violent tears oozed from his lashline. He knew he could push through it, it wasn’t exactly his first rodeo, however, the helplessness of it all that had his body trembling, muscles aching and joints feeling like they were about to break apart got to him. He couldn’t help it and the trivial, set-in-stone-fact drove him to the edge of crumbling.

Unless inevitably medically necessary, this facility had a strict no-medication policy. No helping hand, no little pick-me-up besides vegetable snack plates and smoothies, fucking smoothies. Clay could’ve sworn to still taste the biting hint of celery that ruined damn near everything in larger quantities, especially now that the deep green liquid had found its path all the way back since ingesting it in a faint moment of hope along the afternoon hours. 

With a long groan rolling over his tongue, Clay let his head loll back against the uncomfortably bright white tiles of his adjoined bathroom, thinking about a cheeseburger and fries. For a little while, his thoughts stayed there as he slid down from his heels onto his ass, pulling his knees underneath his chin to rest his head upon. Greasy, salty goodness with an extra large diet coke for that nice crisp and tingly feeling dancing amongst his ketchup and mustard battered tastebuds. Fucking smoothies.

He closed his eyes, wiping the wetness from his cheeks on gray hoodie sleeves. The piece of clothing felt like a warm, comforting hug, all cozy and fuzzy on the inside. Clay pushed his face into the fabric, the thick cloth blacking out the harsh bright light from above, and he sighed in relief, a faint smile ghosting around his mouth. He was thankful; thankful for you packing that duffle bag for him, thankful for the sploppily put together grilled cheese that had tasted like heaven, and grateful for that black and purple polka-dotted cup filled with hot chocolate.

Clay knew that he didn’t owe you anything, you weren’t that type of person to push your thumb onto all the good that you’d done until someone gave you a badge of honor for it, no, nonetheless, almost all of his motivations to go through with this led back to you, back to you crouching in front of him whilst he had sluggishly come to, back to how you’d held him, dragged him to your car and took matters into your own hands because everything had eventually slipped from his that night. 

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

You’re Somebody Else | Ghost x Fem!Reader | Part I

Note: This is not a new part - haha I’m currently in my exam phase sooo yeahh, but I decided to split the prologue into two parts because I personally believes it flows better.

This fic has religious undertones at least in this part, I hope I don’t make anyone uncomfortable with this. I grew up Christian (tho I’m an atheist now) and I thought a bit about how I would react if I was suddenly in a parallel universe where I and several other people are supposed to be dead.

Warnings: Death, Mentions of Gore, Angst, COD Typical Violence, Mentions of Original Characters, Mention of Religion and Hell, Inaccurate Depiction of Medical Stuff, Injuries and prolly Military, Transmigration (lol)

Summary:  You watched him die and yet he’s somehow still alive. You’re certain that you’ve died too and yet you’re still kicking. Is this a message from the universe? A second chance to make things right? To confess? You want to believe it but you quickly realize that he’s not the same man you knew and loved. Yet your heart is fluttering when he touches you. Can you love this new version of him?

Word Count: 3,8k

Taglist: -

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

Prologue, Part II, Part III, ...

When you open your eyes again the world is on fire and you’re looking at the ceiling of a helicopter.

Someone moves in your field of vision, but you can barely make out their features as the lights of the helicopter don’t seem to work. Your ears are ringing, and you can’t understand what the man is saying but based on his expression something bad is happening.

He’s a marine you realize belatedly when your eyes adjust to the dark environment and for a moment you wonder if you must continue to fight even after your death.

Is this hell?

You don’t actually believe in hell or heaven anymore but based on the fact that you woke up again this has to be some sort of afterlife.

The unknown soldier shakes you and yells something and the ringing finally stops, and you hear him call you by your callsign.

“Nomad! Fuck, can you hear me?! Jesus, for a second I thought you were a goner!”

You nod automatically and he grabs you by your plated vest, dragging you into an upright position.

“Your head is bleeding like crazy”, he curses and speaks into his mic to inform someone about your injury.

You haven’t even noticed it but when you touch your left temple you feel the edge of a helmet and your gloved fingers turn red. It doesn’t hurt.

While the marine speaks, he looks behind him and you follow his line of sight out of the helicopter. The heli apparently crashed.

Shots whizz past the window and the man ducks to avoid getting hit.

“I know you’re injured but AQ is reigning hellfire on us! I’ll take care of your wound in a second!”

The unknown marine faces you again and in his hand, he holds a M14 EBR. Automatically you know it’s yours.

“Keep holding on, Bravo Team will be here soon!”

You take the weapon with your right hand and the marine helps you on your feet.

“They’re shooting at us from the house!” He points in the general direction, “Keep your head low and don’t waste your bullets!”

“Okay”, you mumble. Okay you think.

You’re dead but you still have to fight. Makes sense.

Leaning against the wall you quickly scan the inside of the helicopter, then the immediate surroundings of it through one of the windows. The area is illuminated by small fires and corpses litter the dusty ground. Marines, all dead. Maybe this is hell.

It would make sense, all the lives you’ve taken on countless operations... Is this retribution?

The realization that you aren’t in the Caucasus Mountains anymore only trickles in slowly.

You turn to watch through the window beside you and spot the house which the marine mentioned in the distance, and you immediately make note of the smoke coming from the second floor.

“RPG!” someone yells and years of active combat situations make you instinctively drop low when you hear the familiar whoosh. The metal of the heli protests.

Shouts and gunfire echo in your ears and your world is turning but you stand up again, prepping yourself against the wall to have free line of sight towards the house.

Smoke is still coming from the second floor, and you watch through your scope for any movement. You see a shoulder and want to pull the trigger, but someone kills the hostile before you can react.

Bravo Team you think, does that mean I’m part of Alpha? You don’t know what the fuck is going on.

Your radio crackles.

“RPG is taken care of.”

You blink. That voice is familiar.

But before you can think about it more, the marine comes up to you again. You realize he’s a Captain.

“Sarge, we should wrap your head.”

Now? Now’s not a good fucking time.

“I know but you’re bleeding a lot. Don’t want to take you back home in a body bag.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud but the concern in his eyes ends up convincing you and you take off your helmet.

“Do it quick”, you mutter and sink below the window, pointing your gun at the entrance of the helicopter, while the strap of your helmet is cutting into your elbow and the night goggles on it dig into your thigh.

“Jesus, it looks really bad”, the captain mutters as he grabs some gauze from his med kit and wraps it around your head with quick and efficient movements. It gets soaked almost immediately.

You don’t really care though; you can’t feel the pain. In fact, you can’t really feel anything. Your body doesn’t feel like your own, you’re practically floating. Maybe it’s because you’re dead.

He finishes and you put your helmet back on.

“Tell me if you’re starting to feel light-headed, okay?”

You nod but don’t plan on actually doing it. Even bandaging your head feels useless.

You can’t exactly die twice, right?

If this is the afterlife it might be likely that he doesn’t know that yet. That he doesn’t know he’s dead, a corpse like you.

For a second you wonder what killed him. You look at the man. He really is a stranger.

You feel bad for not knowing his name but asking would be kind of strange as he addresses you in such a familiar way, so you don’t.

The area doesn’t provide enough light for you to check his name tag on his cammies either, so you just have to go on without knowing. But that’s okay. You probably have a lot of time to get to know him – if this is hell.

Your inner child is starting to whisper, and you have to repress your childhood memories about church, the priest in your hometown and your father’s bible.

You breathe in and out.

The smell that surrounds you reminds you of countless operations you’ve been part of. It reminds you of your team, your friends, him.

Something in your chest hurts.

Your radio crackles, you hear a familiar cockney accent and suddenly you see two bodies burning in the flames outside of the helicopter.

“Alpha 0-2, Bravo 0-7. Building two secure. We’re coming to you.”

The captain responds but you don’t hear his words, just see his lips moving, while you lean against the metal, your fingers gripping your rifle so hard that your knuckles turn white under your gloves.

There’s a ringing in your ears growing louder and louder.

A moment later a shadow towers over you and you look up reflexively, coming face to face with a masked soldier. Two eyes glance at you from behind a skull mask and all you can do is stare back.

His eyes quickly focus on the marine next to you, then he checks the windows, focused as always, a perfect soldier to the bone.

The captain readies his gun and the man next to him follows his lead, pointing his rifle at the tree line on the opposite side of the heli.

You don’t move.

He realizes. And he turns around, staring at you from behind that mask.

“Nomad, get your arse up and help, they’re coming”, he barks.

Slowly you blink. Something stirs in your head.

“Yessir”, you mutter, breathless, and rise to your feet.

You feel like a puppet master, pulling strings to move your body, all of you is slow and heavy, your muscles like lead. But you manage to stand and point your gun towards the tree line.

The next 15 minutes are a blur, a mix of shooting and reloading, killing, the feeling of your finger on the trigger so familiar, your body moves on its own like a well-oiled machine.

All the while your heart is screaming his name and your head replays the last few minutes in the Caucasus Mountains.

Tears well up in your eyes and you blink them away.

He’s dead you think. You both are. You fucking died. You watched him get killed. Helplessly.

The roaring in your head gets louder, accompanying the spray fire of Kilo 0-1 who mows down the troops of the enemy vehicles.  And when the last enemy falls you remain there standing motionless, your grip tight on your rifle, while the others discuss their next movements.

Someone taps your shoulder and points at your head. You lower your night googles and your vision takes a moment to adjust.

A second later, Bravo Team begins to move, and you follow him and the others in a daze, one foot before the other.

Together you move a couple hundred meters, the name “Hassan” falls from several lips, but you have no clue who that man is.

Prey your head helpfully provides.

Before you can think about this sudden thought, you hear a whistle and the man left of you drops like a sack.

SniperGetDown rings in your ears and you dive low, your heartbeat suddenly going 200 per minute.

He’s right there.

A few meters beside you, you can practically feel him and his heart. In this moment, whether it was real or not, whether this was the afterlife or purgatory and you but just a corpse- in this very moment, his heart is beating, alive and strong.

Your finger is on the trigger before you know it, this time you’re ready- your target is right there, you spotted the laser of his rifle and your rifle is in position- this time your bullet will hit- and it does.

Before he can finish his sentence:

“...rest of you stay lo-“

“Sniper down”, you interrupt, your voice foreign to your ears, too weak, too raw.

“Nomad- what are-“

Another shot rings out and yet another soldier in your line falls.

You don’t waste a second, your finger is trigger happy, it’s too important to keep him save, to keep him breathing. If you have to watch him die again…

Someone joins you as you provide cover fire and together, you’re taking out the enemies on the balcony and the roof, bullets whizz past you, even some RPG rockets but you’re too focused on your task to be bothered by it.

A few seconds later Kilo 0-1 sends a spray of gun fire into the property and the building is shaken by explosions – yet it still remains standing, the most of it anyway.

Next thing you know, the soldiers around you are up and running to the building, someone grabs you by the back of your vest and hauls you on your feet, dragging you a bit before you begin to walk on your own.

The skull mask is watching you, the eyes behind it are dark and, in your head, you know exactly how badly he wants to beat your ass right now.

But he lets you go and returns his attention back to the mission.

Lock down the building and find this Hassan- whoever he is, dead or alive.

You follow him, reloading your rifle absent-mindedly while watching his back.

He somehow appears taller.

It’s different a voice in your head whispers, he is- you almost trip on the stairs and the soldier behind you saves you from your fall.

“Watch it, Nomad”, a Scottish voice says and another one rings in your head.

Soap get down!

You blink and grunt in response and the sergeant lets you go. He passes you and readies his rifle to make entry.

Every cell in your body screams to not let him do it but you suddenly feel drowsy and when you finally shake off the feeling, you’re inside the building on first deck, Bravo Team soldiers in front of you while the corpses of the enemy soldiers lay in the rubble around you.

Something’s wrong.

You gun down another hostile and when he and Soap push to the second floor, you follow them, still floating above the ground. But when you walk up the stairs your limbs feel heavy, and your breath is going to fast.

He halts at the door to the side, for a moment his eyes search for you, but in the next, he takes out the man who pushes out the room.

Two shots.

He lets the soldier drop to the ground and then enters the room; gun raised. Soap follows him and you walk up the rest of the stairs.

At the top you have to lean on the wall for a bit. A weight is pressing on your chest, and it hinders your lungs from getting enough air.

“You okay?” a Bravo Team soldier asks. You hum.

Yeah, you’re doing fine. If only the world would stop spinning for a goddamn second.

You blink. The night googles make you woozy, but you don’t take them off, knowing that your eyes would take too long to adjust to the darkness.

You stare out of the entry way to the balcony. You know that there are enemy soldiers left in the building, so you get your shit together.

As soon as you find Hassan it’ll be over. You can hang on a little longer. You’re a soldier, part of taskforce 141, an expert in your field. You went through a lot before, this is nothing. If this is supposed to be hell, it’s a fucking joke.

He walks out of the room and you stand tall again in case he checks on you like he usually would – he doesn’t.

He positions himself before you, letting Soap pass him to walk through the door frame. He guns down the hostile who peeks out of one of the entry ways on the balcony.

Then the Scot goes to the right room, and you move forward, ready to go straight down the balcony but he blocks your path with his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing, rookie?”

That word makes you freeze.

He hasn’t called you that in years and him doing it now, hurts you.

“Why-“ you begin, ready to argue why the fuck he’s acting this way, when Soap emerges from the door way where the enemy had peaked before and gunshots ring out.

“Shit- heads up lads, sneaky little gits are everywhere!”, the Scot curses and sends a spray of bullets down a small hole the wall. You grunt. He almost got shot in the leg. He has to be more careful.

“Move”, you squeeze out between your teeth, and the masked man turns to face you. He peers down at you, his eyes scrutinizing your form.

“You’re following my orders, sergeant. I’m not here to babysit you. So, stand down and don’t pull a move like that again. You’re injured, stay back and don’t hinder us.”

His tone is cold when he references your earlier action of saving his life. You stare at him, trying to find out if you heard correctly. The dark eyes behind the mask stare back with a hard gaze.

You open your mouth, a curse ready to be spilt – since when does he talk to you like that? – but before you can voice your thoughts he walks past you, gun raised, following Soap’s footsteps. You breathe out shakily.

Something is wrong. Something is seriously wrong.

The ringing in your ears returns but you ignore it when the soldier who asked you for your well-being before, waits for you to follow him. Determined you get moving, following the soldier, rifle raised in front of you.

The house is in horrible condition, the onslaught of Kilo 0-1’s gun fire and the explosions destroyed the ceiling, walls and the furniture and, in some corners, the remains of it burn.

The marine pushes up to the door on the left, while he kneels to cover Soap just in case. You bite your lip.

Usually, you would do the clearing with Soap, but this situation is different. There’s a power imbalance somehow and you don’t understand why.

So instead, you follow the soldier and stand behind him, your back against the wall, staring straight at him.

Was it the mask? It was different yes, but his voice and his demeanour- You know it’s him. It has to be him.

Soap passes by you and enters the room, firing his gun, just a millisecond later.

“Threat eliminated”, he announces and guns down the other hostile who peeks through the damaged window.

These words make him move and he walks up to the door frame as well. You remain standing at the wall while the marine makes space for him.

“Poke around, Soap.”

Closing your eyes, you grip your rifle tighter. You’re standing on your feet but the whole world is turning and it’s making you feel nauseous.

The ringing is more intense than ever, and you don’t hear why Bravo Team is moving again but you weakly push yourself off the wall and follow, not realizing that Soap is watching you with worried eyes.

You walk down the stairs, trying to calm your breathing that has turned ragged.

The soldier before you has already left the building when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs and you groan inwardly. Keep up, you shout inwardly.

You experienced worse before, the things you have gone through felt like hell, this in comparison is nothing.

So you push through to the warehouse, jogging to some crates in front of it, your rifle raised, ready for whatever is to come.

Your hands are shaking though, and it costs you immense willpower to keep the gun raised and somewhat steady.

You focus on your breathing and follow him and the others when they begin to move.

You enter the building and a second later- get blinded by the flood lights.

Shots ring out – you can’t see – and Soap shouts something that you can’t understand due to the explosion of a grenade close to you. Groping blindly, you move your night goggles and squint your eyes to adjust to the brightness, but you stumble forward, the sudden loss of your vision is affecting your balance.

It feels like years when you are finally able to make out shapes again, and you rush left behind a crate or whatever it is, holding your rifle up, finger now resting on the trigger.

Another few seconds pass and you’re still partially blinded, red dots dancing over your field of vision. You fall on your ass, leaning against the cold concrete wall to steady yourself.

You’re on a roller coaster, stuck on the looping, the world is turning endlessly. The sounds of fighting accompany your nausea inducing trip and your heartbeat underlines it like a war drum.

It dawns on you now that you really must be in hell – the instances before when you thought about it, you were joking, forming a wall out of sarcasm to protect you from the rising panic and bane of your catholic upbringing.

Your body hurts, your head, your heart – you do have a wound on the side of your head, you are bleeding real blood and the blood loss, and a possible concussion is affecting you.

You take your left hand off your rifle, letting it rest on your thighs, your right hand still holding it, keeping a finger close to the trigger, while you try to open the clasp of your helmet.

You’re shaking too much, and the vertigo makes you miss several times.

When you finally grasp the band, you can barely squeeze your fingers together to open the clasp. Pushing your mic out of the way, you lean forward and shove your helmet off your head.

The bandaged wound on your temple stings and you squeeze your eyes shut, a whimper escaping your mouth.

Why does it feel so real? Is this how you’re tortured? Hurting your body and showing you your loved ones alive and well?

They aren’t real a voice whispers in your head. It’s not them.

You grab your head with both hands. No, it’s not true. It can’t be.

Where’s Roach? You suddenly ask yourself. And Lynx?

Anna is was your best friend in the force, she meant so much to you- she should be here.

Your head hurts so much and the ringing in your ears is so loud that you don’t hear that the fighting has already ceased. Someone grabs your shoulder, the grip is strong but it doesn’t hurt.

“…me? ..omad? ost, Nomad is inju…”

Your head is so heavy.

Fingers apply pressure on your head injury and the touch sends a painful jolt through your body, making you open your eyes.

You blink, trying to stop the blurriness and when you do, you see him.

He stands far back in the shadow of a metal shelf, Soap is closer to you, just behind the marine who’s kneeling in front of you.

The white of his eyes in contrast with the dark makeup around it. The skull peers down at you, his gaze hard, distant, as if he’s looking at a stranger.

Instantly, you realize he’s not your Simon.

He’s a demon, crafted to torture you for eternity, reminding you that you were unable to save him.

Your eyes water.

He’sgonehe’sdeadIlosthim.

You keel forward, alarming the marine and Soap.

“…ey, hey! Stay …wake, don…out!”

Tears spill from your eyes, mixing with the half dried blood on your cheek.

“…’m sorry”, you whimper, gasping for air that isn’t entering your lungs.

You heave like a fish on dry land, You can’t breathe, your brain isn’t getting enough oxygen. You’re dying. Again. Only this time it’s so much worse.

“…anic attack…”, someone grunts, and hands grab you, clinging to you, making your body heavy.

They drag you through the ground into darkness and his name is on your lips when they take you.  

-

Ghost stares at your limp body.

Something is different about you.

Years of combat experience which sharpened his senses and instinct tell him there is something off.

Your reaction before was strange and yes one might say it’s due to your injuries, but he just knows there’s more to it. Somehow, you appear foreign and yet familiar at the same time.

The way you carried yourself was different.

He might be wrong but for him it seemed as if you had lost the jump in your movements, the gait of a rookie.

Hours ago, you had fidgeted with your watch when General Shepherd explained your mission, glancing excitedly and perhaps a bit anxiously at the other task members. Soap had smiled at your demeanour.

Earlier it was different.

The way you handled your rifle, efficient movements, no unnecessary grasp there, no groping for ammunition, just fluid motion, smooth like clockwork. As if you’d done the same for a decade or so. But that’s not true.

And that’s what strange.

But what puzzles him even more was the fact that you called his name- his real name, not his call sign- when you passed out.

What the hell is going on?

[shlonguru]

Can we get one of Alastor fucking you in his radio booth and broadcasting it to fuck with Vox~ pretty please with a cherry on top💕

God thank you so much for your request and this idea, it really inspired me so much and I might do even more with this cause I find it inherently hot hehe. I'm so happy so many people enjoyed the first part of Alastor x Fem!Reader x Vox and I'm a degenerate so I wrote a second. I hope you guys like it too! Enjoy my fellow degenerates! o/

I would also like to thank @wipmoop for their amazing art cover for this smut! They're truly the best you can check them out !

And with this, I present you, drumroll please :

Alastor X Fem!Reader X Vox 2 - Rematch !

Summary : You're tired of waiting for your rematch and decide to take things into your own hands. Are you ready to face the consequences of your actions ?

Warning : 18+, Smut, dirty talking, oral, oral creampie, creampie, threesome, cum swallowing, praise kink, teasing, overstimulation, rough, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bondage, spanking.

Word Count : 4883 words (Yup, it's worse than the first one.)

After the events of the party Alastor brought you back to the hotel, explaining to Charlie that you might’ve hmm…had more than you could handle. She was delighted at the idea of you residing at the hotel and extended an unlimited invitation to you. You had your own room and actually enjoyed the people there more than you thought you would. You thought you’d give redemption a shot. However, you had been dreaming of your rematch with Vox and Alastor and it occupied most of your daily thoughts, as much as you hated to admit it.

It had been 2 weeks since you moved in and you hadn’t really been seeing Alastor since the party, he was a busy man after all, he was usually very polite when he saw you and would give you a hand kiss or wink at you. You hadn’t seen Vox at all since the party, but it wasn’t too surprising. Slowly, you started realizing that you were okay with what happened being a one-off thing.

This day you had just finished exercises with everyone and was chilling having some tea when Charlie exclaimed: “Oh Alastor is hosting his radio show! We should bring him some tea! Where’s Niffty? She’d be super-fast.” She looked around unable to find her.”

“She was chasing a family of roaches last time I saw her.” You explained drinking your tea. “I can bring him if you want.” You offered, not thinking much of it, but knowing the idea of seeing Alastor brought a slight smile to your face.

“Really?” Asked Charlie with sparks in her eyes. “That is such a selfless act I love it!”

“Is it?” You questioned. She nodded furiously before handing you a tray with a cup of tea, some milk, sugar, and some biscuits on it.

You left the group and started making your way to the radio tower. As you approached it you heard the demon speaking into his mic.

“And that my fellows, is why you should never trust a demon whose name starts with a V. I will return in a moment, enjoy this musical break of electro swing.”

You arrived in front of the door and knocked.

“Come in.” You heard.

You entered the room to find Alastor sitting in front of his station, his legs crossed.

“Oh, Hello Dear!” He exclaimed seeing it was you at the door.

“Hi! Charlie asked me to bring you some tea. How’s your show going?” You smiled as you entered the room. Alastor looked at you intensely as you walked past him, his smile as wide as ever, you could feel his gaze on your body, you were wearing a short red dress hugging your shape and flared at the bottom and a pair of black thigh highs. You sat the tray on the coffee table he had next to him and poured him a cup of tea.

“The show is going as well as it needs to be.” He replied coldly, pausing afterwards. “But more importantly, this dress suits you very well, I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since that night at the party.” He proclaimed calmly.

Your face flushed lightly and he noticed. He hadn’t talked about the party since that night and the simple mention of it sent back embarrassing flashbacks to your mind. Not that you regretted it.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed. This is more casual though.” You replied, not looking him in the eyes.

“Is it now Dear?” Asked the demon searching for your gaze then looking you from the bottom up.

“I'm glad you like it." You teased then presented the cup in front of him and thought you noticed a quick glance at your cleavage.

This was enough for you to decide that you had done progress at the hotel and that meant you deserved a little reward, and if you were honest with yourself, you had missed Alastor and Vox’s touch since that night, after all, they had given you a night you could never forget as promised. You had been a good girl but now it was time to drop the act.

You lingered giving him a good look. You then asked innocently: “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He took a good look at you, almost as if he was trying to gauge your intentions. “Actually, I do, would you grab me the mic from the shelf over there.”

“Sure!” You replied smiling. You made your way to the shelf and pretended to struggle to grab the mic which fell to the floor and rolled under the shelf. You then got on all fours and bent over trying to grab it, almost exposing your parts. After grabbing it you stood back up and turned around only to be met with Alastor smiling widely, leaning on the counter of his studio.

“Are you doing okay, Dear?” He grinned tauntingly before taking a sip.

“I don’t know, am I? Here’s your mic.” You handed him the mic. He put down his cup of tea and grabbed the mic slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. He then proceeded to pull swiftly on it, bringing you with it as you hadn’t let go yet. Your body ended up pressed against his.

“You know if you had been craving my attention this badly you should have mentioned it sooner.” He exclaimed looking deep into your eyes.

“Did I crave your attention, or did you miss giving it to me?” You asked smugly smirking back.

“Oh, I can give it to you alright.” He smiled wider, his mouth an inch from yours.

“Do it then.” You smiled back, holding the fold of his jacket.

You felt his lips crash onto yours, the both of you dropping the mic simultaneously. He grabbed your hips tightly pulling you into the kiss, kissing you even deeper as he moved one hand behind your neck. He then lowered his hands to your ass before grabbing both of your cheeks tightly, pulling you off the ground, you legs locking around him instinctively. He turned around, still kissing you while holding your weightless body and sat you on the edge of the counter of his studio. He grabbed both of your wrists and laid you on your back, pinning your hands above your head. He then proceeded to kiss down your neck and onto your cleavage.

“Coming here dressed this way was your mistake.” He smirked.

“Debatable.” You smirked back.

He kept both of your hands pinned together with one of his and took a good look of your flushed, panting, and eager body. While scanning down your body he noticed something that made his eyes widen slightly before he went back to looking into your eyes with a devious smile. His second hand travelled down your body making you realize how sensitive you felt already.

“You might not have missed my attention but this part of you certainly has.” His hand then rubbed against your womanhood, making you realize just how soaked you were already as you squirmed.

“Listen Dear,” he looked at you, still rubbing your pussy, “I’m going to let go of your hands, but you may not touch anything but yourself with them.” He then let go of your hands and pussy before bending over you, resting both of his hands on each side of your head.

“Understood?” He menacingly whispered with a very serious grin.

You nodded.

“Good girl. And be sure to make all of hell know how good you’re feeling.” He smiled before removing his jacket which he threw on his couch.

“Wha-“ You were about to question but then saw him casually turn on the mic of his station. The sign [On Air] turning bright red confirming what you thought.

Alastor then proceeded to kneel in front of you and pull you closer, to the edge of the counter, he then ripped your panties in one movement and started digging in.

You immediately felt his tongue dig deep inside of you, earning a loud moan out of you as he spread your walls. The moans kept pouring as he enthusiastically ate you out, alternating between the inside and the outside of your pussy that he was eating like the first meal he’d had in days. He kept moving his tongue in motions that sent jolts up and down your body.

Before you realized, your hands had made their way into Alastor’s hair, pulling slightly as the pleasure intensified. You only noticed when the pleasure stopped. You looked down, confused, and immediately realized your mistake, letting go of his hair, as the tall demon stood back on his feet, looking at you calmly, which somehow made it scarier.

“Didn’t we agree on you touching nothing but yourself? See not only have you not touched yourself, but you’ve also touched me, and I am not part of you, yet.” He said menacingly.

“Sorry…” You muttered.

“Too late Darling, I’m afraid bad girls need to be disciplined.”

You stared at him as you witnessed him calmly removing his bowtie then grabbing both of your wrists once again, this time tying them together, in a very tight fashion.

“Good.” He exclaimed proud of his work.

And with that he resumed eating you out, this time more aggressively. You felt your walls tighten as he attacked them relentlessly, grabbing your thighs with both of his hands. Your moans were getting louder and louder as his name poured continuously out of your mouth until you felt the knot that had been building up break and the orgasm wash over your body, making your legs shake in the process.

“Holy shit…” You blurted, panting hard as you watched Alastor stand up and give you a quick kiss.

“See, you know how to be a good girl.” He whispered in your ear before licking your ear lobe. You felt his throbbing crotch press against yours.

Before any of you could add anything, you saw a glowing blue circle draw itself around the both of you.

“What is th-“ You couldn’t finish your sentence as you felt yourself fall down through what had now obviously been a portal. The radio demon fell with you, though in a much classier and composed manner, almost as if he knew it was coming.

You felt yourself land on something soft and looked around. It was a very large bed. Alastor had landed comfortably on his feet next to the bed.

“Took him long enough…” He huffed.

You scanned the room; it was very large and luxurious, like a palace. It was a giant bedroom with huge French windows, and tall wooden doors at its entrance. As soon as you laid your eyes on said doors they opened violently.

“The fuck is wrong with you !?” Yelled the handsome tall demon entering the room. It was a very furious Vox. Seeing him furious made you immediately crave him.

“Well, hello to you too.” Smiled Alastor, still in the same relaxed position.

“Why would you broadcast her for all of hell to listen to? Have you lost your mind?” He screamed unable to compose himself.

“I only did so long enough for you to notice.” He mentioned “And if you were so bothered by it, then maybe you should have noticed sooner.” He smiled wider.

“What a dumbass.” Vox walked past Alastor and arrived in front of you. He smiled for the first time.

“Long time no see y/n !” He leaned in front of you making you blush as you took a good look at his handsome figure.

“Hi Vox! I’ve missed you!” You smiled with your face still flushed from your orgasm. He held your chin up gently.

“Fuck I really missed that hot face of yours, I’m sorry you were stuck with such an ungrateful prick for so long, I knew you should’ve moved into my place instead. You’ve clearly gone way too long without getting some well-deserved action, which would have never happened here by the way.” He said that last part louder on purpose. He looked down for a second. “Dear, you are making my sheets wet already, did you really miss me that much?” He smiled looking at your exposed parts, dripping onto the bed.

“We could have settled on a date to have our rematch instead of you exposing her to every lowlife that would listen.” He turned to Alastor.

“Our dear friend couldn’t wait any longer and well I guess I had to take matters into my own hands.” He said innocently.

“You’re such a piece of shit.” Proclaimed Vox with a wide grin on his face, briefly glitching. “I see you’re unable to try and beat me without a head start you radio bastard.”

“It’s not like I was doing anything you could do anyways, Mr. Flat-screen-no-tongue.” The redhead smirked.

“Oh really?” He glitched lightly. “Sit back, relax and shut the fuck up.”

He turned to you, and away from Alastor.

“Y/n! Time to get that rematch baby! Get your ass on the edge of that bed and spread those legs for me!”

Your body moved on its own at this command, and you managed to sit up at the edge of the bed despite your wrists still tied together and sat with your thighs spread open, revealing your most intimate part which couldn’t lie about how much you wanted this. Vox looked at you intensely, taking in the sight he had missed more than he thought he had and bent over resting one hand on his knee, the other holding the bowtie tying your wrists together with a finger.

“Has someone been a bad girl~?” He teased.

“That’s entirely possible.” You smirked back. You could tell from his face he liked that. He let go of your wrists and grabbed both of your thighs tightly, making you lose your balance and fall back onto the bed. The next instant, you sensed something that felt like a tongue slide inside your pussy. It sent immediate literal jolts up your body, earning a loud moan out of you that surprised even you. You came a little from that but didnt say anything, you moved your head, looking at what was going on down there and saw a big blue tongue, sliding out of Vox’s screen and eating out your deepest parts.

“Oh wow!” You exclaimed not knowing what to make of the mix of intense pleasure, surprise and shock you were feeling. A quick glance behind Vox and you saw Alastor roll his eyes unbothered having a cup of tea on the sofa not too far. You didn’t have time to really process anything as the TV demon kept eating you out aggressively, making your orgasm come sooner than you would have expected. You had absolutely no control over how fast it was building up, you just felt it snap and felt yourself come, arching your back embracing the wave of pleasure, grabbing your dress tightly as you did so.

You felt the tongue pull out of you and giving your whole pussy a good lick before Vox stood back up, wiping his face with a satisfied look on his it.

“Fuck you’re so hot when you come.” He blurted trying to keep his composure, but you could already see his member throbbing through his pants.

“Are you done with your ridiculous endeavor? An attempt to prove what exactly?” Exclaimed Alastor in a tone he tried to portray as nonchalant, but everyone else could tell he was ticked off. “Can’t you see she comes so easily you could barely even consider it a challenge.”

That statement pissed you off because as much as you were enjoying yourself you didn’t like being underestimated.

“I had no idea my enjoying myself would make you this insecure?” You responded smirking in your brattiest tone.

“Oh, I like you more and more.” Said Vox raising his brows and smiling at you.

You could swear you noticed an eye twitch on Alastor.

“You brat…clearly if you’re still feeling this confident then we haven’t gone hard enough on you.” He declared with a wicked smile scaring you as much as it turned you on. Alastor teleported onto the bed next to you, grabbed your hair firmly into a ponytail and pulled you further into the large bed, leaving you no choice but to follow him on your knees before pulling your face close to his. Your tied hands were hanging down in front of you as you looked up at the radio demon. “I guess we’ll have to fix that.” He kissed you deeply shoving his tongue in your mouth making your head spin. He pulled away from the kiss for a second.

“Sorry Dear, I am but a terrible spectator.” He went back into the kiss making you dizzy as he pulled down the top of your dress making your breasts bounce out of it. He grabbed one of your tit with his free hand, pinching your nipple and making you whine softly.

"Now you’re going to use all that confidence you were so proud of just seconds ago and you’re going to take it all in.” He let go of you and you fell on all fours, now facing his crotch. You took a good look and immediately noticed how tight his pants looked around his cock, it almost looked painful. With your tied wrists you unzipped his pants, pulling out your reward.

‘Was it this big last time?’ you thought to yourself. A slight look of surprise covering your face for a brief instant.

“Yes, it was.” Replied the radio demon, as if he had read your mind. “You were just too eager to notice.” He finished. You blushed heavily before giving your best shot at taking as much of his member as you could in your mouth, it amounted to about 2/3 of his manhood.

“Not quite, Dear, here, let me give you a hand.” He chuckled before shoving your face down his member, lodging it all the way down your throat. You couldn’t breathe but it still felt good, you pussy was quivering and dripping, and Vox noticed.

“Damn, look at your cunt, don’t worry I gotchu.” You heard Vox who was right behind you and the moment after felt him give your ass a hard spank. That made you moan loudly, and you knew Alastor felt it when you heard a groan coming from him, you looked up only to be met with an intense and serious gaze filled with lust coming from the radio demon. His hands were both in your hair, guiding your mouth up and down, enjoying himself.

Vox stood right behind you, and you heard his pants unzip. Immediately after, you felt one of his hands rest on your hips and the tip of his cock rub against your entrance teasingly.

“Have you missed that?” He asked, lust exuding off his tone. After a few seconds of his teasing, you wanted to beg for him to insert it but you mouth was too full for that.

“Come on…” He teased, knowing he put you in an impossible position.

In one motion you pulled your mouth off Alastor’s cock and pleaded loudly. “Vox please I need your cock in me!” You looked at him with a lewd look on your face .

Seeing you in that state made him blush briefly before he composed himself again.

“Fucking finally! You’re so fucking hot!” He groaned loudly pushing all of him inside of you in one go making you scream of pleasure in the process. You immediately felt Alastor grab your hair in the same fashion he had moments ago, pulling your face close and squinting.

“Let’s not get distracted now, shall we?” He demanded sternly.

Vox felt you tighten around him as you heard those words, pulling an involuntary moan out of him.

“You naughty girl, you’re loving this aren’t you?” He spanked roughly you before starting to thrust at a rather fast pace.

“Obviously.” Declared Alastor smiling before shoving your face back onto his cock. He was the one thrusting now, in fact, they both were and soon enough, you felt that coil build up once again in your insides. Your eyes rolled back as you felt the knot snap.

Vox felt you tighten almost uncomfortably around his member as you came. He grabbed both of our ass cheeks tightly.

“That’s right, come for me!” He groaned throwing his head back and fucking you through your climax, holding your ass tightly then spanking it.

You had just finished coming when you felt Alastor pull out of your mouth. You exhaled loudly catching your breath.

“Good job not suffocating, here’s your reward.” Said Alastor grabbing your panting figure, pulling you off Vox and propping you onto his cock as he stood on his knees, you were still panting but it was now intertwined with moans as he effortlessly moved you up and down his member. You moved your tied up wrists over his head, wrapping your arms around his neck and grabbing it gently, you kissed him softly yet longingly as the moans continuously flooded out of your mouth. You felt his member grow thicker inside of you, as expressed by your moans becoming louder. Your kiss was interrupted by the TV overlord who grabbed your chin, turning your face away from the radio demon.

“Now you can’t just give all your holes away so easily my dear.” He said calmly standing bent over next to you.

“My apologies.” You replied looking up into his eyes.

“You’re forgiven.” He added with a smooth voice before you felt his lips meet yours. You were surprised at how soft they felt, and you had just found out he could do such a thing. He probably didn’t do it every day, but he was such a good kisser, you were dazzled by the kiss before he pulled out of it.

“Now open up dove, we’re not done just yet.” He grinned.

He hadn’t finished his sentence that you had opened your mouth, eagerly awaiting him.

“My god you’re such a good little slut.” He laughed not able to contain himself any longer, he pushed himself deep into your mouth and moaned loudly as he did so, you started moving your head swallowing his member to the base each time.

You hadn’t noticed because of how gradual it had been, but Alastor was now moving much faster than how he had started, hitting your deepest parts each time.

“Are you going to come again and prove me right?” Alastor smirked at you, pausing his thrusting for a moment and spanking your ass roughly. You moaned loudly around Vox’s cock and stopped moving as he immediately grabbed your head and kept the thrusting going.

“Nuh uh, you can’t stop yet.” The TV demon said as he kept pumping in and out of your mouth.

You looked at Alastor from the corner of your eye.

“What is it sweetheart? The TV got your tongue?” He spanked you again this time harder. Your pussy tightened around him, and he felt it, making his grin widen even more.

You looked at him trying your hardest to stay in control.

“Aww you still think you can decide whether you come or not. How adorable…I guess it’s time I teach you this lesson.” He squinted his eyes challengingly before he spanked you one last time, harder than all the other time, this time immediately grabbing both of your ass cheeks very firmly, not breaking eye contact with you.

“I…” He slammed you against his cock. “…decide…” He slammed harder. “…if…” He slammed even harder, digging his nails into your ass. “…and when…” He slammed hard and you felt yourself dangerously close to the edge. “…you come!” He grinned, slamming one last time harder than you had ever felt him thrust in you and he saw your eyes roll back as your pussy started pulsating around his cock. You moaned loudly around Vox’s cock, who pulled out just in time to hear it aloud. You were panting hard, your whole body going limp.

Vox grabbed your face and pressed your cheeks together bringing his face close to yours. “You’ll relax soon enough bitch, but we’re not done yet.” He then proceeded to grab you off Alastor and prop you once again on all fours. You were wobbly at best. “Come on are you already exhausted? After all this big talk?” He spanked you now red ass making you whine. You moaned softly and looked at him with pleading eyes. Your legs felt weak from all this thrusting and climaxing, and he could tell. He let out a soft sigh.

“Here. Let me give you a hand.” He grabbed one of your legs and propped it on his shoulder. “Now you’re going to take it like a good girl?” He looked at you his eyes focusing intensely on you.

“Yes, Sir.” You pleaded. As soon as he heard those words coming out of your mouth he felt an irrepressible urge to take you and you felt all of him enter you once more, at this point your pussy being overstimulated felt so sensitive everything felt ten times more intense. You moaned loudly while your tongue hung out of your mouth, and you gripped the sheets tightly as Vox started thrusting more roughly than he previously had.

Alastor, seeing your tongue hanging and your mouth open, took this opportunity to push himself inside your mouth and started thrusting.

“Enjoy your own taste dear, because you’re about to taste me.” He declared with a sadistic gaze on his now flushed face. You loved seeing the evolution of his boldness as lust took over.

“Shit you’re so fucking tight!” Vox thrusted hard, gritting his teeth, and digging his nails into your thigh, pulling it close against his chest as he lost himself in pleasure, his movement becoming more erratic as he glitched and he brought himself closer to the final release, nevertheless, he never failed to hit your G-spot with each thrust. You felt it coming, despite your best efforts, they both felt you tense up more and more. You still did a great job wrapping your tongue around the radio demon’s shaft, you heard his breath get shakier as he maintained composure fucking your mouth, one hand under your chin and the other in your hair.

You felt the knot about to snap as you hear them both declare as one:

“Are you ready?”

They both thrusted deep in you one last time, releasing simultaneously, filling you up from both sides as you came one last time, almost seeing stars at this point.

Alastor let out the closest thing to a moan as he emptied himself directly down your throat tightening around his member, slowly pulling himself out afterwards and enjoying the sight of your dazed expression.

“Good job.” He patted your cheek smiling and slightly panting, much more relaxed than a few moments ago.

Vox pulled out next and you immediately collapsed onto the bed, cum flowing out of you.

“Holy shit you felt so fucking good!” Vox also felt all sorts of dizzy after his orgasm. He quickly got a grip and they both grabbed what was necessary to clean you up, laying you down comfortably after Alastor removed his bowtie from your sore wrists and Vox handed you one of his shirts to wear.

You were fast asleep and woke up probably a few hours later to both of them having tea in the corner of the room.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you can’t talk your way into being better in bed, she literally blacked out after I made her come, that’s how good it was.” Expressed Vox with frustration.

“Maybe that or you were just so boring she fell asleep.” Replied Alastor calmly sipping his tea.

“Fuck off, weren’t you facefucking her as well? Wouldn’t that make you boring by extension?” He proclaimed, anger taking over his tone.

Alastor ignored him. You moved in the bed making it creak and earning their attention.

“Oh, looks like our friend has finally awaken from her great slumber.” Announced the radio demon.

They both arrived by your side as you fully came to.

“Hello beautiful.” Exclaimed Vox, with his usual smile and composure. “How are we doing?”

“Well!” You replied attempting to stretch then realizing how sore your whole body felt. “Never mind.” You added.

They both smiled with a satisfied look on their face, almost as if admiring their work.

“Yeah, you need to rest. Next time try not to bite off more than you can chew sweetheart.” Declared Vox with Alastor nodding approvingly next to him.

“Any idea who performed best this time Dear?” Asked the radio demon.

“I mean, it’s hard to give you an answer when you both do whatever you want at all times.” You said with a hint of frustration. “Maybe if you both stuck to one hole, I would be able to tell.” You added, genuinely trying to recall all the events in the right order.

“Hmm, No.”

“Nope.” They both proclaimed simultaneously.

“We will, however, keep fucking you until you give us an answer.” Gloated Vox with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“I’m afraid it’s the only way.” Added Alastor calmly.

“Fair.” You conceded.

‘Holy shit what did I get myself into…’ You thought to yourself.

“Now, rest my dear, you’re going to need it.” Said Vox still smiling at you before vanishing into electricity out of the room.

“I’ll see you soon Darling.” Declared Alastor before smiling and disappearing into a shadow.

To be continued...

Vox is genuinely so effortless to write. I love how versatile he can be, Alastor on the other hand is rough -.- but once I'm done I can fully appreciate it.

PS : I know Alastor is Aroace and I hope no one takes offense to my work. I genuinely take pleasure in writing smuts and I've been loving his personality that's all.

Peace out ! o/

[lxkeee]

Just read your thing about lucifer with a morticia addams like character, and I already had alot of thoughts like, how would it be if lucifer then took her to the hotel to introduce her to the others, what would it have been like if she was at the hotel when lucifer came to see charlie, things like that, it was so great!

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

—part two!

I'm gonna add a little twist to this;)

Which is jealous Lucifer lmfao.

PART ONE |

“Darling, are you sure you wanted me to be there? I don't want to intrude on your little family reunion with your daughter.” [y/n] says, her hand over her hips as she looked down (literally) on him. Her antlers form a shadow over his form, majestic.

“Darling, I promise you won't be intruding and yes, I want you to be there. I need your support.” Lucifer says pleading making [y/n] sigh softly, a small smile on her face.

“Alright, anything to make my darling happy.” she says with a giggle.

Everything she says and does makes his knees weak.

He's whipped.

Arriving at the hotel, [y/n] told him he should go inside first as she needed to take care of some... Pests...

Both of them are powerful beings so they are bound to have enemies that follows them.

[y/n] managed to sense those familiar presence who always wanted to take her down but failed spectacularly.

“Wait... I should go with you.” Lucifer says worriedly, holding her hands. [Y/n] just squeezing his hands in assurance.

“Do not fret, it's not something I can't handle and besides, they're nothing but pesky roaches that I could easily crush with a flick of my finger.” [y/n] says with a smirk before leaning down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I will return quickly, and enjoy some personal time with your daughter. You owe it to her, hmm?” she says with a raised eyebrow and Lucifer sighs before nodding with a smile.

“Alright, just... Be careful okay? Promise me.” Lucifer says with a worried tone, [y/n] had to pat his hear.

“Of course, darling. I'll always come back to you.” she says with a small genuine smile, her sharp teeth can be seen before morphing her body into a shadow and camouflages with the surrounding shadows. Leaving him behind to deal with the threat near the hotel.

Lucifer sighs before eventually walking towards the door of the hotel.

Lucifer eventually met the staff and guests of the hotel along with Charlie. He doesn't like that Alastor guy, gives him bad vibes.

“And this is Niffty, she's our house cleaner.” Charlie introduces as Niffty begins to crawl Lucifer just so she could face him face to face, “I clean.” Niffty says with a giggle.

Charlie was nervous to say the least, she's nervous about what her dad is thinking about the hotel. Suddenly there was a knock on the hotel door.

The sound causing everyone to keep quiet. Charlie decided to open the door to see the infamous shadow demon, standing tall and ominous with a large grin on her face.

“Gree—” the tall demoness greeted but was cut off as the door was slammed shut.

Charlie decided to open it again to make sure she didn't imagine things, didn't imagine one of hell's powerful overlords in her doorstep, “tings—” the demoness continued but the door was slammed shut again.

Lucifer had to face palm while Alastor's grin widened as he heard the familiar voice of his deer friend (badum tsss) while also feeling a sense of deja vu.

“Charlie, dear. Can you open the door? It is rude to slam the door on someone's face.” Lucifer sighs with a chuckle making Charlie laugh nervously before eventually opening the door.

“May I speak now?” the tall demoness asked with a grin.

“You may.” Charlie said hesitantly but her hand was quickly grabbed as the demoness shook her hand.

“It is finally a pleasure to meet you sweetheart, your dad has been telling me so many good things about you!” the demoness says with a large grin on her face as she entered the hotel.

The princess of hell was confused.

“Wait... My dad told you things about me...?” Charlie asked as Lucifer walked beside the tall demoness.

“Um yes... Charlie, I would like you to meet [y/n] she's my.... lover...” Lucifer says, voice getting shyer at the end.

Charlie blinked, [y/n] just grins.

Charlie finally processed his words.

“She's your girlfriend?!” Charlie asked, mouth agape.

“Yes, for a few months now.” Lucifer says with a chuckle.

The others just stared at the couple, blinking as they tried to process it.

Well... They are both powerful and they kinda look like each other's type. They thought as they looked at the two.

“My word, I didn't expect you to snag the king of hell my dear friend.” Alastor says with a smirk, his familiar static voice catching [y/n]'s attention.

Lucifer's eyes twitch. This bastard knows his woman?

“Is that Alastor I hear?” [y/n] says with a grin, morphing her body into shadows as she teleports next to Alastor's side.

“[y/n]! It's been awhile since I've last seen you, how have you been my dearest friend?” Alastor greeted, bowing down to place a gentle kiss on [y/n]'s knuckles, a subtle smirk on his face.

Lucifer's left eye twitched as he looked at the scene in front of him.

He's not angry at [y/n], no, no. He is pissed at Alastor though.

“I should be the one asking you that! You've disappeared for seven years, I thought you already kicked the bucket my friend.” [y/n] laughs and Alastor laughed with her.

Lucifer quickly appeared on [y/n]'s side, holding a protective arm around her waist.

“Darling, I didn't know you're acquainted with this man.” Lucifer asked, his eyes glaring at Alastor.

[y/n] just chuckles, intertwining her hand with Lucifer's hand.

“Alastor here is an overlord so it would make sense we know each other. Considering we have our annual overlord meetings.” [y/n] explained, giving him assurance.

Alastor finds entertainment in teasing others and right now is a perfect opportunity to tease the king of hell more.

“[y/n] here is a charming woman, her presence is a real head turner. I couldn't resist getting acquainted with her.” Alastor says with a grin.

The others just looking at the scene happening between the three.

“Oohh... Drama...” Angel whispers to Husk, making Husk chuckle.

*cue the chandelier falling in front of them*

*cue the hell's greatest dad scene.*

[y/n] sighs, a small smile on her face as he watched Lucifer being shown around the hotel by Charlie and Alastor. [Y/n] decided to stay in the lobby as she wanted to get acquainted with others.

“So you and the short king?” Angel says making [y/n] snort.

“Indeed, quite a catch really.” [y/n] chuckles as she sat on the bar stool. Husk preparing her a drink.

“You know what they say, the shorter the height the bigger the—” Angel was cut off by Husk.

“I swear to God if you say dick!” Husk remarked.

“Heart! Goodness, Husk. Get your mind out of the gutter!” Angel laughed.

[Y/n] bursts out laughing, these people are so fun to be around.

“Goodness, you guys are so hilarious!” [y/n] says in between laughs.

Safe to say the others warmed up to her and her to them.

[y/n] spent the rest of her time just joking with the others, occasionally giving Niffty cleaning tips and Vaggie some suggestions on how to improve the hotel.

*Cue the loan sharks destroying the hotel*

Lucifer and [y/n] stood next to each other as they watched Alastor deal with the loan sharks. [Y/n] had an amazed look in her eyes while Lucifer just watched in slight caution.

[y/n] may be the type of demon who finds joy in others pain but at this moment, she places her hand on Lucifer's shoulder as a warning. [Y/n] can tell that Charlie was getting upset from Lucifer's remarks.

“Darling, calm down.” [y/n] says softly but Lucifer's emotions are controlling his actions.

“How can he have faith in me but my own father can't?” Charlie asked, clearly upset.

“Charlie, sweetie...” [y/n] says softly, approaching the poor girl. Squeezing the poor girl's hands in assurance.

Mother is mothering fr.

[y/n] can sense that Charlie and Lucifer needed to talk this out. Giving the girl a pat on her head before walking to Lucifer's side.

“Lucifer... I think it's time to tell her.” [y/n] says softly in his ear. Squeezing his hand in assurance before joining the others. Angel offered her some popcorn which she gladly accepted.

[y/n] looked so proud, watching the father and daughter hug each other. Her eyes sparkled in amazement as she looked at Lucifer's wings. It never fails to mesmerize her.

Lucifer finally agreeing in scheduling Charlie a meeting with heaven.

“Good luck, kiddo.” Lucifer says and extends his hand towards [y/n]'s direction. [Y/n] accepting his hand.

“You can do it Charlie.” [y/n] grins before the couple finally left the hotel in puff of sparkling red smoke.

“I hope Miss [y/n] visits, I like her.” Niffty says with a small laugh.

“Your dad's new lover doesn't seem so bad.” Vaggie says as she stood beside Charlie.

Charlie just smiled, “Yeah, she doesn't seem so bad.”

Charlie is glad her father found someone like [y/n], she can see the chemistry between the two.

“Are you okay?” [y/n] asked softly as she spooned Lucifer on his bed. Her arms wrapped protectively around him.

“I'll be fine. Thanks for being here with me.” Lucifer says softly, blushing slightly as he felt her place a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck.

“Anytime.” she says softly.

[penelopepine]

Forever in Your Gaze Pt. 5 (Final)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem Reader

Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Night at the museum AU. Gaz and Reader are both paintings directly across from one another, and have been in love for many years now. The only thing is that they are unable to actually leave the confines of their canvas, and have never felt others touch.

Word Count: 2529

Content: Established relationship, fluff, light angst, gunshots, wounds, car accidents

The sound stops Kyle in his tracks for all but a moment before he runs towards it. Even as he runs it continues to echo in his ears. To hear that sound he knows that something truly dire is happening, and that Price is in trouble. 

As he runs he continues to hurriedly make his way down the halls as he passes others who are actively trying to get as far away from the current situation. It annoyingly slows him down when he knows that every second right now counts. 

It takes Kyle a few minutes to finally find the source, and when he does he finds that Ghost, Soap, Alex, and Farah are already there. They're huddled up by one of the entrances to one of the open spaces; he can see you are also already here, but by the opposite entrance.  He is glad to know where you are, and that you’re ok for now. At the same time though he wished that you would turn, and walk away, he knew you wouldn’t though. Not when Price was laying on the ground, his leg clearly bleeding, and a strange man standing above him with a gun. 

“What the fuck?" The man shouts; hardening his stance and grip, "That bastard wasn't lying after all!" He grins while looking at all of them.

"You're outnumbered. Let my friend there get up, and maybe you'll get out here alive." Ghost simply states taking a single step forward, and unsheathes his sword.

The man chuckles as he puts a foot on Price's chest; forcing him onto his back, "I don't think so. I might not be able to hurt you, but I can hurt your friend before you even get close to me."  

This ultimately does stop Ghost from approaching any further. As much as it pains him to do nothing he knows that Price would already be gone by the time they got close enough to attack. The only thing they can really do now is to try and negotiate with the man, and find out why he's here.  "What do you want? You're obviously here for something. So what is it?" Kyle inquires.

The man presses down on Price's chest causing him to grunt in pain, "I don't think I have to explain anything actually; besides you'll find out soon enough." He says before looking in your direction an almost manic grin spreads onto his face.

If Kyle had been paying more attention he would have noticed a shadowy figure walking behind you. Unfortunately it's only when the man looks at you, and you let out a loud gasp does he see that Shepherd is standing right next to you. 

"Graves! Stop messing around, and get with the program. Let's get what we need and go!" Shepherd yells at the man now identified to them. Kyle can only think of one thing they'd be here for, and seeing your frame in Shepherd's hands only confirms it to him. 

"Shepherd?" Price grits out; anger more present in his voice then pain. "You son of a bitch! You knew this whole time?"

Looking lazily over towards Price Shepherd answers him with, “Of course I knew. With how many years I’ve been here, and you think I wouldn’t have known?” He then focuses his attention on you as he takes a step forward, and at the same time you take a step away. “Now you need to get back into this frame.” 

“No!” Kyle starts to walk to you, but Graves at the same time re-straightens his aim towards Price. Stopping him before he can even take one step, “Don’t get into the frame!” He desperately calls out. 

You glance in his direction with a grimace, before turning back to Shepherd; it was clear that you were debating what to do right now. Looking around to see how the others are reacting to this, and while everyone else is looking on at the scene in front of them with varying degrees of anger. Farah on the other hand is not where she once stood. 

Kyle at this point finally noticed how everytime Shepherd or Graves looked away, Farah would take a step back; making her way behind them all. With her next step he moves to stand completely in front of her, efficiently blocking her from view from the two intruders. 

As he looks back he sees Farah give him a quick nod before silently making her way down the hall and eventually around the corner. Kyle wasn’t sure what she had planned, but he trusts that it’ll be something to help them with the current situation. He can’t think about that too much right now though; not when you’re being held by the man that wants to take you away from him.

“Final warning! Get in willingly or Price here is getting a second shot to match his first, and he won’t be getting up again if he does.” Shepherd threatens again while gesturing towards Price and your frame, giving you the choice of what you have to choose from. 

“Gaz,” You stare into his soul; your eyes have a glassy look to them, “I’m sorry.” Slowly you stagger towards Shepherd and Kyle can do nothing but watch as you are encompassed once more into the frame. 

A truly sinister grins spreads onto Shepherd’s face as you are fully consumed. He then flicks his gaze up; taking in everyone in front of him now before finally barking, “Graves, march out." 

With those words Graves slowly releases Price from under his boot, but keeps his gun trained on him even as he walks backwards towards Shepherd. Once they are standing side by side Shepherd tilts his head, and whispers something in the ear of the man beside him. In just a flash Graves is raising his arm and shooting the light in the middle of the room; casting darkness all around them. The only lights now coming from the halls. 

Immediately the four of them are rushing forward to get to Price. Looking up though Kyle sees the shadows of the two men running down the halls towards the docking area. 

“Gaz, go!” Price yells at him; his voice still filled with pain. “Don’t let them get away. I’ll be fine.” 

He’s not going to argue with that, and is just as quickly racing down the hall trying to catch up. While running he notices that a second pair of footsteps are coming up from behind him. Looking back he sees that Ghost is actually right in step with him now. Something else that he noticed was how eerily quiet the museum seems to be. Usually there would be all kinds of soft chatters coming from all directions; he would have thought with the situation that there would be even more. 

Upon finally reaching the docking bay Kyle sees both of them already hopping into a white van. Very muffled he can make out your shouts for him. It's that that drives him to run faster; if only he had gotten here sooner. Try as he might, he is no match for a speeding vehicle. 

Kyle falls to his knees just as the van reaches the end of the driveway as they are about to enter the street. There is no way he could possibly catch them at this point. He failed; you're gone. Ghost who is standing beside him places a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort his friend.

Just as they hurriedly pull out about to drive into the darkness a car comes seemingly out of nowhere, and crashes into the van; stopping both vehicles in their tracks.  Ghost is first to react to the scene in front of them; his comforting hand turns into grabbing Kyle by the arm, and dragging him into a full sprint towards the crash. "Don't mourn yet, Gaz. We can still get her back!" 

Before he can start running back he notices that Ghost is no longer with him. Instead he is standing by the car that hit the van. The window is rolled down, and just as he's about to call out to Ghost to start running the person in the car becomes visible.  "Roach?" 

"Hi, Gaz!"

"Enough chatter let's go!" Ghost booms out to them. He opens the door, and practically lifts Roach out of the car before the three of them are running back to the museum door. 

Just as they enter and the door is about to shut behind them Kyle can hear Shepherd yelling at something at Graves. He doesn't get a chance to hear properly though before the heavy door slams shut. 

"Kyle" Your voice so relieved, as you gaze into his eyes, "I love you so much." 

"And I love you. You're also going to end up killing me with how many times you have almost been taken from me." 

Before more can be said it's Roach who interrupts them, "And I love you both, but now is not the time! Price is still hurt, and if everything in here went to plan everyone else should be waiting for us in the lobby." 

Kyle continues to hold you and your frame as they make their way quickly to the lobby. Once there he sees that Soap, Alex, and Farah are all standing around Price, who is now sitting at the receptionist's desk, his leg bandaged up. Upon seeing them in the lobby as well a breath of relief is released from all of them. 

Soap though is jumping from his seat, and running towards Roach once he sees that he is here as well. “Roach! What are you doing here?” 

“I got a call saying you all could use some help.” Roach says while nodding his head towards Farah as he continues to walk towards the desk with everyone else. 

Remembering that he had watched Farah leave while they were dealing with Shepherd he asked her, “Is that what you did, call Roach?” Kyle by now is standing by Price as he sets your frame on ground, finally allowing you to get out of the frame, holding you tight to his side as soon as he’s able to. 

“Roach isn’t the only one I called, Laswell is on her way as well.” Farah explains, “Everyone in the museum should be following the emergency protocol. We’ll need to join them soon. Laswell said that she was going to be calling law enforcement when I told her what happened.” 

Before more can be said faint shouting can be heard coming from deeper in the museum, it is instantly identifiable as coming from Shepherd. Coincidentally a second later red and blue lights start to shine through the lobby windows.  

Price is fast to take control of the situation. He calls your name, and tells you to get back into the painting, “As for the rest of you. Follow the protocol; go back to your areas, and call it a night. No one is going to be out in the halls tonight.” 

Alex, Farah, Soap, and Ghost promptly follow his command and rush back to their spots. All the while making sure to avoid interacting with Shepherd. Who’s voice is only growing louder as he gets closer. 

Kyle on the other hand doesn’t leave right away; instead takes a few seconds to pull you into a kiss, and give you a promise. “You’re not going to be taken again. We’ll see eachother again.” 

“I’ll take care of her, Gaz. No one will be taking her away while I have her.” Roach comes up reassuring you both with his words. Roach knew how important you two were to each other, and he wasn’t one to break a promise. 

By this time the sirens are getting louder, and lights seem to be getting closer. Kyle takes a few moments though to help you back in before reluctantly returning to his own frame. It wasn’t until he was just about to enter when he heard the echo of several people yelling. It takes everything for him to not turn around, and run to you. 

The urge gets even stronger once he has to then sit there for half an hour listening to it. For all he knows someone he cares about could be hurt, and what is he doing? Just sitting in a frame not doing anything to help them. 

It’s strange though how the silence afterwards is almost worse. He would have popped out, and went to investigate if not for his respect for Price. He had drilled it into everyone in here that emergency protocol means not moving for the rest of the night; just to be safe. 

If he had to guess it was 2 hours of silence later when Laswell appeared right in front of him. 

“Gaz, good to see you again my friend. I’ve heard that you’re able to move out of your frame. You’ll have to tell me all about that at a later date.” She says right away not even waiting for him to react to her presence. “For now though, follow me. There’s someone waiting for you in the lobby.” 

There’s only one person he can think of that would be waiting for him right now. Quickly he gets out once more, what was once a fight is now as simple as swimming through water. On the slow walk he can’t help but ask Laswell questions that he desperately wants to know. “Laswell, how is Price doing right now?” 

“Price is doing well. He’s lucky that the shot was clean, and with a bit of rest he’ll be just fine. Roach is with him right now; he should be helping the old man out right now.” 

“And what of Shepherd and Graves?” 

Laswell shoots him a small smile before answering, “Those two have been arrested. They’re not going to be bothering us anymore; for certain this time.” 

“Why do all this though? They were already under investigation; they had to have known the risk of doing this.”  

“Apparently your girl already had a high buyer from what I’ve heard. They were most likely going to cash in on that before fleeing the country.” 

Before Kyle can ask anything more they arrive at the opening to the lobby, and right there in the moonlight is you. Looking as beautiful as ever; it strangely feels similar to the first time he met you. He strides towards you, and as soon as you're in reach he’s pulling you into his arms; lifting you off the ground as he spins. 

Laswell, who had been forgotten about once he saw you walks closer to you both before saying, “I see you two are doing well. I’ll go ahead and leave you two here then. I’m going to be in my office for the next few hours.” 

It’s quiet as you both watch her slowly disappear down one of the halls, but once she does you two are immediately on eachother. 

After all that has happened tonight the only thing Kyle wants is to feel you against him. “Please never leave my gaze again.” 

“I will forever be in your gaze.” 

Note: IT'S DONE!!! I hope everyone who has read this far enjoyed this. Feel free to tell me your thoughts!

Taglist: @zarsghost @nexthyperfix @kaoyamamegami @thigh-o-saur @clear-your-mind-and-dream

@cod-z @xlittlebubx-blog

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi, congrats on 5K followers, I love your stories, I've just started following you and by chance, I found your "Gentle Worship" while looking for something interesting about Keegan and I'm happy to have come across a page with a lots of weel-written and interesting stories :)) I have had a look at the characters you write about and after intense evaluation I would like to ask you to kill me with an intense domestic fluff with Gary "Roach" Sanderson, where Gary came home the night before his due date, exhausted after an intense and dangerous OP, and finds f!reader dancing wild and singing "The Nights" by Avicii while preparing Gary's favorite biscuits and he watches her in awe because she is very out of tune and never sings in front of him. Have a nice day and congratulations again :))

—Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

The door was unlocked and the music was blaring, and that alone made him more nervous than he’d been the past three months. Gary had just come home—back to you, back to your warmth and the scent of your shared home. While exhausted, nothing could wake him up more than your safety potentially being on the line.

He knew best, music to block out any noise; an unlocked door—a remnant of something gone wrong. 

Gary drops his bags on the steps and barrels through, hand already reaching for the gun set in the back of his belt as his eyes gain a sheen of panic. Nevermind his aches and pains—the desperate burn for sleep behind his eyes, no, his heart was hammering as fast as a hurricane; hard in his breast. Boots hitting the rugs you’d placed in the entryway, he blinks quickly and scans the area. 

Yet with the barrier gone, Gary can hear far better. All at once, the man’s body sags with relief at what his ears twitch to. 

Singing. Off-tune, off-key, feminine singing. 

Your singing. 

The silent man sighs long and puts a hand to his face, rubbing into his eye sockets firmly to push back the pounding of his skull. Blond tendrils of his hair obscure his gaze, waiting only a second to take it all in before he sets them back with his fingers. 

Standing like a fool in the foyer with his gun drawn and the door open to a dark, rainy sky, the Sergeant shakes his head with a growing smile and slips the weapon away. On his way to slowly grab his bags and shut the door—which he’d have to speak to you about being locked when he was away—he listens. 

Hell, how could he not? 

Gary hums along to the song, loud beside your own voice. You weren’t trying to sing seriously, he knows, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful to him. Even your little voice cracks and the embarrassed laugh you lend yourself after makes him have to push back a bright grin. You were just…adorable. Truly. 

God, he was so happy to be back. 

Closing and flicking the lock, Gary pushes off his boots with a tiny grunt, peeling off his jacket over his fatigues before hooking it to the wall. With silent feet, he pads to the kitchen, where a familiar smell makes his nose twitch.

You didn’t sing often, and you baked even less, but the scent in the air was unmistakable. Chocolate chip cookies. A hint of cinnamon. Gary’s eyes brighten as he comes closer to the kitchen entrance—brown butter.

His favorite. 

Those eyes blink at you as he comes to a stop by the wall, hands resting in his pockets as he gazes at you with a wide-eyed love. The man takes a moment, breathing it in before he smiles small-like and leans to the side, resting his shoulder on the frame. 

Gary’s eyes don’t leave you as he watches your form sway back and forth, singing as you bring out another batch of cookies from the oven; taken out and placed on the counter. Tens already laid out to cool—scores that the man himself could, admittingly, eat in about an hour. 

He stays there for who knows how long, smiling like a kid on Christmas, before he finally makes himself known by knocking on the wall twice with his knuckles. Gary raises a teasing brow when your singing is immediately cut off by a loud curse.

Eyes meet him, and just like his own action from before, you sag when you notice who it is, tension bleeding to love.

“Gary!” He chuckles, moving forward as you barrel into him—laughing loudly and squealing. “You’re back early! I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” 

The Sergeant hums, kissing all over your face until you’re burning up like you were sitting in front of a fire. Finally, he meets your mouth, arms picking you up from around your hips and pulling you up as he stays lip-locked with you. Fingers going through his hair, you return it with a giggle as he places you on the counter. 

Gary leaves for only a moment to put another batch of cookies in, before coming back over and slotting himself in between your legs, arms around your waist and head going to push under your chin. You gently card your hands through his hair, burying your face into it and whispering out, “I can’t believe you let me keep singing like that—how long were you there?”

The man chuckles under you, squeezing your body tighter and kissing the flesh above your clothes absentmindedly. You can feel his smirk as plain as day as he blinks, his lashes fluttering.

“You’re a troublemaker, Sanderson,” you mutter into his hair, Gary sighing like a pleased cat. “But I’m glad you’re back home to me…Tired?” 

He shrugs slowly, grunting as if unable to focus above the all-encompassing being that was you. If the Sergeant had a heaven destined for him after all of what he’d done, the scene in this kitchen would be the very definition of it—down to the cracks in the tile and how you kissed his head. The warmth in the air. 

He pulls back suddenly, your music still playing, and drags you with him, placing your feet down carefully before he sends you a sly look with a raised brow.

“Gary?” You ask, confused but grinning as he moves to put a hand around your waist and set your own on his shoulders. 

He tilts his head at you and begins taking small steps that you mirror. The man’s eyes are imploring, and they ask one simple thing—dance with me?

It’s infectious, the way he watches as if the world around you didn’t matter. 

How could you ever say no?

And so, in the warmth of the kitchen, cookies wafting on the air and your shared laughter ringing out along the house, you dance on tired feet. It isn’t elegant, but it is beautiful. How you step on his toes, how he nearly trips on the chair leg and you have to hold him up as he laughs like a schoolboy, leaning over you. 

A dance, not of skill, and a song, not of promise, but both of one thing that mattered more than all else. 

Love that seeps out of skin and eyes—that staples the essence of souls together far beyond all that they’ve been given. 

[hunterbunter3000]

OH LORD MAMA TAKE THE WHEEL THISNIS MY LAST ONE.

imagine the boys just got back from a mission and when they enter the base, they found sweetheart cooking their country food for them. The taste is giving ✨SEASONED✨, its giving ✨you want me to marry you✨, its giving ✨that type of food that added 10 years to your life span✨, ITS GIVING ✨YOU DID A VERY GOOD JOB AND IM PROUD OF YOU✨

NOOOO NEVER STOP THESE I SWEAR YOU'RE JUST FINE 😍😍🫂🫂 these give me life you have no idea miss roro💕

(@missroro ROROOO GURL IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER😭😭 PLS FORGIVE ME I WAS SHADOWBANNED AND THEN OTHER ASKS KEPT POURING IN🧎‍♀️this is quite long, so hopefully you will take that as a sacrifice for my tardiness 🙏I hope you're doing well! I miss you LOTS 💓)

BUT UGHHH GOD

And the FACT that I already have a scenario that's kinda like this blows my mind 🤯🤯

When Sweetheart wasn't needed for this certain mission, she said "aight bet. I know yall are gonna be so damn tired and hungry so watch this WORK."

(Idk if you wanted Sweetheart to cook her home food, or cook their country meals, so imma do both 💀)

Her home-cooked food:

When Task Force 141 came back to the base they smelt that SEASONING IMMEDIATELY LIKE--

Gaz: Something just happened.

I know he's the FIRST to book it to the living room, and then he sees the PLETHORA

GRITS, SWEET YAMS, MAC AND CHEESE, CHICKEN, HAM, GREENS AND OX TAILS, CORNBREAD-- ALL THE GOOD SHIT YOU CAN THINK OOOFFF

Gaz squeals (LITERALLY SQUEALS) cause he's been wanting to taste her cooking.

(He's always asked about African-American cooking since he grew up with British cooking. Sweetheart told him the goodness and he's been hooked on it ever since)

Everyone else comes in and sees the table and they're just in shock

Like what the hell- how long did it take you to make all this?? I love you???

It felt so domestic, like coming home to a home cooked meal after getting off work and seeing your wife smile at you saying "welcome home, dear!"

Sweetheart is just beaming at them, saying "I know yall have been through hell, so have a lil' piece of heaven!" (She's so CHEESY) the mother in her comes thru, telling them to take showers and get situated first then come eat.

WHEN I TELL YOU THAT THEY B O O K E D IT TO THE MENS SHOWERS TO GET CLEAN-- GHOST PUSHED ALEX AND SOAP INTO A WALL SO HE CAN GET THERE FIRST (König and Price were already in there LOL they're witches I swear)

They were done so quickly Sweetheart had to check if some of them were actually clean

Sweetheart: Suds?

Soap, flushed: uhm, yeah?

Sweetheart, eyes squinting: Did you wash yo' ass?

Soap:

Soap: Yes...?

Sweetheart: GO GET CLEANED

Soap: BUT FOOD--

Sweetheart: G O

(Alex and Gaz low key laughing at him and Price is disgusted that Soap sometimes doesn't wash his ass)

They all finally sit down and they just enjoy the warm feeling in their chests while looking at the food. Sweetheart turns on some r&b music (is this a black 80s BET movie? MAYBE) and she walks to the edge of the table, eyes are filled with love and pride for her team. "Aight, I'm gonna keep this short and simple cause I know all yall are hungry and tired," she starts. The team sit on every word she says, as they always do. She smiles. "I'm glad you all made it back safely. Successful mission or not, I will always be proud of all of you. I love yall."

She's too good for them, man. Wtf

They all just fell in love with her more AHA

So she sits down and the chatter and clatter begins. They all moaned so much when they ate the food 💀💀

(They all went into a food coma and had the BEST SLEEP EVER)

--

(If she made everyone's food from their culture) (I put my whole ass into this wow)

When SAS and Los Vaqueros trudged through the hallway, they heard a clang and a yelping "Ow! Son of a-"

Price and Ghost look at each other before picking up the pace towards the kitchen. "Sweetheart? Are you -" Price freezes when he sees the kitchen filled with different types of food. " - Okay..."

"Oh fuck-- Hey! Yall are back already! That's wonderful." Sweetheart nervously laughs as she wipes her hands on her messy apron. The others start to come in, not expecting the different dishes on the counters. She squeals, "Nah uh! Don't come in here! Go and get cleaned now, all of you!" They stare at her for a bit until sprinting to the Men's Showers. Shouts and loud bangs from falling tact gear are heard, making Sweetheart chuckle and shake her head. Once the men came back to the kitchen, she was gone and so was the food. "In here!" She yelled. Soap made it first to the dining room and let out a big gasp. On the long, make-shift table sat a multitude of different foods and drinks each man recognized from their home country.

"Oh, mo leannan, this looks barry!" Soap exclaims.

"In English, Mactavish." Ghost mumbles, making Soap kiss his teeth. "This looks wonderful, St.! I'm- how did you--" Sweetheart shushes him, Soap still smiling ear to ear. "Don't ask questions! Just come sit down and get your plate."

They all grab a plate and utensils with rushed steps and big smiles.

- 𓆩♡𓆪 -

Price, Ghost, and Gaz sat at the end, where they all recognize the things to make Bangers and Mash. Shepherd's Pie and Fish and Chips could be found on all their plates with a side of Barm cakes. Their dishes melt in their mouths, dragon breathing at every bite since it was still hot. Ghost had a feeling in his chest that he felt extremely warm and overwhelming. He didn't think she would make something like this for him. "How're yall enjoying it?" She asks behind Price. "Umberweivable!" Gaz spouted out, a disbelief and amazed look on his face. Sweetheart laughs at him, "Hopefully, that meant unbelievable!" Gaz nods quickly with big food-filled cheeks. "Absolutely amazing, Princess." Price says after taking a swig of homemade Ginger Beer. "Haven't had Shepherd's Pie and Ginger Beer in so long. Good run down memory lane." Price smiles with soft and grateful eyes. Sweetheart snorts out a laugh and taps her cheek. Price raises an eyebrow until the embarrassment creeps in. He grabs his napkin and wipes the food that was stuck to his cheek. "I'm glad you like it, Cap! It was so hard finding an easy recipe for that damn beer." Sweetheart grumbles, looking at the kitchen with furrowed eyes and hand on Price's shoulder. He leans into her touch and sighs. "All in all, thank you." He murmurs, lifting her hand and placing a kiss on it. Sweetheart giggles, ignoring the heat coming from her hand. "You're very welcome!" She moves to Ghost, who has been quietly shoveling food in his mouth. "Hey Ghost! Are you--" Sweetheart stopped when he looked up at her. Eyes big with tears running down his flushed, stuffed cheeks. His eyes tick away from her changed face. "What...?" Simon whispers. She gives him a soft smile as one of her hands wipes off his tears. He didn't even notice the tears falling... "You enjoying the food?" She asks softly. Oh, that tone. That tone she uses only for Simon. He shivers, nodding his head slowly and then laying on her hip. She coos, wrapping her hand around his head while giving him head scratches to calm him down. You're alright, Simon. She's saying through her touch. Enjoy yourself.

Soap was practically vibrating in his chair when he saw a pitcher of Scottish Ale next to a big pot of Cullen Skink and an array of Scotch Pies with small Bacon Butties on the side. He did a double take when he saw a dish filled with Stovies and fried cut potatoes. Just how he ate it when he was younger. He lets out a disbelieved laugh as he reaches for it. "St.!" He calls out to her. She comes over with a worried look. "Wassup Suds? Everything okay?" He looks up at her with glassy eyes and a smile, nudging the Stovies. Sweetheart snickers, "I told you I would make it! I remember you tellin' me that your...màthair? Or-- mudder- damn I forgot how to say it-- but ya mom use to make this for you! So I looked up a recipe and may have added some of my extra spice to it." She explains as she whispers and laughs that last part. He can't believe that she remembers that. He told her that when he met her; telling her all the different Scottish cuisines. "I hope it tastes good..." She mumbles to herself. She cares. Soap grabs his spoon and collects some of the dish. She cares so much. Memories going through his mind when he chews it. She cares too much. "It's delicious." Soap whimpers out. Sweetheart smiles as she bends down to hug him. "I'm glad you like it."

Alejandro exclaims loudly when he takes a bite of his abundantly covered Elote. Rudy chuckles at him, taking another big ladel of Pancita and putting it in his bowl. "Hey guys, are you- WOW," Sweetheart yells. "You guys really ate almost everything! The Tamales and Flautas are gone..." Alejandro hums as he swallows. "So is the Ceviche and the Pipián." They both laugh at Sweetheart's surprised face. "Yall were hungry!!"And we still are, mama!" Alejandro snickers, taking more bites of his corn. "Mi flor, how did you make some of these dishes? And by yourself?" Rudy asks. He's so proud of her. He feels like he's back at home. "Oh, I had some help! Kinda-- some of the rookies helped me make the dishes! But then I kicked them out cause they were getting on my nerves." Sweetheart said, making the men laugh. "I knew you were a good cook. You would make a good wife someday, Sweetheart!" Alejandro shouted out as he smiled. Her shy laugh made him feel warm, but he wants his statement to come true.

König wanted to cry. He hasn't seen such a big pan of Tiroler Gröstl in a while. A basket of Kaiser Rolls is next to some Kasnocken and a pot full of Potato Gulasch. He scratches the brown hood he has on. Sweetheart made it for him so he could wear it when he's on base, since his other one was stinking up the joint. He watches Krueger take a big bite of his food and gulp down his drink that tastes like Almdudler. He's also wearing a hood that Sweetheart made for him; light blue fabric and handmade yellow stars scattered around it. It's scrunched up to his nose, his scarred lips still munching on his roll. He seems to be enjoying himself. König hasn't eaten with Krueger ever since they were kids. The impact on Krueger's actions in the past really changed everything for König and the family. But at least they're bonding in silence. "Hey, you two! Enjoying the food?" Sweetheart asks. Sweetheart. "Yes, meine kleine Göttin. It's very tasty." Krueger compliments her. She giggles, but it's cut short when Krueger grabs her arm and kisses her cheek. "Thank you for this wonderful feast, my love." He whispers in her ear with a smirk. Her mind goes blank for a moment, the heat of the kiss still searing on her brown skin. König grips his fork hard, turning his knuckles white. She sputters and then loudly laughs. "Yeah! No- no problem! I uh, König? How you uh, you enjoying the food?" He looks down at his plate, still quite full of food, yet not feeling like eating any of it anymore. König smiles with his eyes. "I am, Schatz. Thank you."

Horangi was enjoying himself to the fullest. Slurping down some Jajangmyeon with korean fried chicken and Kimchi fried rice with an egg. It reminds him so much of his mother's cooking, and when he didn't receive any Valentine's Day gifts so he would eat the noodles on Black Day. He blows on the noodles, the steam fogging up his black sunglasses. He wishes his past choices didn't bring him to this point. To be reminded of what he had, and now it's gone. He drank some of his soda, causing a big burp outta him. "You seem to be enjoying it, Horangi!" But without all his choices, he wouldn't have met her. He chuckles, covering his heavily scarred smile with his hand. Her warm hand snakes around his, gently pulling it down. She wants to see his smile. Her eyes sparkle at seeing his half-uncovered face. He's so pretty... "You like the noodles? M'sorry if I got the sauce wrong, I think I forgot some ingredients--" Horangi shakes his hand up. "No, no! It's perfect. The black bean sauce is amazing. I almost finished the whole pot." He's extremely impressed by her, but the cold feeling in his spine is wanting him to put the mask back on. Sweetheart squeals and claps, "Oh wonderful! I'm so glad you like it! By the way.." She leans down to hug his frozen form. "I hope to see your smile again. It's very pretty." She says. He is not grateful for his past choices, but he is grateful for her.

Alex and Roach enjoy their food in comfortable, happy silence. Alex hasn't had a decent cheeseburger since his leave. He dips a crinkle cut fry in ketchup, while Roach enjoys a big Maine Crab Roll. He's never tasted one before, but he always has, ever since Sweetheart gave him a postcard with the Roll on it, it's been his dream to taste one. "Yo, Alex! How's the burger?" Sweetheart asks, walking up to the both of them. Alex hums with a smile on his face. "You can't go wrong with a cheeseburger unless it's from a dirty bar." Sweetheart laughs, "Amen to that! And you're you doing, Gare Bear? Ya like the roll?" She asks sweetly. Roach can feel his face heat up from the nickname. He puts it down, finally taking breaths from horking it down non-stop, and putting two thumbs up. Her bright smile made both of them feel warm inside.

Graves sighs. His bones and joints hurt so damn bad. That mission with everyone was successful but it always costed some type of labor pain. He went to his dorm, already clean and changed into casual clothes. He could've sworn he heard laughing on the other side of the base... It didn't matter to him. All he wanted to do was to sleep off this pain. He notices a big plate covered in tin foil and a small note plus a coke-a-cola on his door mat. His eyes scan down the hall way with confused brows. Is he being pranked by one of his shadows? He better not be, he doesn't have the patience for it- Oh it's from Sweetheart. Wait- "What?" Graves mumbles, eyeing the messy note. The note reads:

Hey Graves. Congrats on the successful mission

Made you some dinner cause I'm pro proo pri PROU FUCK proud of you. That is the only time I'm gonna say that to you and it's not even in person. Doesn't matter, enjoy the food

Sweetheart ♡ (p.s. you still an asshole and NO I did NOT put laxatives in your food this time)

He huffs out a chuckle with a wobbly smile. So she does care for him. In a-- weird, hateful way. He walks in his dorm with food and drink in hand and opens the tin foil, the smell of barbecue baby back ribs, steamed carrots, buttered rolls and mashed potatoes fill his nostrils. His mouth waters immediately as he sits in his desk chair. He digs in with the utensils that Sweetheart gave him, his mind immediately going to his repeated fantasy about having a family with Sweetheart. Her, serving him a big plate of food with their baby boy on her hip. She kisses Graves's forehead and situates their son in the high chair before she starts to eat as well. A happy smile works on his face, not feeling the tears streaming down his cheeks. A happy family. "It's delicious..."

- 𓆩♡𓆪 -

After Dinner Bonus!

"Hey, no one go ANYWHERE! Yall are helping me clean all this shit up!" Sweetheart points out with a frown. Soap laughs, "Of course, hen! Why wouldn't we?"

"You did a lot for us, Princess. We'll take care of everything now. Go and take a load off." Price says close to her. Very close to her. "Nah, I can help!" Sweetheart pushed. "Your shoulder has been bothering you, hasn't it?" Ghost said, making Sweetheart flinch. "Why you gotta call me out like that, man?" Sweetheart whined. He was right, though. She's been rotating her left shoulder from time to time, playing it off every time one of the boys asked about it.

Alejandro laughs, placing his hand on her hip. His thumb doing small circles on her thin clothing. Rudy and Krueger strolled towards Sweetheart. Rudy wore a soft smile, yet his eyes told a different story. A more mischievous story. Alejandro's voice dropped an octave, making a hot jolt spike through Sweetheart's spine. "Come now, mama. I know just what to do to help you relax."

°.Reblogs are highly appreciated.! Thank you for your support everyone!!

[mysticallystilinski]

Can we get more high stiles content? Also love your work its genuinely makes my day 🫶🫶

faded on the beach

stiles stilinski x fem!reader

content : p n v sexual intercourse, no protection, underage (below 21) intoxication, public sex, slightly experienced stiles stoner

lav speaks: < hi! thank you much for loving my work; you’re too sweet! request as much as you want! more 🍃 stiles content ahead >

masterlist + taglist

-

lying on the blanket, you turned to face stiles as he applied his sunscreen to himself. he began to struggle as his back was the section needing lotion. stiles, baby, do you need help?, you giggled. no — i’m good, he grunted. it was funny to see him struggle at such a simple task.

ignoring his stubbornness, you dug in your bag for your weed. pulling out the blunt, and lighter, you placed both upon the towel. stiles eyes directed to the items on the ground, and slowly moved his eyes from there to yours.

are you thinking what i’m thinking?, he questioned.

you already know it. from then on, you took the blunt in your fingers, and slowly began to rotate it while evenly lighting the end. stiles eyes burned into your body as you burned the fire into the tip. he couldn’t deny it, stiles would fuck you anywhere he would if he could. the swim suit already left an impression on him as soon as you walked out of the house.

hey, y/n, when you’re done with that do you need me to help you with your sunscreen, he smirked. you couldn’t see his demeanor, but practically felt it pulse into you after those words came out of him. “yes stiles, only if you don’t mind”.

the tip was lit, and ready to be smoked. you shifted the weed from your position to your open lips, and took a long rip. it wasn’t your first time getting high, so you knew how much you could handle. stiles, on the other hand, could not really handle his weed.

after taking a few more hits, you handed the wood to stiles. without hesitation, he grabbed it from your fingers and took a puff.

stiles started to cough, all while not being able to handle the sensation in his lungs. god damn’ it, he managed to choke out. you giggled as your breathing started to become staggered. the feeling was a little hazey, but would soon intensify.

do you wanna take another? he offered. you slyly nodded as he passed the blunt back over into your direction. taking another hit, you locked eyes with stiles. an idea popped into your head.

you sat up onto your knees, and motioned for stiles to sit in front of you. stiles gave you a look of confusion before you filled your mouth with smoke and connected your lips together. blowing the smoke into his mouth, he pulled you closer.

stiles inhaled most of the sweet mixture of your lips and the weed, and delved into the kiss. pulling you onto his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck, being careful not to drop the blunt. he pulled away to exhale, almost immediately out of breath.

god — you taste so good y/n

you blushed, stiles could make you feel that way with a snap of his fingers. those fingers have made you feel good so many times. let’s make it once more. you tugged upon stiles hair, interlocking your fingers within it with one hand.

you threw the roach upon the ground and placed the other hand on his back. your fingers traced circles, lines, anything you could think of all while he was thinking of fucking you. stiles mind was filled with thoughts of taking you right there on the beach. so why wouldn’t he?

stiles hand made his way from your back, to the hem of your swim suit bottoms. sti, stop teasing please, you groaned out. your head was already pounding with thoughts and waves of pleasure. you felt stiles long fingers make his way under the lace of the fabric, and quickly find your throbbing clit.

he didn’t hesitate.

the boy began to slowly rub his way through your folds, finding all the perfect spots in all the right places. you couldn’t tell if it was the intoxication, or just his fingers that made it this pleasurable. does it feel good? he slurred. you moaned out in a giggly response, giving a quick answer.

while delving through your folds, stiles took his other hand and brought it upon your chin. look at me baby. his eyes were low, and so were yours. it almost seemed as though they were glowing a passionate red. seeing the expression from your pleasure made stiles smirk. he got horny quickly, a bulge appearing through his swim trunks.

you know, you make me feel so good y/n, stiles groaned as he stuck a finger into you. blissfully aware, this caused your high to heighten. your mind was boggling from the fingers deep inside your pussy, plus the weed making it’s way into your system. please just fuck me already stiles.

stiles thought you looked so cute begging for his cock right then and there. you couldn’t tell from your eyes being closed in pleasure, but stiles was staring at every inch of you. your clothed tits, your beautiful body, your gorgeous face. he loved absolutely everything about you.

sticking another finger in you, stiles began to go faster as you continued begging him to fuck you. please, please, please, you repeatedly whimpered. abruptly, stiles removed both fingers from your soaked heat. tilting your head in confusion, you were about to protest until you saw stiles pumping his cock through his shorts.

baby — can i help you with that?, you pleaded. stiles eyes met yours as he slowly tilted his head back with his mouth open. incoherent moans slipped out of his mouth just before you decided to help him out. you moved closer to him, and pulled the slip of your bottoms off to the side.

aligning yourself with his dick, you slowly lowered down. a gasp came out from both of your mouths. stiles was still inaudible as the high kicked up a notch, and you couldn’t believe the blissful feeling. stiles was making you so slap-happy to the point of no return.

stiles grabbed the sides of your hips with his hands. knuckles white, he bounced you up and down on his cock. it was a mutual feeling of success and attraction. you couldn’t get enough of eachother. your eyes flickered from the back of your head, to make contact with his. to your surprise, he was already staring at you.

mouth open, heavy breathing, stiles was a moaning mess. the way you clenched around his cock made him closer than he ever was before. he was as deep as he could get, trying to fit all of himself inside of you. he swore he could see stars floating around your body – or maybe that was just the drugs.

i’m gonna cum stiles, you whimpered. his eyes pierced almost into your skull as you said those words. igniting a flame inside him, he proceeded to go deeper and faster. not to mention the pleasure on his end was incredible. he felt a wetness quickly approaching his covered cock as you covered your mouth to stifle your moans.

let me hear you princess.

you cried louder and louder. your eyes felt heavy as he practically pounded into you. you felt him release shortly after your orgasm was finished. streams of cum filled inside your pussy. feeling filled to the brim, you got off of stiles in a stupor.

your high slowly faded as you were placed on the blanket by stiles. he covered you up with a clean towel, and proceeded to start to pack up. stopping in his tracks, he asked:

so – do you still need that sunscreen put on?